Chapter 50
Aria’s POV
After delegating the work, I’d planned to take the elderly couple to the parking garage, but they’d already walked out to wait by the company’s main entrance.
A Mercedes-Benz Sprinter Executive Lounge was parked right outside.
Definitely major clients.
The moment I settled into the back seat, I noticed the central console was already laden with exquisite desserts. Macarons, strawberry tarts, handmade chocolates, and freshly squeezed juice just taken from the refrigerator.
“Don’t be shy, Miss Smith. See which one you like. If it’s not enough, we’ll have them bring more.” The lady’s smile lines radiated affection.
I quickly waved my hands, feeling something soften inside despite myself. “That’s not necessary. You two are my honored guests. I should be the one looking after you p>
I’d grown up in an orphanage, then spent two years in the Holt household being reminded constantly that I was there to serve, not to be served.
Being cared for by elders like this left me genuinely at a loss.
“Miss Smith, we think very highly of you, dear. You’re like our own daughter p>
Their gaze made me feel self-conscious. I asked softly, trying to redirect, “By the way, I haven’t asked what I should call you… If it’s not convenient to share your identity, that’s fine. I just don’t want to be disrespectful p>
My tone was warm and careful, the kind I’d learned to use when navigating uncomfortable social situations.
The gentleman smiled. “Our surname is Moore. You can call us Mom Moore and Dad Moore p>
The suggested names made me uncomfortable. Calling strangers “Mom” and “Dad” felt far too intimate for people I’d only just been introduced to.
“That seems… a bit unusual, doesn’t it? Would it be alright if I just called you sir and ma’am instead p>
“Oh, whatever makes you comfortable, dear.” Mrs. Moore looked delighted, though I caught a quick glance she exchanged with her husband that I couldn’t quite interpret.
They were clearly thinking something they weren’t saying, but I was too polite to press.
Mr. Moore cleared his throat, his tone turning slightly apologetic.
“Miss Smith, the timing just isn’t quite right yet for us to explain everything. Later on… later we’ll tell you more. Is that alright p>
I nodded immediately, not wanting to make them uncomfortable. “Please don’t worry about it. I’m already grateful you’ve told me your surname p>
The car ride was brief but pleasant, filled with their gentle questions about my work and interests. Soon, we pulled up to a luxury complex I’d only heard about in passing.
The entire building was a members-only establishment, specializing in custom jewelry and gowns for the ultra-wealthy. The kind of place that required appointments months in advance and where a single dress could cost more than most people’s annual salary.
As I followed the elderly couple out of the car, the building’s manager was already approaching with a deferential smile. “Mr. and Mrs. Moore, everything is prepared inside p>
Mrs. Moore took my hand, her palm warm and soft, leading me into the luxurious interior. We passed through a marble foyer into what could only be described as a palace of haute couture.
Two elegantly dressed attendants stood waiting in front of a private dressing room, and behind them were six gowns displayed on individual mannequins.
Each dress was more stunning than the last—intricate beadwork, flowing silk, delicate lace. But my eyes were drawn immediately to the centerpiece.
A breathtaking fishtail gown made of the finest white silk, with shoulders and arms covered in nearly invisible sheer fabric that sparkled with what I initially thought were crystals.
Looking closer, I realized with shock that they were actual diamonds.
It looked exactly like a wedding dress. An incredibly expensive wedding dress.
My heart started beating faster, confusion mixing with a strange anxiety I couldn’t name.
“Mrs. Moore I turned to her, my voice uncertain. “Are you… are you buying these gowns p>