Fiancé Chooses His Mistress

The soft chime of the boutique door echoed behind me as I stepped into the sanctuary of luxury that was Maison Laurent. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over displays of exquisite fabrics, each piece more breathtaking than the last. The familiar scent of expensive leather and subtle perfume wrapped around me like a comfortable embrace.

I glanced at my phone—Reid was running twenty minutes late from his business meeting, but I didn't mind. Shopping at Maison Laurent was never a chore, especially when I had time to truly appreciate the artistry before me.

"Miss Ford, how wonderful to see you again," Miranda Chen approached with her characteristic warm smile, her sleek black hair pulled into a perfect chignon. As the boutique's senior sales associate, Miranda had helped me select pieces for countless events over the years. "Are you looking for anything special today?"

"Just browsing while I wait for Reid," I replied, running my fingers along a silk blouse that probably cost more than most people's monthly salary. "We have dinner reservations at eight."

That's when I saw it.

Hanging alone in the center display, bathed in its own spotlight, was the most stunning dress I'd ever laid eyes on. The deep emerald silk seemed to shimmer with an inner light, and the cut—oh, the cut was absolute perfection. It was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, with hand-sewn beadwork that caught the light like scattered diamonds.

"Miranda," I breathed, unable to look away from the dress. "That piece—is it new?"

Miranda's eyes lit up as she followed my gaze. "Ah, you have exquisite taste, Miss Ford. That's a one-of-a-kind piece from our spring collection. The designer spent six months on the beadwork alone. Each crystal was hand-placed, and the silk was specially dyed to achieve that exact shade of emerald."

I moved closer, mesmerized by the intricate details. The dress wasn't just clothing—it was art. The way the fabric would drape, the way those crystals would catch candlelight at dinner... I could already imagine how it would feel against my skin.

"The neckline is absolutely divine," I murmured, studying the elegant sweep of the design. "And this beadwork—I've never seen anything quite like it. The pattern almost looks like flowing water."

"Exactly what the designer intended," Miranda said proudly. "She wanted to capture the essence of moonlight on a lake. The technique is actually based on nineteenth-century French couture methods, but with a modern twist."

I was completely absorbed in examining the dress when a sharp voice cut through our conversation like a blade.

"Excuse me, but I saw this dress first."

I turned, startled by the aggressive tone. A woman with platinum blonde hair and sharp features stood behind me, her arms crossed and her expression hostile. She was beautiful in a calculated way, but there was something predatory in her green eyes that made me instinctively step back.

"I'm sorry?" I said, genuinely confused. "I was just admiring the craftsmanship."

"I was here earlier looking at it," the