Chapter 112

"Move aside!"

The fitting room door burst open with a crash.

Camera flashes erupted instantly as reporters swarmed in with their equipment. Lily Savigny shrieked and scrambled behind Adrian Roland, only to be captured perfectly by the sharp-eyed paparazzi.

"Mr. Roland! It really is you!"

"Is this lady your new flame?"

"Rumors say you're engaged to Miss Valentine, yet you're having a secret rendezvous in a fitting room. Does she know about this?"

Joy Fairsprene hid behind the crowd, laughing gleefully. "Serves them right! Let these two cheaters taste public humiliation. How does it feel, Stella?"

Stella Valentine watched the besieged pair and nodded faintly. "Quite satisfying."

"You should've retaliated like this sooner! Why should you struggle alone with the kids while they live it up?"

Stella checked her watch. "Joy, I need to head back to the office. I have a client meeting this afternoon."

"Fine, mission accomplished today." Joy tugged her through the crowd. "Wait till you see tomorrow's headlines!"

Once in the car, Stella suddenly remembered. "We forgot to pay for the dress!"

"Oh no, I completely blanked!"

"Should we go back?"

"But you'll be late for work..."

Ding—

Her phone chimed right on cue.

[Dress has been paid for.]

"Mr. Alistair?" Joy raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—he said the dress is taken care of?"

Stella nodded.

"Your Mr. Alistair," Joy sighed, "is like a genie, granting wishes on demand. I’m so jealous."

"You could have one too."

"Stop right there!" Joy waved a hand. "I’m not signing up for forced matrimony."

Stella hesitated.

"Sorry," Joy smacked the steering wheel in frustration. "I really need to filter my mouth..."

A sudden honk made her slam the gas pedal, jerking the car forward.

"Scared me half to death..." Joy clutched her chest. "I’m visiting Harry Vance’s magazine shoot later."

"Aren’t you two just pretending?"

"Commitment to the role, darling."

As the car stopped at the office entrance, Joy winked. "Want me to pick you up tonight?"

"No need," Stella stepped out. "Focus on your plans."

"Maybe Mr. Alistair will come for you?"

Ding—

[The dress suits you perfectly.]

Stella’s lips curved. [Thank you.]

[To celebrate my little star’s victory today, what would you like for dinner?]

[Those models have such perfect figures. I can’t compare.]

[They couldn’t fill out a size L dress.]

Stella instinctively glanced down.

The skirt’s loose hem contrasted sharply with the snug fit across her chest.

[Mr. Alistair, you saw me?]

[Stunning.]

[Were you at the boutique?]

[Yes.]

"Miss, we’re closed to walk-ins today." A familiar voice interrupted her.

"Manager Quentin?"

"You know me?" Quentin Roland looked apologetic. "I didn’t mean to stop you—"

"I’m—"

"The model, right?" His face lit up with realization. "Katrina’s waiting! Hurry inside!"

Without another word, he ushered her into the VIP lounge.

"You’re late," a pixie-cut woman turned—then froze. "Miss Valentine?"

"Miranda?" Stella recognized the stylist.

"What a coincidence!" Miranda lowered her voice. "Have you... met Mr. Alistair yet?"