CHAPTER 62: SORRY TO DISAPPOINT YOU

The car door opened, and Lucas stepped out—tall, composed, every inch the commanding presence. His cold gaze swept the crowd like a blade.

"Mr. Hilton!"

Eugene Wright broke into a wide smile, straightening his back out of habit even as age pressed on his frame.

Frank rushed forward eagerly. "Mr. Hilton, hello, I’m Frank Turner."

Lucas ignored the outstretched hand.

Frank’s smile stiffened, but he quickly recovered. "Mr. Hilton, we’ve been waiting for you. Please, this way."

Without a word, Lucas strode inside. Cameras flashed wildly as reporters captured every second.

Somewhere in the crowd, a sharp voice rang out:

"Wait—Isn’t Luna actually Sophia? Aren’t they married? Why did they arrive separately?"

The remark spread like wildfire. The reporters’ eyes lit up—they’d just found their headline.

Sophia hadn’t told Lucas she was coming to City Y.

And she certainly hadn’t expected the man who hated public events to show up here of all places.

Sitting in her seat, she felt her eyelid twitch. A bad omen, maybe.

Lucas was tall enough to spot her instantly. Her seat had been arranged near the front—two chairs over from his.

"Mr. Hilton, please take a seat. The show’s about to begin," Eugene said politely.

Mr. Hilton?

Sophia turned—and froze.

It was him.

"I should be sitting with my wife," Lucas said coolly. "Why is there a space between us? Is there some kind of issue with me—or with my wife?"

Eugene faltered. He already knew Luna’s real identity, but the seating chart had been set weeks ago.

He quickly laughed it off. "You’re absolutely right, Mr. Hilton. Please, sit with Miss Luna."

"She’s not Luna. She’s my wife, Sophia," Lucas said evenly. "Remember that, Old Mr. Wright."

Eugene nodded rapidly. "Of course—Miss Sophia."

Off to the side, Frank frowned. Sophia? The name rang faintly familiar.

Twenty minutes later, the show began.

Lucas leaned slightly toward her, his tone low and deliberate. "Aren’t you going to explain yourself?"

"Explain what, Mr. Hilton? You’re overthinking it."

Sophia didn’t even look at him. He’d shown up without a word—why should she owe him an explanation?

Frank, ever the opportunist, leaned in from the next row. "Mr. Hilton, City Y has many beautiful sights. We’ve prepared the presidential suite for you and your wife to enjoy."

Lucas turned his head slowly, his cold gaze landing on Frank.

Frank immediately shut up.

Beside him, Mary had been staring at Sophia for several minutes. Finally, she whispered, "Frank, doesn’t she look exactly like someone?"

"Who?"

"Aurora."

Mary’s eyes narrowed in realization. The resemblance was uncanny—but she wasn’t sure if she was imagining it.

Frank froze, instinctively glancing over.

Sophia’s gaze met his directly.

That one look chilled him to the bone.

Those eyes—they were the same.

Sophia smirked faintly, then looked away.

She still hadn’t seen Ryan or Frank’s son, Nathan.

As for Frank’s reaction—had he recognized her?

Lucas leaned closer, his breath brushing against her ear, voice low and teasing. "Frank’s your uncle. You’re not even going to say hello?"

Sophia’s expression shifted instantly, amusement fading. "You investigated me."

"You mentioned a few things before," Lucas replied calmly. "The rest, I found on my own. Otherwise, why do you think I’m even here?"

He had investigated her.

Sophia’s guard went up immediately.

"Since you already know," she said coolly, "then you should also understand why I’m here. And Lucas—don’t forget our deal. We agreed not to interfere in each other’s business.

If you ever pull something like this again—digging into my past without consent—then our little partnership ends early.

Because so far, you’ve been getting all the benefits... and I’ve been getting none.

That doesn’t sound like a fair trade, does it?"

Ever since she’d agreed to this so-called partnership, all it had given her was a title — nothing more.

He, on the other hand, had used her without hesitation.

And the worst part? He didn’t feel the slightest bit guilty about it.

Lucas leaned back, voice calm and composed. "Why get so technical? We’re husband and wife. Do we really need to keep score? Anyway, the Wrights invited you to watch the show. Try to focus, hmm?"

Sophia turned away, ignoring him. Across from her sat several familiar faces — some of the most renowned designers in the industry, both domestic and international.

Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the runway. Compared to most, this was no ordinary fashion show — it was an international event.

Models from all over the world strutted across the stage, showcasing each collection.

Sophia studied the designs quietly. Two pieces in particular caught her attention — bold, elegant, perfectly structured. A faint spark of appreciation flickered in her eyes.

Across the way, the designers responsible for those looks whispered to each other, pleased with themselves.

Her piece was the grand finale — the show’s closing masterpiece. And she was genuinely looking forward to it.

Though part of her couldn’t help but wonder:

What will Olivia do when she realizes all her scheming was for nothing?

...

Backstage, hidden in the shadows, Olivia stood tense, a mask covering her face. Her fists clenched as she watched the show anxiously.

She’d snuck out of the office just for this. After catching a rumor that Sophia would be presenting her own design tonight, she’d sworn she would make her look like a fool.

But when the final piece appeared on stage — perfectly intact, glowing under the spotlight — her eyes went wide with disbelief.

No. That’s impossible.

I sabotaged it. I destroyed that piece with my own hands!

Yet there it was — flawless.

Applause thundered through the hall.

Sophia rose gracefully and bowed to the audience. As she straightened, her gaze swept the crowd — and stopped right on Olivia, half-hidden in the corner.

Olivia froze. Their eyes met for a split second before she ducked her head and turned to leave in a panic.

But she didn’t get far.

"Miss, please wait."

Two men in black suits blocked her path. "Security footage shows you tampering with one of the exhibits. We need you to come with us."

Olivia’s heart dropped.

She was sure the cameras hadn’t seen her — she’d checked!

What she didn’t know was that Sophia’s display area had three hidden cameras trained on it from every angle — installed precisely to prevent sabotage.

She’d slapped a tiger’s tail... and now there was no escape.

From across the room, Sophia’s lips curved into a cool, dangerous smile as she approached.

"Wait," she said softly.

"Miss Luna," one of the guards greeted.

"The show went perfectly," Sophia replied. "I fixed the damage myself. Please, let me talk to her."

The men hesitated, glancing toward Eugene Wright. The old man gave a small nod.

"Understood, Miss Luna. We’ll be nearby if you need us."

Sophia nodded once.

When they stepped away, she raised a brow and looked at Olivia. "What’s wrong? Can’t handle being caught?"

"I don’t know what you’re talking about!" Olivia snapped.

Sophia’s tone was calm, cutting. "Every Wright Family design on this stage is protected by exclusive rights. If you don’t admit what you did, I’ll turn this evidence over to them. I heard the Morgan Group just patched its little financial hole — a small scandal like this won’t cost them much, right?"

She held up her phone.

On the screen was clear footage — Olivia, scissors in hand, destroying the design piece.

Olivia’s pupils shrank.

"You..."