Chapter 6: Prank

Wendy tossed and turned well past midnight before finally drifting off.

Old habits won out anyway she was up by 5:30, washing up and changing into clothes Diane had apparently laundered and hung by the door sometime in the night.

She opened the fridge, thinking about starting breakfast, then hesitated, unsure if it would be overstepping. She was still deciding when Diane's door opened.

Diane blinked, surprised to find her already up. "Wendy? You're awake this early? Go back and rest a bit more."

"I'm just used to it," Wendy said, a little sheepish. "What would you like for breakfast? I don't mind making it, if that's all right."

"Oh, I couldn't let you do that." Diane shut the fridge and steered her toward the couch. "Sit, I've got it."

"Let me help, at least," Wendy said, following her back to the kitchen anyway.

Diane gave in, delighted. "All right, together then. My son really did find me a good one."

Wendy flushed and busied herself with the stove, pretending not to have heard that last part.

They were halfway through breakfast prep when Julian emerged, greeting his mother and giving Wendy a small nod in passing.

Wendy checked the clock and murmured to him, "Shouldn't you wake your sister for breakfast?"

"She sleeps late. Don't bother," he said.

After the meal, Julian left for the office, and Wendy prepared to head out as well.

Diane couldn't talk her out of it, settling for a reminder to come back that evening it wouldn't do for a new daughter-in-law to be sleeping elsewhere.

Wendy laughed it off, privately unsure what Nathan's next move might be. Staying close to the Vance family, for now, still felt safer than not.

She and Julian stepped into the elevator. As the doors began to close, a hand shot into the gap, and Wendy hit the open button on reflex.

"You couldn't wait two minutes?" Sophie stood on the other side, indignant until she noticed Julian and cleared her throat instead. "We had plans today, remember?"

Wendy remembered exactly what Sophie had said to her the night before.

Julian's brow creased slightly. "Are you getting in or not?"

Sophie stepped in, eyes fixed on Wendy, still waiting on an answer.

"You were still asleep, I didn't want to wake you," Wendy offered.

Not satisfied with taking the stairs down to argue, Sophie huffed instead. "So you just didn't want to hang out with me, is that it?"

When the doors opened on the garage level, Julian shot his sister a look behave before stepping out ahead of them.

Sophie tugged Wendy toward her car. "Come on. School's starting back up soon, I need to shop, and someone's got to carry the bags."

Wendy understood exactly what this was a test, one she needed the Vance family's goodwill enough to pass. She went along with it.

At the mall, Sophie beelined for the women's section and loaded Wendy down with over twenty outfits before disappearing into a fitting room for most of the morning.

Wendy's arms ached from the weight, but Sophie remained unsatisfied, turning back and forth in the mirror, brow furrowed.

When Sophie's attention was elsewhere, Wendy quietly set the pile down on a nearby chair and flexed some feeling back into her arms.

The ache hadn't even faded before Sophie caught her. Hands on hips, she snapped, "It's just holding some clothes. Can't even manage that?"

Rather than rise to it, Wendy changed tack. "What's the occasion you're shopping for?"

Sophie looked her over Wendy clearly had an eye for this and admitted, reluctantly, "There's a school dance."

"A dance?" Wendy repeated, surprised.

"Yeah." Sophie rolled her eyes, recalling the whole tedious affair. "Honestly I'd rather do volunteer hours than sit through that. Such a headache."

Since she clearly hated the idea, Wendy offered, "If you want, I know a way to get you out of it without burning any bridges at school."

Sophie's eyes lit up then narrowed with suspicion. "Is this some trick to get me in trouble?"

"I'm just telling you the option," Wendy said, unbothered. "What you do with it is up to you."

Curiosity won out. "Fine. Tell me."

"Tell them your brother's getting married and you're attending the wedding. If they don't believe you, tell them to call him and confirm it."

Sophie's first instinct was to snap that Wendy had some nerve, that her brother would never actually marry someone like her and then it hit her that they already had the marriage certificate to prove otherwise. She went quiet.

Annoyed, but also grudgingly aware that skipping the dance with a built-in excuse wasn't nothing, Sophie's opinion of Wendy ticked up a fraction though not enough to let go of wanting a little payback.

She held out a hand. "Give me your phone."

Wendy, confused, handed it over.

Sophie pointed at two outfits in the pile. "Keep these two, ditch the rest. I need to make a call."

She walked off with Wendy's phone before Wendy could respond.

Wendy returned the rejected clothes to the racks and waited, expecting Sophie back with the two she'd kept.

Instead, Sophie ducked around a corner, circled back, and flagged down a sales associate. She pointed toward Wendy. "That woman's been standing there a while. Something about her seems off thought you should know."

The associate thanked her and walked away. Sophie didn't return.

Wendy, still waiting, found herself approached by the sales associate instead.

The woman's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Miss, checkout's that way if you're buying. If it's out of your budget, there's a clearance section on the other side."

"I'm waiting for someone," Wendy explained. "I'll purchase after."

"If you've already decided to buy it, why not just do it now?"

Wendy hesitated. Her phone was gone with Sophie, and she had no cash on her no way to pay even if she wanted to.

The associate's politeness evaporated at the pause. "Can't afford it, then. Wouldn't be the first person who tried to sneak off wearing something she can't pay for."

Wendy's expression cooled. "Could you show a little respect?"

"I'll respect you the second you pay."

The woman's contempt was plain, certain she'd caught someone out.

Wendy laughed, more disbelief than humor, and slid the ring off her finger. "Would this cover it?"

The associate's eyes flickered she recognized the setting, Averton's, instantly but recovered quickly. "A high-end fake can still be a fake."

"Get it appraised and find out," Wendy said evenly. "Unless you're worried I'm right."

Furious, the woman snatched the ring. "Who's worried? Let's appraise it right now, then."

She stormed off, determined to prove the ring was nothing.

Wendy watched her go, unconcerned. Averton's certified every piece they sold no two rings were alike, every purchase logged and traceable. The brand had zero tolerance for resale fraud; anyone caught swapping a client's piece was blacklisted across the entire industry, permanently.