Chapter 169
Sarah’s POV
Once Elena emerged from the changing room, the store manager finally approached with her staff, their faces painted with guilt as they took the damaged wedding dress.
“We’re so sorry, Miss Elena,” the manager said, her eyes downcast.
“It’s fine,” Elena replied softly.
I could tell exactly what had happened–they’d been caught between two she–wolves and wisely chose
not to interfere.
In the hierarchy of our world, retail staff ranked far below either powerful packmate, and they’d made the
survival choice to stay out of it.
The manager wrung her hands anxiously. “But what about the dress? This piece is exquisitely crafted- even if we air–shipped it back to Milan for repairs today, it would take at least a month to restore. There simply isn’t enough time before the ceremony.”
Her face paled visibly as she continued, “If Alpha Mercer learns about this… he might tear our shop apart
in his rage.
These poor women were caught between the fury of two Alphas–damned if they did, damned if they
didn’t.
Elena’s voice was resigned when she spoke. “Let’s just choose another dress.”
“A–another dress?” the manager stammered, eyes widening.
“The cheapest one you have that fits me will do. I’ll pay for it myself,” Elena said, her shoulders slumping slightly. “And I’ll handle Alpha Mercer personally.”
The staff exchanged relieved glances, gratitude shining in their eyes. “Thank you, Miss Elena. You’re too
kind.”
“Replace it? Absolutely not.” I stepped forward and took the gown from the manager’s hands, carefully examining the torn neckline.
My wolf’s enhanced vision allowed me to see every severed thread, every damaged crystal. “This dress costs a small fortune, and your future mate personally selected it. We’re not replacing it.”
The store manager’s anxiety returned tenfold. I could smell the sharp tang of fear radiating from her. She opened her mouth to protest, but I cut her off with a warm smile.
“I’ll restore it myself,” I said confidently.
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The manager gaped at me. “I–what? Excuse me?”
The disbelief in her voice was almost comical. These exclusive wedding dresses were considered works
of art–not something an ordinary person could repair.
“Ma’am, please don’t joke about this,” she said, her voice strained.
I waved away her concern. “I’m not joking. I’m a designer by trade–tailoring is well within my skill set.” It wasn’t a complete lie. During my years in hiding, I’d developed many skills to support myself and Aría,
fashion design being one of them.
“But…” the manager began, clearly unconvinced.
Elena placed a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. “There’s no need to worry. I trust my friend
completely.
Any issues that arise will be my responsibility, not yours.” She looked directly into the manager’s eyes. “I promise that Alpha Mercer won’t hold you accountable.”
This was so typical of Elena–always protecting others, taking responsibility even when she was the
victim.
My heart warmed at her kindness. She reminded me of myself before my world had been shattered- before Foster’s betrayal had forced me to rebuild myself from ashes.
“It’s decided then,” I announced firmly, pulling a small notepad from my purse. I quickly scribbled down my address and phone number. “Have the dress delivered to this address. Someone will be there to receive it.”
Aria, who had been quietly watching the exchange, finally spoke up. “Mom, you’re incredible! Is there anything you can’t do? You’re literally my goddess!”
I tossed my hair playfully, feeling a rare moment of lightness despite our earlier confrontation with Suzanna. “What can I say? I had to become a jack of all trades to keep up with a daughter like you.”
Elena gave a soft laugh, “come on, let’s get out of here. I know a place with amazing food–we could all use something delicious to calm our nerves.”
Aria’s eyes lit up immediately. “Do they have dessert?”
“The best chocolate lava cake in the city,” Elena promised with a wink.
We left the boutique and headed straight to the cozy little restaurant.
We slid into a booth by the window, and Elena flagged down a server to place our orders.
The moment we set down our menus and leaned back in our seats, my phone buzzed against the table.
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I glanced at the screen. An unknown number.
Normally, I would’ve ignored it and let it go to voicemail–but something about the moment, a strange tug in my gut, made me pick it up.
“Hello? This is Sarah Winters speaking.”
The voice on the other end sent a chill racing down my spine–deep, commanding, with a trace of impatience barely concealed beneath perfect control.
