Chapter 82: The Echoes Of the Past
The elite boutique on the upper tier of the commercial district was a masterclass in suffocating luxury.
Crystal chandeliers hung low from arched ceilings, casting a polished glow over rows of monochromatic silk, heavy velvet, and high-end designer labels.
For a solid hour, April had put herself through a literal nightmare.
She had tried on dozens of gowns—drapes that were too tight, tulle that felt like sandpaper against her skin, and corsets that restricted her breathing entirely.
To her, clothes were what one wore to actually walk around and be comfortable, keep out the cold and not be naked.
There were nice dresses, fancy dresses, contours, and even costume dresses... it was all dresses. But then why the hell does one have to suffer when wearing these dresses?
If not for the auction tonight, she didn’t think she would have ever gotten to even experience wearing all shades of expensive dresses. It was a fuss.
Spending an hour staring at herself in a mirror with dresses that were uncomfortable to walk in was actively draining her patience.
With a heavy, thoroughly irritated click of her tongue, April marched back to the main showroom rack. She pointed a sharp finger at the very first garment she had looked at exactly sixty minutes ago: a sleek, plain, midnight-black satin gown with clean structural lines and zero unnecessary embellishments.
She should’ve just gone with this from the start and not have had to go through all that hassle.
"I am taking this one," April stated flatly. "I just ended up wasting precious time."
Samuel let out a slow, barely audible sigh, bowing his head in polite resignation. He too was exhausted. He didn’t think anything would be more tiring than picking our suits with Mr. Reed but this seemed to take the cake. "Very well, Miss April. If that is your definitive choice, I shall coordinate the sizing with the attendant."
April reached her hand out to grab the hanger from the rack. But just as her fingers were about to close around the metal, another hand—dripping with cheap, gaudy gold rings—abruptly snatched the hanger first.
April paused, her arm hovering in the air. She slowly tilted her head upward, her icy gaze trailing up the manicured sleeve to lock onto the face of the intruder.
"Oh, I am terribly sorry, my lady, I just—"
The words died instantly in the woman’s throat. The hand holding the hanger began to tremble violently as the air inside the luxurious boutique suddenly turned freezing cold.
It was Matilda.
The housekeeper of the Morgan estate stood frozen on the marble floor. Her face, which had been twisted into a submissive, groveling smile meant for an elite individual, instantly contorted into a mask of pure, unadulterated shock. Her eyes bulged behind her heavy makeup as she took in April’s appearance.
April didn’t flinch. She simply stared back with wide, dark, deadpan eyes, her mind registering the sheer absurdity of the universe. What a spectacularly small world, she thought, a dark, venomous spark of amusement igniting deep within her chest.
Matilda’s breath hitched completely. Just weeks ago, April had been a broken, silent charity case—a miserable maid shivering in a drafty attic, taking the brunt of Madam Morgan’s leather whip and Matilda’s own vicious, systemic bullying.
But then a week ago, she changed all of a sudden, looking her in the eye and threatening her about her stashed cash—which Matilda did not find the moment she went back to check. She knew right away April had stolen it because no one else knew where it was. She was prepared to teach her a lesson, but she waited all day for her and she never returned. Even the day after, and the day after, April did not return.
In the past, April had run away a couple of times, but each time, she was brought back by the guards sent out to search for her. She was found in different back alley streets and even, sometimes, she crawled back, hungry and newly lifeless. That’s right, she had no one and nowhere to go to, so it was only natural that she would return this time. But she did not return.
And now, here she was. But the woman standing in front of her wasn’t a deadbeat, nearly lifeless wench, or an impoverished rat. April was standing perfectly straight, her spine rigid, radiating a terrifyingly calm, untouchable aura that belonged exclusively to the city’s upper crest. Her skin was clean, fresh even, and her hair was very healthy—that healthy hair that Matilda hated so much, so she made sure all the maids kept their hair tied up.
Just what had happened?
The shock in Matilda’s chest rapidly mutated into a wave of toxic, vindictive rage. The humiliation of having her secret romance-novel vault empty, her salary docked, and her pride shattered before April vanished from the estate came rushing back like a flood.
"You..." Matilda hissed, her voice dropping into a harsh, venomous whisper as she stepped closer, entirely forgetting where she was. "April? It is you! You filthy, thieving wench... how dare you show your face in a place like this?! Are you here to steal as well?" She looked April up and down. "Look at what you’re wearing. Did you steal that too?"
Samuel’s eyes sharply narrowed from behind April. His hand twitched and he prepared to step forward. But before he could, April casually raised a single hand, signaling him to stand down. She had this entirely under control.
"Matilda," April purred, her voice low, and it certainly lacked a single shred of fear before the woman who had terrorized her for all her ten years in that estate. "Your manners haven’t improved since you got your salary docked. But it’s only been a week, so I guess it’s too soon for you to learn basic manners."
"What?!" Matilda’s eyes bulged in fury.
"Are you still skimming from the grocery budgets, or have you found a larger book to hide your petty thefts in?" April asked, her lips curling into a nice, wicked grin.
Matilda’s face turned an ugly, mottled purple. "Shut your mouth, you worthless thief! Look at you, dressed up in fake skin, pretending to be a lady! Madam Morgan’s guards have been hunting for you since the morning you ran! How you were able to hide, I don’t know, but you never change, I tell you. You go around picking pennies and stealing, have you no shame?"
Her rant began to attract attention from the attendants as well as other high-end ladies who were shopping.
"What’s going on? A thief?"
"What are the security guards doing?"
Matilda seemed to be on her high horse, calling for attention and pointing her fingers at April. She believed that if there were others here to witness it, there was no way April would get away from this. In fact, she would drag April back herself and have the Madam whip her into submission again. And maybe the Madam would be happy and no longer think of docking her pay.
April simply watched her with narrowed eyes. Samuel stood still behind her, waiting to jump in at her orders.
"Matilda? What is taking so long? I told you to find a matching wrap for the—"
A soft voice cut through the toxic tension as the velvet curtains of the VIP fitting room swung open. Liora Morgan stepped into the showroom.
The protagonist. The long-lost biological daughter of the Morgan family.
