Chapter 7

Sienna chose Kingsmere, an affluent but quiet neighborhood on the south side of Oakhaven, as the location for Yvette’s new studio.

The moment she returned from the hospital, she buried herself in her design sketches.

She and Rowan had already finalized the fabric supply chain and mapped out two distinct collections.

The first would be an ultra-exclusive bespoke line. Every piece would be commissioned by appointment and designed for a single client.

The second would be a limited luxury ready-to-wear collection built around timeless couture silhouettes. It would be offered only to returning customers and a select circle of elite women, with no plans for mass production.

Exclusivity created value.

The last thing wealthy socialites wanted was to see their clothes on everyone else.

Private couture met that need perfectly.

The finest fabrics, hand embroidery by master artisans, and a personalized monogram would ensure that every piece was truly one of a kind.

That kind of exclusivity was exactly what women in their world were willing to pay for.

Her father had always positioned Yvette as a luxury label, but it had never felt quite exclusive enough.

Sienna’s goal was to dress the women at the very top of Oakhaven society.

A knock sounded at the door.

Sienna looked up.

“Sienna, the sample gown is ready.”

Her eyes immediately lit up, and she rose from her chair.

“Let me see it.”

It was her father’s final design.

He’d spent six months revising the sketches before completing them, and Sienna had later added a few details of her own.

She’d sent the design to the dressmakers only a week ago. They had finished it much faster than she’d expected.

Sienna walked around the desk and carefully removed the moonlight-silver silk brocade gown from its garment bag.

White magnolias swept from the asymmetrical neckline across the fitted bodice and down to the waist. The blossoms were elegant and understated, while the clean lines of the branches gave the design structure.

Tiny seed pearls adorned the center of each flower, and an exquisitely embroidered songbird perched among the branches.

The fabric had a soft, restrained sheen that made the entire gown look effortlessly refined. Under the sunlight, it shimmered with a quiet radiance.

It was breathtaking.

A satisfied smile spread across Sienna’s face.

“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined.”

Her assistant nodded enthusiastically.

“Modern luxury brands have nothing on old-world craftsmanship.”

Sienna carefully returned the gown to its garment bag.

Now that the first sample was finished, she needed the right occasion to debut it before the right audience.

Her phone chimed with a new message from Rowan.

‘Take a look at this competition.’

Sienna opened the link.

It was an official announcement.

‘Gilded Thread Competition: Couture Design Awards’

The competition was jointly organized by the Oakhaven Museum of Costume, the Oakhaven Institute of Design, and the Oakhaven Fashion Council.

Another message from Rowan arrived.

‘Look at the judging panel.’

Sienna scrolled down.

One name immediately caught her attention.

Graham Cole.

Her father had mentioned him before.

Professor Cole taught at Oakhaven University’s School of Design. Years ago, he’d been invited by the museum to help research and restore late Victorian royal court garments.

Her father had met him at a fashion symposium in Seabrook.

They’d spoken only briefly, but whenever her father mentioned the encounter, the respect in his voice had been unmistakable.

He had regarded Professor Cole as a lifelong inspiration.

Sienna slowly ran her thumb across the screen.

If she wanted to relaunch Yvette, beautiful designs and impeccable craftsmanship wouldn’t be enough.

The label needed recognition that carried weight.

This competition was exactly the opportunity she needed.

Sienna called Rowan.

He answered after three rings, his deep voice coming through the line.

“Sisi.”

She got straight to the point.

“You want me to enter this competition?”

“Yes. The competition is meant to celebrate heritage craftsmanship and preserve traditional couture techniques, but it has another purpose.”

“What?”

“Professor Cole plans to use it to choose one final protégé before he retires.”

Sienna’s fingers tightened around her phone.

“Seriously?”

Graham Cole was one of the field’s foremost authorities on historic dress and traditional couture. He had devoted his life to researching, preserving, and reinterpreting historic couture.

Becoming his final protégé would give her the chance to learn from a true master.

It would improve her skills as a designer while bringing Yvette greater recognition.

Rowan’s voice softened.

“When have I ever lied to you?”

After a moment, he added, “I’ve met Professor Cole several times. I could arrange an introduction.”

“No.”

Understanding what he was offering, Sienna refused without hesitation.

“I don’t need your help. I want to earn this on my own.”

Rowan chuckled as if he’d expected her answer.

“I had a feeling you’d say that.”

With an artist of Professor Cole’s stature, forcing an introduction might do more harm than good anyway.

If Sienna wanted the world to notice Yvette, she first had to make them notice her.

She took a deep breath, opened the registration page, and entered her information.

The cursor hovered over the submit button for two seconds.

Then she clicked it.

Whether she succeeded or not, she intended to give it everything she had.

---

It was already nine when Sienna returned to Clearwater Bay.

She parked the car and dragged her exhausted body toward the house.

A man was leaning against a car near the entrance, the glowing tip of a cigarette burning between his fingers.

Smoke curled around his sharply defined features, making him appear even more aloof and distant.

At the sound of her footsteps, he dropped the cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe.

Then he turned to look at her.

“Working this late?”

His voice was slightly hoarse from smoking. A loose strand of hair had fallen over his forehead, and he looked as though he’d been waiting for quite some time.

Sienna didn’t ask how long he’d been there.

“What are you doing here?”

Grant walked toward her.

“What? I’m not allowed to come?”

His entitled, condescending tone immediately reignited her anger.

She gave him a cold look.

“Have you signed the agreement?”

Grant frowned in displeasure.

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“What else is there to say?”

Sienna scoffed.

He could’ve spent his time fussing over Claire’s father instead of coming here and taking his temper out on her.

Ignoring him, she took out her keys and walked toward the door.

The moment she opened it, Grant followed her inside as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

He glanced around the flower-filled garden and nodded.

“Not bad.”

Sienna pulled the key from the lock and watched him stroll through the garden as though he belonged there.

“Did you come here for something?”

Grant looked genuinely puzzled.

“As your soon-to-be ex-husband, am I not allowed to see where you’re living?”

Did he really care about her living situation?

He probably wanted to see how miserable she was without him.

Unfortunately for him, he was about to be disappointed.

“Do whatever you want.”

She couldn’t be bothered asking how he’d found her address.

Information like that was effortless for Grant to obtain.

Sienna walked past him, unlocked the front door, and switched on the lights. She hung her keys on a hook by the entrance.

“The cleaner is coming tomorrow, so don’t worry about tracking anything in.”

“Fine.”

Once Sienna entered the living room, Grant lowered his gaze and casually glanced into the entryway closet.

It contained nothing but women’s shoes, all in Sienna’s usual style.

“Tea or coffee?” she asked.

“Water is fine.”

The house had a warm, classic interior. Through the living room’s floor-to-ceiling windows, the garden wall covered in climbing roses was clearly visible.

Without making it obvious, Grant surveyed the entryway, living room, and staircase.

Only after finding no trace of another man did he settle leisurely onto the couch.

His dark eyes shifted toward her as he asked with deceptive casualness, “Did you buy this place?”

Sienna set a glass of water in front of him, irritation written across her face.

“You haven’t signed the agreement, and we haven’t divided the marital assets. How could I afford a place like this?”

Grant didn’t seem bothered by her attitude.

He picked up the glass and studied her over the rim.

“Then who gave it to you? Rowan?”