Chapter 8

Back at Moira Studio, Marisol moved to another room and switched on the lights.

There, displayed on a mannequin, was a deep purple men's evening suit embroidered with Baroque-style needlework—a private commission for an elite client.

The client remained shrouded in mystery. Despite the custom order, Marisol had never met them in person.

They'd only sent an agent with precise body measurements, which suggested an exceptionally well-proportioned physique, along with detailed style preferences.

Had it not been for a trusted friend's personal recommendation, Marisol would have hesitated to accept the commission initially. But the offer proved impossible to refuse.

The client paid a one-million-dollar deposit alone—making this her most significant commission to date. It was a breakthrough for her career.

The suit needed only final touches and quality checks before delivery in a few days. Marisol planned to dedicate the coming days exclusively to perfecting every detail.

Hence, she stayed at the studio that night.

…

The next day, Marisol spent hours at the studio, putting finishing touches on the suit and organizing her portfolio from recent years. Time slipped away unnoticed.

Only when Alinta called that evening to insist on dinner did she realize how hungry she was. Even standing up too quickly left her dizzy.

Popping a candy she always carried, Marisol drove to the private restaurant Alinta had booked. But as she parked and prepared to get out, she froze. A familiar car was parked diagonally ahead of hers.

Within moments, she watched Nevaeh and Lucian step out. Before she could process the coincidence, her son Andre tumbled out after them, bouncing excitedly into Nevaeh's arms with unmistakable affection.

The sight lodged like a fishbone in Marisol's throat. Her heart might as well have been crushed under a boulder. Seeing it first-hand was entirely different from hearing about it.

Fighting nausea, she rolled her window down a fraction with trembling fingers. Andre's childish voice immediately flooded the car.

"Nevaeh, why won't you answer me? You're back in the country now, so why can't I live with you? I want to be with you all the time!

"I miss you so much every day!"

Nevaeh patted his head. Her almond-shaped eyes were brimming with warmth. "That day will come, Andy. Be patient."

"Really?" Andre's face lit up.

Nevaeh glanced at Lucian. When he didn't object, she smiled. "Of course."

Just then, a group of strikingly handsome young men approached, calling out to Lucian and Nevaeh.

"Lucian! Nevaeh! We've been waiting forever!"

"Come on! Lucian specially gathered us tonight to celebrate Nevaeh's triumphant return to the homeland! Time to conquer new heights!"

Marisol recognized the men—they were Lucian's childhood friends, all from the same elite circle. Actually, they were Nevaeh's childhood friends too.

They all belonged to the same tight-knit group, having grown up playing together. Lucian's and Nevaeh's families had always been close, and the elders had unofficially betrothed them since childhood. Though the pair never officially dated as adults, everyone assumed they'd eventually end up together.

Given enough time.

But no one anticipated that an outsider would swoop in—how the unattainable Lucian would be claimed by some unknown young woman. That young woman was Marisol.

Back then, Nevaeh had been studying abroad. When she heard about Lucian's whirlwind marriage to Marisol, she didn't return to the country for years.

As for Lucian and Nevaeh's mutual friends? They all despised Marisol. They deemed her unworthy. They were convinced she'd used underhanded tactics to trap Lucian.

How dare someone like her humiliate Nevaeh?

Over the years, they'd made Marisol's life miserable with constant pranks and endless sabotage. Lucian never introduced her to his friends, either.

No matter how hard she tried, she could never break into his inner circle. So, after enough humiliation, she'd given up.

From beginning to end, she remained an outsider. Marisol smiled bitterly as she watched the cheerful reunion from afar. She was struck by the absurdity of it.

Seven years of effort couldn't compete with Nevaeh's mere return. Everything she'd ever longed for, Nevaeh could obtain with a mere gesture.

Even the son she'd carried for ten months adored Nevaeh more. Her marriage was a joke and a spectacular failure.

Marisol remained frozen long after the group entered the private restaurant and disappeared from view. Only when Alinta called again did she realize she was drenched in cold sweat.

"I'm here already. Coming up now."

Marisol replied calmly after steadying her breathing. She exited the car with perfect composure and headed to the third-floor private dining room Alinta had reserved.

The moment she entered, she noticed Alinta's stormy expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Alinta clicked her tongue. "Just our luck—running into those trashy people here! Don't they have anywhere else to go?"

Marisol paused. Upon further questioning, she learned Lucian's group had booked a private room on the same floor. It was directly across from theirs.

She could only sigh in resignation.

Studying her reaction, Alinta tentatively suggested, "Should we... move somewhere else?"

Marisol shook her head. "Why should we?"

Alinta immediately slammed the table, reinvigorated. "Damn right! They're the ones who should be ashamed, not us!"

Once their food arrived, Alinta finally broached the main topic.

"About the divorce—I consulted my professor who specializes in family law. We drafted a customized agreement for your situation.

"It's basically ready. You can file in a few days, and let's start with private negotiation. If mediation fails, we sue."

Marisol blinked, then nodded silently.

Alinta continued, "Also... the holiday season's wrapping up soon. What are your plans?"

Alinta slowed her eating pace at this question. She knew all about Marisol's family situation.

Those bloodsucking parents of hers had nearly sold Marisol out years ago. She only managed to escape after forking out enough money to buy them a villa in Portsbridge. They'd barely been in contact since—effectively estranged.

Now, with the divorce, Marisol certainly couldn't return to that so-called family home.

Seeing Marisol keep her head down while eating, Alinta sighed inwardly before offering, "How about coming to my place for a proper celebration, like we did in college?

"Mom's been nagging me lately about how much she misses you and asking when you'll visit again. Honestly, she treats you more like her real daughter than me..."

Marisol couldn't help but laugh. Warmth flooded her chest. She realized that if everything went smoothly, the divorce proceedings would be finalized before the season ended. That meant she wouldn't have to spend another day at the Muller family residence.

In any case, there likely wouldn't be any complications. Given how openly Lucian adored Nevaeh, he would undoubtedly jump at the chance to divorce if she initiated it.