Sweet For You, Ruthless For Others
Chapter 17: A Dress For Mia.

Chapter 17: A Dress For Mia.

Hermia’s POV

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"Wait. She’ll take the dress."

The voice sliced through the air like a blade — deep, commanding, and absolute. It didn’t ask. It declared.

The boutique, once buzzing with idle chatter and soft laughter, fell into an eerie silence. Even the delicate music filtering through the overhead speakers seemed to dim, as though the sound itself feared to disobey the authority in those words.

I didn’t move. Couldn’t move. My fingers tightened around the dress, the silky fabric crumpling beneath my grip as my heart thundered against my ribs. Every pair of eyes in the room swiveled toward the voice’s source, wide with disbelief and curiosity.

"Who said that?"

"Is it... could it be him?"

"No way. Niklaus Hathaway?"

Niklaus Hathaway.

The name crashed into me like a wave. My head snapped in the direction of the voice, and there he stood — a storm dressed in a black suit. Midnight hair fell in loose waves around his chiseled face, his dark eyes cold and sharp, and his broad shoulders seemed to dwarf the very room. There was an aura around him — dangerous, magnetic, a pull and a warning all at once.

The crowd parted without hesitation, like peasants bowing before their king.

He didn’t just own the space — he commanded it. Each step he took echoed against the marble floor, the sound of his polished shoes a steady, unyielding rhythm.

Rachel and Lola — so smug, so cruel only moments ago — now looked like trapped animals, their confidence stripped away in an instant. Rachel’s lips trembled in a desperate attempt to form words, while Lola’s painted smile faltered, a flicker of fear replacing the wicked glee she’d worn like a crown.

The store attendant, who had been mere inches away from ripping the dress from my hands, stood frozen. Her arm was still outstretched, fingers stiff and unmoving.

I clutched the dress tighter. My mind raced with questions.

Why was Niklaus Hathaway here?

Why was he defending me?

And why did he speak as though his word was law?

"Mr. Hathaway," the attendant finally stammered, her voice meek. "Did you say... you’ll take the dress?"

Niklaus’s gaze flicked to her — sharp, dismissive, lethal.

"I believe I didn’t stutter," he said, his voice smooth but cold enough to bite.

The tension in the boutique grew heavier, thick as smoke. Whispers flared like sparks in a dry forest.

"Isn’t that Niklaus Hathaway?"

"He’s so... intense."

"What’s he doing here?"

"And why is he talking to her?"

Her.

I felt their gazes burning into me, slicing me open with their unspoken accusations. I was nobody — just a girl who had wandered into the wrong boutique at the wrong time, only to be humiliated by Rachel and Lola moments ago.

Now, I was standing next to Niklaus Hathaway.

The murmurs swelled, but he didn’t seem to hear them — or maybe he simply didn’t care.

Then, like a viper striking, Lola’s voice broke through the tension.

"Brother Niklaus!" she chirped, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered across her face. The venom she’d so effortlessly wielded against me was gone, replaced by a shy, simpering girl desperate for his attention. "What are you doing here?"

Brother.

The word echoed in my mind, and my stomach twisted. Lola — the girl who moments ago had taken such pleasure in tearing me down — was his sister?

Niklaus didn’t respond right away. His gaze rested on her for a beat longer than necessary — cold, calculating — before he finally spoke.

"I came to get the dress for Mia," he said simply. "Ignore me."

Ignore me.

As if it were so easy. As if his presence hadn’t just flipped my entire world upside down.

Lola blinked, her face paling. "Of course, Brother Niklaus." Her voice was small now, barely a whisper. She stepped back, casting me a venomous glare the moment his attention drifted from her.

My heart pounded. I didn’t want this. Whatever game Niklaus Hathaway was playing — I wanted no part of it.

"No," I whispered, the word slipping out before I could stop it. "You don’t have to—"

He was already moving.

Before I could finish, Niklaus closed the space between us, his towering frame a breath away from mine. I felt the heat radiating off him, the scent of something dark and expensive clinging to his suit. When he leaned in — too close — his midnight hair brushed against my cheek, and his voice, low and dangerous, whispered:

"I’ll get the dress for you, Mia."

A shiver danced down my spine.

The room seemed to spin, the whispers growing louder.

"What’s he doing for her?"

"Who even is she?"

"She must be a witch."

"I don’t like this at all."

Their words clung to me, heavy and biting. I wanted to disappear, to melt into the floor and escape the unbearable attention.

But Niklaus didn’t seem fazed.

He reached into his coat pocket, pulling out a sleek black card and handing it to the stunned store attendant. "Here," he said, his voice calm — unyielding.

The attendant fumbled, almost dropping the card in her rush to process the payment. The machine beeped its approval seconds later, loud and final.

I swallowed hard. My head spun. None of this made sense.

"Why?" I managed to ask again, my voice hoarse.

Niklaus tilted his head, his lips curling into a faint, dangerous smirk.

"You’ll figure it out, Mia."

The way he said my name sent another shiver down my spine — like he owned it.

The attendant shoved the elegantly wrapped dress into my hands, the box heavier than it should have been. "Here you go, miss," she said with forced politeness. Then, turning to Niklaus, she offered a smile so wide it looked painful. "Thank you for your purchase, Mr. Hathaway."

I stared at the dress, the silky weight of it burning through the box.

This wasn’t just a dress anymore. It was a question mark. A shift in the course of my night — maybe even my life.

Niklaus Hathaway had just altered everything.

And I had no idea why.