[EVE]
"You should be more careful," Victor snapped, his tone sharp enough to cut through the tension in the air.
He stood there, radiating anger, his eyes fixed on Sophie with an intensity that made it clear he would not back down.
"It's just a dress, Victor," Sophia chimed in, trying to defuse the situation.
"I'm sorry, Mother, Eve. I didn't mean to," Sophie murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Didn't mean to?" Victor raised an eyebrow, and sneered. "This lobby is enormous, and of all the paths you could take, you chose to intersect with Eve? Are you trying to make a fool of us?"
"I . . . I was just—"
"She was just going to talk to Eve," Sophia interjected, attempting to shield her daughter from the escalating confrontation. "She doesn't mean anything for this to happen."
Victor scoffed. "Yeah, right."
"What's going on here?" Sullivan appeared suddenly, stepping in front of his wife and daughter. "Victor, what do you think you're doing, raising your voice at my family? Who do you think you are?"
"Your president," Victor replied coolly, his tone devoid of any remorse.
Sullivan caught his tongue.
I stifled a laugh if not for the serious situation. I needed Sophia and Sullivan in a good mood for later discussions, not embroiled them in anger like this.
"Don't push your luck," Sullivan growled, his eyes narrowing.
"Maybe you should teach your daughter to be more subtle with her little tricks. Look at what she did to Eve's dress," Victor shot back, his voice firm.
Sullivan's gaze turned icy as he ran his eyes over me. "What? You're a grown man, bullying my daughter over something so trivial? How much is the dress? I'll pay for it."
Sullivan waved for his assistant nearby. "Bring me my check."
"There's no need for that," a calm voice interjected. Sinclair approached our group, and I sighed in relief; perhaps this drama would finally come to an end.
"You probably couldn't afford that dress anyway," Sinclair remarked, directing his comment at Sullivan.
. . . Or not.
"Father, you—" A vein popped in Sullivan's temple, and the tension grew thicker.
Sinclair then turned to Victor. "Go and get Eve another dress."
There was actually another dress? I thought Sinclair had only arranged for two. I'd already resigned myself to scraping together whatever clothes I could find in my wardrobe.
Victor took a deep breath, nodded, and without hesitation, he grabbed my hand and pulled me away. "Let's go, Eve."
As we walked back toward my room, I could still hear Sullivan and Sinclair arguing behind us.
I couldn't help but wonder if it was wise to let Sinclair deal with his son. What if he gets a heart attack from stress?
And where was Stefan during all this? Probably off causing his usual brand of trouble.
I thought he'd make an appearance for the shoot, but it seems he's more interested in rebelling against Sinclair than showing up today.
"Eve, are you okay?" Victor's soft, gentle voice pulled me from my thoughts.
"Yes, I'm fine, Victor. You shouldn't have done that. It's just a dress; no need to fight them over it."
"It's not about the dress, Eve. It's about defending you."
His words struck a chord deep within me. I blinked, momentarily speechless.
Defending me?
The feeling was unfamiliar, almost like a flicker of light breaking through the shadows of a past where no one ever stood up for me.
I had learned to endure the ridicule and neglect on my own, even when I felt discarded and alone on that empty, desolate island.
But now, having someone defend me—genuinely, fiercely—was a warmth I hadn't known I needed. I felt a quiet strength filling the hollow spaces I'd kept guarded for so long.
As I looked up at Victor, a small, grateful smile found its way to my lips, and my voice softened as I said, "Thank you, Victor."
Just as Victor and I were about to continue, Cole stepped into our path, a hint of a small smile already plastered on his face.
Victor's eyes narrowed, his stance shifting as he positioned himself slightly in front of me. "What do you want now, Cole?"
Without missing a beat, Cole replied, "I've already arranged for a new dress for Eve. It'll be here any minute."
Victor's brows knitted tightly together, a flash of irritation crossing his face. "There's no need," he replied shortly.
Cole raised an eyebrow, voice calm yet firm. "Do you already have a spare dress for her?"
Victor's gaze didn't waver. "I've made the call. It'll be delivered within fifteen minutes."
I bit my lip, realizing that there really wasn't a third dress on standby. If we waited, it would probably take more like fifteen, maybe thirty minutes.
It wasn't a big issue for me since I had probably packed enough dresses to make do with the photoshoot. They weren't as elegant or exquisite as the ones Sinclair had got me, but they'd be fine.
Still, Cole wasn't giving us a moment to even consider that option.
"Why wait half an hour when she could wear it in five?"
Victor scoffed, rolling his eyes. "What're you gonna do, clear the streets? Reroute traffic?"
Cole nodded with his poker face. "That's right."
Victor and I exchanged a look, staring at Cole as if he'd completely lost it. Before we could respond, a loud whirring noise filled the air. The three of us turned to the window, watching as a helicopter landed smoothly on the helipad just outside.
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Cole looked back at us, completely nonchalant, and said, "Well, it seems it's here."
I blinked in disbelief, gaping at him. "You . . . you flew the dress here? With a helicopter?"
He lifted an eyebrow, completely unfazed by the absurdity of the situation. "Yes."
"Why?" I asked, bewildered.
Who does that?!
Cole simply shrugged, his expression annoyingly smug. "Why? Because I can."
Victor let out a long-suffering sigh, muttering something about
"ridiculous stunts"
and
"show off"
under his breath.
All I could do was shake my head, half-amused and half-exasperated, as Cole motioned grandly toward the door.