[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":10},["ShallowReactive",2],{"viewer-data-260322F482CA-354":3},{"id":4,"number":5,"name":6,"content":7,"isLocked":8,"price":9,"hasRead":8},354,6,"Chapter 6: The $700 Dress That Cost Five Hundred","\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The second Gemma hit the delete key, she let out a long, shuddering breath. \"Oh, that feels good! Wait, let me grab a pen and paper. I need to document this monumental occasion.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna couldn't help but chuckle. \"...Is it really that dramatic?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Of course it is,\" Gemma retorted, perfectly serious. \"My best friend has been reborn. How is that not a monumental day?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna curled her lips, giving a soft, noncommittal hum. Reborn might be an overstatement. But it was, at the very least, a fresh start. She had finally forced herself to accept the harsh reality: Cameron Hughes had never loved her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Some time ago, Gemma had added Alexis Morgan on WhatsApp. Alexis’s feed was restricted to a three-day view, but for some reason, she’d opened up her settings one night. That was how Arianna finally saw the truth: during the two years they were supposedly dating, Alexis and Cameron had never stopped being close. Every time Cameron claimed he was \"busy\" or stuck in some \"boys' meeting,\" he was actually with her.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">In every photo, they were draped over each other, arms slung around shoulders, pulling goofy faces at the camera. He was always standing right next to her, letting her stand on her tiptoes to wrap her arms around his neck, often leaning down just to make it easier for her to reach him.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">***\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">That afternoon, Arianna was lounging on the sofa, binging a show, when a thought hit her. She didn't actually have Maxwell King's contact info.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She’d been so distracted when they parted ways that she’d forgotten to ask. How were they supposed to coordinate for the banquet tomorrow? Telepathy? Plus, Maxwell’s assistant was supposed to drop off her dress later that afternoon.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna considered the logistics. Maxwell didn't have her number, but he knew her apartment complex. Should she wait by the security gate? But she didn't know what his assistant looked like.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As her show auto-played into the next episode, she was still stuck in a loop of indecision. Just then, her phone pinged. A single smiley face.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna clicked into the chat and found a completely blank profile. No name, no notes—just a username: \"xy\".\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">The profile picture was of a guy in a white T-shirt from behind, standing by the ocean at dawn. The sun was just peeking over the horizon, a golden semi-circle against a deep, somber blue sea. The color palette was moody and dark, undeniably artistic, yet it carried an overwhelming sense of isolation.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Ever since she started her career, her contact list had exploded, and she made a habit of attaching notes to everyone. But this? Looking at the cryptic name and the lonely silhouette, she couldn't recall ever adding this person.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Had she forgotten to label him, or was it something else?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">She sent back two question marks, cautious.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Sorry, I think I forgot to add a label. Who is this?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Before she could even finish her next thought, a message popped up: \"Are you free right now?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna was baffled, hovering over another question mark, but a second message followed: \"If you're free, I’ll have my assistant bring the dress over.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna stared at the screen, her mind blanking for a full two seconds.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">xy—Maxwell King.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Looking closely at the profile picture, the guy's posture was identical to Maxwell’s. It was him. But when had they added each other? Why had she never noticed?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I'm free. I’ve been home all day,\" she replied. Curiosity getting the better of her, she added, \"When did we add each other on here? I was just trying to figure out how to reach you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell: \"I think it was our junior year.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Really? She had absolutely no recollection of that.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell continued typing, his tone growing strangely certain: \"One afternoon, you mentioned wanting to try that new spicy hotpot place on the back street. It was packed, so you paid for us, and when I transferred the money back, I added you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">***\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Around three in the afternoon, the assistant, Cole Parker, arrived with the clothes. Arianna thanked him, then retreated to her bedroom with two boxes that looked expensive enough to buy a small car.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Inside was a French-style white slip dress with a delicate strand of pearls along the neckline. The fabric felt like a dream—heavy, high-quality, with flattering, wavy pleats that draped down the waist and hips. It was a mermaid cut that clung to her curves, radiating a mix of effortless sophistication and raw, elegant sex appeal. The other box contained a pair of heels with an invisible bow design.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Exquisite.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As she was trying on the heels, a message from Maxwell popped up.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell: \"Does it fit? Do you like it? If not, we can exchange it for something else.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna could practically hear the doting tone in his words. She looked in the mirror; the dress fit like a second skin, as if it had been tailored to her exact measurements—not a fraction too loose or too tight.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"I love it. This one is perfect, thank you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">A black Bentley idled outside her building. Maxwell sat in the back, a faint smile touching his lips. \"You're welcome.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna: \"How much were the dress and shoes? I’ll transfer the money to you.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell knew her too well. He’d expected this. Whether it was money or favors, she kept rigid boundaries with anyone she wasn't close to. Even back when she was with Cameron, if he bought her a gift, she would immediately buy him something of equal or greater value in return. She loved giving to others, but she was terrified of receiving—terrified of the debt, terrified of not being able to pay it back. That’s why she kept everything strictly balanced.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell calmly deployed his pre-planned lie: \"I got them from a friend’s boutique. He gave me a fifty percent discount. It was five hundred, so it was quite cheap. No need to pay me back.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna looked down at the dress. Five hundred? For something that felt like this much quality?\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna: \"Really? Is it that cheap?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell felt a twinge of guilt, terrified she might ask where the store was and go shopping there herself.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He deliberated: \"My friend is a good guy. He actually wanted to give it to me for free, but I insisted on paying. I suspect he gave me a massive discount.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna: \"That must be it. The quality is incredible.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell sighed in relief. He’d nailed it.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna: \"And the shoes? How much for those?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell paused. He hadn’t mentioned the shoes. He scrolled up the chat history. Sure enough, he’d forgotten.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Also from the same friend. Two hundred. I think he’s giving me 'friend prices' on everything.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Arianna: \"That makes sense. These look like they cost a lot more.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Seconds later, a transfer notification hit his phone.\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Cole Parker, sitting perfectly upright in the driver’s seat, turned around. \"Mr. King, when are we heading back to the office?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell was still smiling, his thumb hovering over the screen as he watched the windows of Arianna’s building. \"Wait a while longer. There's no rush.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Cole: \"...\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">He thought to himself: *You're not in a rush, but the executives back at headquarters are probably ready to jump off a ledge.*\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">As Cole mentally complained about his boss, he heard Maxwell ask, \"You delivered the clothes to her door, right?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Yes, sir.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">\"Did you go inside?\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Cole blinked, confused. \"No. I stood at the threshold, handed them to Ms. Stone, and came right back down.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">Maxwell leaned back against the leather seat and said quietly, \"Good.\"\u003C/p>\u003Cp class=\"chapter-paragraph\">*Good?* What was good about that? Cole spent the next twenty minutes trying to analyze it. By the time they reached the office, he finally realized: Maxwell hadn't set foot in her apartment yet—how could he, the assistant, beat his boss to it? That would be entirely out of line.\u003C/p>",false,0,1774272904516]