"Evangeline, there’s a young fan downstairs who’s traveled quite a way to see you."

Evangeline’s eyes lit up. "Oh? Let’s head down and see who it is."

When they reached the lobby, Jemma Riley introduced her. "Evangeline, this is the visitor who was asking for you."

Evangeline offered a warm, professional smile. "Hello."

"Hello... Ms. Montgomery."

The girl’s voice was fragile and sweet, carrying a soft, melodic lilt that tugged at the heart. Who could resist such a delicate soul? Evangeline’s demeanor turned even more welcoming. She signaled for Jemma to bring over a tray of pastries and boba tea, piling the treats in front of the girl with genuine care.

"Thank you, Ms. Montgomery."

The girl offered a shy, sugar-spun smile, but her fingers were busy knotting the hem of her cardigan, her expression clouding with a hesitation that was hard to ignore.

Evangeline gave her an encouraging nod. "Is there something on your mind? You can be honest with me."

"Ms. Montgomery... I came here because I wanted to ask if you could design a dress for me. I’m sick—it’s one of those illnesses that can’t be cured. My doctors told me I don’t have much time left. I just... I want to leave this world looking beautiful. I’m not trying to be a downer, so if this makes you uncomfortable, please, just say no."

The girl looked up, her deer-like eyes shimmering with unshed tears, balancing on the thin line between nervousness and hope.

No wonder she was so frail. Her skin was alabaster-pale, and her voice was as faint as a kitten’s mewl. Looking at someone in the prime of her youth facing such a grim reality, a sharp ache bloomed in Evangeline’s chest.

"Hey, don't cry," she said, leaning in. "It doesn't make me uncomfortable at all. I will design the most beautiful dress you’ve ever seen, something perfectly made for you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely."

"I... I’ve been following your competitions. I love your work, and I... I really like you, too." The girl cast a fleeting glance at Evangeline before ducking her head in embarrassment.

Evangeline felt her heart melt. She was simply too precious.

As they talked, Evangeline learned the girl was seventeen, her name was Sadie Larson, and she poured her heart out about her request. Sadie wanted a green dress—a color that represented burgeoning life. She wanted to believe that in her next life, she would be healthy, resilient, and far from the reach of pain.

Her time was running short. While the weight of that truth pressed on Evangeline, she knew she had to work quickly.

Vitality. It was a firm belief, a healthy glow, the restless energy of youth, and the quiet power of life pushing through the soil. Evangeline closed her eyes, letting the concept settle. She felt the texture of it, tasted the nuance.

Finally, inspiration struck. Her pencil flew across the paper.

She discarded the first few sketches; they were too loud, too bright, lacking the quiet fragility of the girl. Design wasn't just an assembly line of aesthetic tropes; it had to mirror the soul of the wearer. Once that realization clicked, the vision flowed.

A green tulle gown. A voluminous skirt to soften the girl’s skeletal frame, accented with subtle, emerald-hued plum blossoms. She added a few floating petals across the bodice and sheer, puffed sleeves to create an ethereal, dreamlike silhouette.

After an afternoon of fine-tuning, Evangeline finally leaned back with a satisfied smile, stretching her limbs until her joints popped.

When she walked back downstairs, two men were seated on the sofa.

Evangeline chuckled. "Do you two just live at our studio now?"

Marcellus Alexander replied with a touch of arrogance, "I’m here to pick up my wife. He’s the one who insisted on tagging along."

Damian Spencer looked at Remi Crawford, his expression guilty as he pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Oh? I can't head back to the Elysian Estate with you tonight," Evangeline said apologetically. "I’m swamped. It’s too much of a waste of time to commute back and forth."

"Hah! Still feeling smug?"

Marcellus shot a razor-sharp, lethal glare at Damian, who immediately clamped his mouth shut, though his smug smirk lingered.

"Remi," Marcellus noted, "look at the look on this man's face."

Remi turned her gaze to Damian, who instantly adopted an expression of cool, nonchalant indifference.

"He looks fine," Remi remarked. "Handsome and dapper as ever."

Damian felt his ego inflate. He shot Marcellus a victorious brow-raise. Evangeline and Remi exchanged a knowing look. The two of them were absurd—it was a miracle they managed to maintain their reputations in public.

"Alright, enough. Let’s go grab dinner, and then everyone back to their own homes!"

Both men wore expressions of utter devastation.

Evangeline laughed. "One of you is a lead medical researcher, the other is a corporate CEO. Are you both really this bored?"

"What’s more important than spending time with my wife?" Damian said, pulling Remi into his arms and beaming at her.

"Quit the theatrics!" Remi pinched his waist, but her eyes remained soft.

The display was too much. Evangeline sighed, "Let’s go, I’m starving!"

"Alright."

They drove to a boutique restaurant nearby with an elegant, tucked-away vibe. Once the food arrived, Evangeline dove in with gusto, ravenous after the long day. Marcellus watched her with visible heartache.

"Evangeline, you’ll ruin your health if you keep eating like this."

She mumbled through a mouthful of food, "It’s fine. We’ve been like this since we started in this industry. I’m used to it."

The words *I can provide for you* hovered on the tip of Marcellus's tongue, but he swallowed them back. He could never bring himself to stifle her passion. He knew better than anyone—she would never be a parasitic vine clinging to someone else.

Seeing the raw concern in his eyes, Evangeline softened. "Don’t worry. Once we expand the team, I won’t have to push myself this hard."

"...Alright."

The meal ended quickly. The two men lingered, unwilling to leave. Damian’s longing gaze at Remi was almost comedic. Evangeline decided to throw him a bone.

"Marcellus, let’s go home."

His eyes sparked to life instantly. He nodded so fast it was almost frantic. "Right!"

After they left, an awkward silence stretched between Damian and Remi. Damian wanted to keep her there, but he was too nervous to ask. Remi was losing her patience—she wasn't about to be the one to beg to go home with a man!

"Mr. Spencer, I’m heading out."

"Remi!" Damian lunged, grabbing her arm.

Remi turned away, a secret smile blooming on her face. Sometimes you just have to give these men a push.

"Remi, I haven't seen you in days. I’ve... I’ve missed you."

She remained silent, and Damian’s anxiety spiked. "I just want to be around you. I promise, I won't do anything."

*Oh, good heavens!* Remi thought, biting her lip. *What is he even saying?*

Damian’s face was beet red. Remi decided to stop teasing him—at least for tonight. She’d have to train him properly later.

"So, where are we going?"

Damian spoke with a jolt of excitement. "I... I have an apartment nearby. We could... go there."

"Mr. Spencer, who taught you to invite a woman to your apartment on a date?"

"No! That's not what I— I mean..."

His stuttering made Remi laugh outright.

"Let’s go."

"Oh! Right!"

He scurried after her, a look of triumph flickering across his face.