The Wrong Person

The sheer panic in the assistant's voice shattered Kendall's exhaustion. It sobered her up in a heartbeat. "Give me a second," she instructed, her tone steady despite the lingering fatigue weighing down her bones. "I'll be right down."

Moving with practiced efficiency, she threw on a layer of light makeup to mask the dark circles under her eyes. She slipped into a sharp, trendy professional suit tailored for fluid movement, slid her feet into a pair of sleek heels, and hurried down the wooden stairs to assess the crisis.

However, the moment her eyes swept the polished marble floor of the lobby, her feet froze.

Her practiced professional smile vanished in a fraction of a second. Standing right there in the center of her studio, leaning intimately against each other by the plush velvet couches, were two painfully familiar figures: Declan and Chloe.

Before Kendall could formulate a thought to retreat upstairs and avoid the confrontation, Declan spotted her. His brow furrowed. He jumped up from his relaxed stance and crossed the distance between them with long, aggressive strides. Before she could step back, he grabbed her arm with a punishing grip and dragged her into a secluded corner of the lobby.

He glared down at her, his dark eyes blazing with paranoid fury. "Kendall Hayes, your bravery knows no bounds! You even followed us here!"

Annoyed by his narcissistic assumption that she was stalking him across the city, Kendall shook off his crushing grip. She rubbed her wrist where his fingers had dug in. She was in the middle of a divorce; she possessed zero energy to indulge his delusions. Forcing a polite, distant smile onto her lips, she smoothed out the lapel of her suit.

"Mr. Vance, I'm working now," she replied, her voice calm. "Please watch your actions."

Declan's handsome face twisted into a dark scowl. His gaze swept over her structured attire with blatant condescension. "Did I not give you enough money? Do you need to work here as a server?"

Kendall sneered inwardly at his profound ignorance. Throughout their three-year marriage, she had never once hidden her career as a fashion designer from him. She routinely left her charcoal sketches, fabric swatches, and measuring tapes in plain sight on the kitchen island. He had just never cared enough to even glance at them. It figured he would jump to the conclusion that she was reduced to waiting on wealthy customers.

Maintaining her cold composure, she met his oppressive glare. "We're already divorced, so you don't have to feel embarrassed even if I am working as a server. Aren't you worried Miss Mercer will get the wrong idea acting like this?"

She mused bitterly in her own mind. They were married for three years in strict secrecy. Chloe likely had no idea who she even was, yet here Declan stood, pulling his soon-to-be ex-wife into a hushed, intense conversation right behind his new lover's back.

Hearing her brazen mention of their separation, Declan's demeanor turned stone-cold. His voice dropped to a dangerous register. "What divorce? What nonsense are you spouting?"

It hit Kendall instantly. He hadn't even bothered to go back to the marital home over the last three days to see the signed divorce papers and bank cards she had purposefully laid out on the living room coffee table.

Keeping her cool under his heavy stare, she informed him smoothly, "The divorce settlement will be sent to your office tomorrow. Remember to sign it!"

Before Declan could press the issue or react to her audacity, the rhythmic click of heels echoed across the room. Chloe noticed their interaction and trotted over from the lounge area. Clinging to Declan's arm like a meek, fragile kitten, Chloe looked at Kendall with wide, innocent eyes. She smiled sweetly, flashing a delicate dimple on her cheek.

"What's wrong, Declan?" Chloe asked softly. "You were over here for a while. Do you know her?"

Declan didn't miss a beat. Without a shred of hesitation, he uttered coldly, "I got the wrong person."

The words sliced through Kendall's mind. Three whole years of marriage, and I am not even a stranger to him, she sneered silently at the sheer disrespect. Oblivious to the intense, invisible war waging between the two, Chloe turned her bright smile toward Kendall.

"It looks like we're destined to be your customers," Chloe chirped in a considerate tone. "Will you please show us the wedding gown designed by Celine?"

Kendall's body went rigid. Her mind spun with a chaotic mix of shock and disgust. Is he really in such a rush? We are not even legally divorced yet, and he is already physically preparing to marry Chloe?

The specific gown Chloe was demanding to see was Celine's only recent major design. It was displayed with extreme prominence in the center of K.Moon, encased behind pristine glass. It was famously marked as not for sale. Every single intricate stitch, bead, and fold of that gown had been carefully sewn by Kendall herself. It was a masterpiece crafted specifically for a marital promise that Declan never possessed the intention to realize.

Forcing her solemn, pale face into a mask of strict neutrality, she silently turned. She led the couple toward the breathtaking, heavily guarded dress.

Upon seeing it up close, Chloe's eyes lit up with uncontainable excitement. She stepped toward the display window, letting out a loud gasp of admiration. "I want this dress!"

Declan, standing right beside her with his hands resting in his pockets, nodded expressionlessly. His tone was indulging. "Sure. Try it on."

Witnessing this exchange, the nearby store assistant stepped forward. She gently intervened, trying to maintain a polite, professional tone. "Sir, this dress isn't meant for—"

Kendall abruptly and loudly cut her off before she could expose the studio's strict display rules. Staring directly into Declan's dark eyes, Kendall declared firmly, "We're selling it, but the price is a little on the steep side. It's 1.3 million."

Hearing the astronomical price tag suddenly attached to the garment, Chloe's eager expression faltered. She looked up at Declan, hesitant.