The next day, Evangeline and Remi arrived at SY Plaza.

The same manager from their previous visit was there to greet them. Seeing them walk in, he broke into a frantic jog, his face plastered with a sycophantic grin.

"Mrs. Alexander, what brings you here today?"

"I’m here on behalf of QX to discuss a retail lease. Are there any vacant units available?"

As soon as the words left her lips, Evangeline felt a twinge of irony. Coming in person to talk "business" at a property owned by her husband—wasn’t it painfully obvious she was just pulling rank? She couldn't help but inwardly scoff at her own performative charade.

"Yes! As a matter of fact, a brand just moved out of a prime spot on the eleventh floor this morning."

"Oh? How... convenient."

She couldn't help but mutter to herself. She wouldn't be surprised if the staff had kicked someone out the moment they heard she was coming. The manager, however, was no fool. He caught the flicker of skepticism in her eyes and rushed to clarify.

"Survival of the fittest is just how things work here, ma'am. Please, don't give it a second thought!"

He gestured for them to follow, ushering the two women up to the eleventh floor. "This is the space. Does it meet your expectations?"

Evangeline took a slow look around. It was a high-traffic area, the floor space was generous, and the entire level was dedicated to women’s fashion. The clustering effect would surely drive a significant number of new customers to a fresh brand like hers. She nodded, satisfied. "It's perfect. How much is the annual rent?"

"That..."

The manager looked as if he might pull his own hair out. His higher-ups had given strict instructions: if the CEO’s wife insisted on paying, accept it—but they hadn't specified a price. This couple was truly playing games; it was all just money moving from one of their pockets to the other, yet here he was, sweating bullets.

After a long moment of hesitation, he trembled and held up five fingers.

Remi gasped, her voice echoing through the empty shop. "Five million dollars!"

"Uh—no, no! I meant fifty thousand. Does that work for you?"

The manager’s panicked expression made Evangeline stifle a laugh. It really was hard being a corporate pawn in their world.

"Fine. Fifty thousand it is. Let’s draw up the contract."

"Right away, Mrs. Alexander! I'll have the paperwork delivered to your office by this afternoon, if that's all right?"

Who could have guessed that the "boss lady" would actually insist on paying rent and signing a contract? The ways of the wealthy were truly beyond his comprehension.

"That works."

With the logistics settled, they needed to start renovations immediately. They had to finish before the ad campaign went live; having a surge of interest without a proper storefront would be a disaster. The two women wandered the empty shop, making mental notes and sketching layouts.

Evangeline was standing by the entrance, jotting down ideas in a notebook, when a sharp, shrill voice cut through the air.

"Evangeline Montgomery!"

Evangeline turned around, grimaced, and decided she didn't have the energy for this. She turned back to her work, effectively ignoring her.

"I’m talking to you! Are you deaf?"

Siena Spencer stomped over, planting herself directly in front of them with her hands on her hips, radiating a toxic, entitled energy.

"Listen, little Miss Spencer," Evangeline sighed, her voice flat. "Out of respect for Damian, I’ve been incredibly patient with you. Don’t force me to throw you out."

She made a show of balling her fist, giving a half-hearted warning.

"Ha! You wouldn't dare. Aren't you afraid that if Marcellus found out you were a total shrew, he’d dump you on the spot?"

Evangeline raised a brow. "You want to test that theory?"

Siena flinched at the dangerous, lazy smile on Evangeline’s face, but she held her ground, desperate to save face.

Inside the storage room, Remi caught the sound of the commotion and poked her head out. "Evangeline, what's going on?"

The moment Siena heard that voice, her entire demeanor shifted. She straightened her posture so fast she looked like a toy soldier, pulling her head into her shoulders and shrinking into a tiny, trembling mess. The transition was so fluid it looked like she’d been through boot camp.

Evangeline stared at her, genuinely impressed. "Wow. What’s wrong with you? Scared of Remi?"

Siena didn't dare answer. Her eyes darted toward the storage room, terrified.

Remi stepped out, fixing the "unlucky brat" with a cold stare. "Was that you making all that noise?"

"No... I wasn't," Siena squeaked.

Evangeline couldn't help but chuckle. Was this that "contrast appeal" everyone talked about? "Remi, why is she so terrified of you?"

"Don't! Don't you dare tell her!" Siena barked, though her voice lacked any real bite.

Remi decided to have some fun. She crossed her arms, eyes glinting with amusement. "Call me 'sister-in-law' and tell me you were wrong, and maybe I’ll let you off the hook."

Siena bit her lip, her eyes brimming with frustrated tears. She spent a long moment fighting an internal war, but as Remi’s patience began to fray, a miserable, tiny voice finally emerged.

"Sister-in-law... I was wrong."

"Great. Now get lost. And from here on out, stay well away from Evangeline."

Siena hurried away, moving with such exaggerated caution that it looked like she had forgotten how to coordinate her limbs.

"Haha... I think she’s marching with her left arm and left leg in sync!" Evangeline doubled over, laughing as she watched Siena scramble away. "Remi, seriously, how did you break her?"

"Pfft. A couple of solid punches was all it took."

"Wait, you actually hit her? Did Damian know?"

Remi sheepishly rubbed her nose. "He was standing right there watching. I was just too annoyed to care about my image at the time."

"Haha, I bet Damian’s jaw was on the floor!"

"Hmph, he actually told me I did a good job!"

Evangeline reached out, grabbed Remi’s chin, and shook her head affectionately.

The brief interruption ended, and the two women returned to work, their focus razor-sharp. They finalized the floor plan, mapped out the zones, and combined their ideas into a professional layout.

"Let's go with this. We aren't interior designers, after all. We’ll take these drafts back to the marketing team for the final polish."

"Agreed. Let’s head out."

Everything fell into place with clockwork precision. Seven days later, the store was ready, the television ads hit the airwaves, and a fresh, trendy new brand arrived on the fashion scene. Bolstered by celebrity exposure and a high-end, sophisticated aesthetic, the brand became an instant hit, capturing the hearts of the younger crowd. Both flagship stores were soon packed to the rafters, their inventory selling out faster than they could restock.