Having admirers was one of Melissa’s trophies in life. With these admirers, men easily fell into the trap of thinking that having her on their side was like winning. From Derek’s perspective, that could’ve been true.
But ever since Derek and Melissa had been together, her admirers had slowly disappeared, one by one. No one wanted to get on the Lancasters’ bad side. So, receiving all these luxurious gifts, apparently from an admirer, stirred a mix of emotions in Melissa.
"An admirer?" she whispered, now back in her room, surrounded by opened gift boxes to marvel at. "All of these... who could’ve sent them?"
And most importantly—were they even legitimate?
The thought made her frown. She picked up a bag from MC Brand, spinning it around to double-check its quality. It looked high-end, but she knew that even knock-offs were getting impressively convincing. She knew because Pixy and Megan were using knock-offs.
Raising her brows, she rubbed her chin and nodded to herself. With that, Melissa placed the bag back in the box, determined to get it authenticated.
****
An hour later...
"It’s real?" Melissa asked, staring at the expert across the glass stand in the MC Brand store in Novera. "This bag is an MC Brand?"
The expert smiled politely. "Yes, it is."
"But I don’t see this design on your site or in your store," she said, glancing around the luxurious shop. The only thing that confirmed it was from here was the branding.
"This model is never sold in MC Brand stores, Miss Young," the expert explained. "It’s part of the newest special edition collection and can only be purchased through private bidding or at the fashion show. But it is legitimate. I checked the serial number and the quality—it all checks out."
Melissa’s mouth parted as her eyes fell on the bag between them.
Someone gifted me a piece from MC Brand’s special collection? But don’t special collection triple in price compared to their usual prices?
She knew about private bidding and fashion culture. Some ladies would even have private audiences beforehand, while models would perform the show solely for them. Melissa wasn’t at that level yet—she couldn’t afford such things, nor would she likely be invited to such events.
Yet, someone had gotten this for her.
It’s not Derek—if it were him, he would’ve let the whole world know about it.
"You’re very lucky if this was gifted to you, Miss Young," the expert said with a hint of amusement, pulling her from her daze. "Your fiancé must’ve really cherished you."
"What do you mean by that?"
"This particular design is one of a kind."
"What?"
"Normally, MC Brand sticks to its usual color palette. Using a different color is rare, and it’s meant to distinguish collectors and casual owners. In other words, each design in this color is unique—hence, a special edition. There is only one in this particular design and color in the world."
"I didn’t know that."
The expert smiled. "Now you do, since you own one, Miss Young."
Melissa didn’t answer, but felt her heart flutter with excitement. She gazed at the bag again and whispered, "I’m now an owner of MC’s Special Edition Collection."
Not just that, but a design that only has one in the world.
****
Meanwhile...
Lola pulled over in front of an old home, surrounded by overgrown weeds. Withered leaves scattered across the yard, and vines crawled over the walls of the small, one-story house.
"I can’t believe I’m only here now, even after owning it a year ago," she whispered, a hint of bitterness in her eyes. "But... well."
Lola had gained ownership of her mother’s properties a few years ago. Since she started from nothing, she had to buy them back individually. This was the last one she reclaimed—a year ago—not due to financial issues, but because the previous owner had been difficult.
Even after regaining ownership, she hadn’t touched it, nor allowed anyone else to. She had known this day would come—the day Lawrence would have to buy these properties back—and she wanted to give him reasons to consider purchasing them all.
An owner rarely sells something they’re attached to. It’s like naming a pet; once named, it’s theirs. Only special circumstances would make them let go. Just like this one. If she had taken care of it, it would have given the illusion that she wouldn’t sell it and would have discouraged Lawrence.
"But... I’m home now," she whispered, her eyes softening. "We’re home, Mom."
Now, everyone knew this place was hers. No more hiding, no more tricks. Hate her or not, the world couldn’t change that—unless it crumbled.
Lola smiled. "I protected this place of memories..."
Proof she could protect other things, too. It had taken a lot—pain, mistakes, starting over multiple times—but here she was. After long patience, she had finally reclaimed this place that held her mother’s memories without spending a single extra penny.
With a heart full of gratitude and a rewarding feeling no words could explain, Lola started picking up trash and withered leaves. She couldn’t finish it all today—this place needed much work—but this was the start of many things.
****
Many hours later...
"Shit."
Horror crept across her face as she panted, lying flat on her back in the middle of the lawn, exhausted as if she’d run a marathon. She had meant to start gently, but it escalated quickly—from picking up trash, trimming the overgrowth, to aggressively uprooting everything.
"Damn..." she whispered. "It’s night already?"
She stared at the starry sky in disbelief. Her rewarding smile had faded, replaced by self-reproach. She glanced at the lamppost that had automatically lit the area.
"Well." She drew a deep breath and closed her eyes. "I should go home."
But first, she needed a breather. Lying motionless to recover for minutes, she finally opened her eyes, only to catch movement in her peripheral vision.
Slowly, Lola turned her head and saw, lying beside her in order: Second, Chacha, Atlas, Slater, and then Baby.
"Uh... why is Baby lying here too?"