CHAPTER 63: TRANSFORMATION

ALEXIA’S POV:

God, I love frustrating Aiden.

The way his face turns red, how his jaw locks up so tight I’m sure he’s seconds away from breaking his own teeth. And when he’s really, really mad—there’s this little crease between his eyebrows that deepens like he’s questioning every single decision that led him to this moment.

Perfection.

I took a slow, sweet sip of my juice, eyeing him from the corner of my eye as he drummed his fingers aggressively against the steering wheel. The man looked like he was this close to throwing me out of the moving car.

"What?" I said, all innocence. "You look like you have something to say."

His death glare could have set the car on fire.

"You," he ground out, voice low and dangerous, "are the most insufferable human being I have ever met."

I gasped dramatically, clutching my chest. "Wow. You wound me. Here I was, thinking we were making such good progress as a couple."

His grip tightened on the wheel. "Keep pushing me, Alexia. See what happens."

Oooh. Threats now?

Too easy.

I tapped my chin thoughtfully. "Hmm. Will what happens involve me getting my own bed? Because if so, I might just keep pushing."

He exhaled sharply, muttering something under his breath, probably debating whether throwing me out was worth the jail time.

Ah, what a beautiful morning.

Listen, I know I’m being a brat. I know. But come on, I deserve something after suffering through this arrangement.

Sleeping on that stupid couch? Suffering through his bossy, control-freak personality every day?

Nope. No way.

If I was going to be stuck in this miserable marriage, I was going to have some fun.

And pushing Aiden Timberlake to the brink of madness? Oh, that was the highlight of my day.

He made my life difficult? I’d return the favor. Every chance I got.

I mean, really, how could I not?

Just look at him. The man was one deep breath away from a full breakdown, and I hadn’t even done anything that bad today.

And we weren’t even at the appointment yet.

God, today was gonna be so much fun.

He drove in silence still fuming until we reached our destination. A fancy building but I wasn’t surprised he was a billionaire after all.

The moment we stepped inside, two women practically rushed toward us, their smiles so perfectly polished they could’ve been part of the decor.

The one who seemed to be in charge greeted Aiden politely, her voice soft and professional, before shifting her attention to me.

Aiden, being the pushy control freak that he is, pressed his hand against the small of my back and gently but firmly nudged me forward, straight into the hands of the other woman.

"Take good care of her. I’ll be back in the evening."

Wait. What?

Evening?

EVENING?!

I whipped around so fast I almost gave myself whiplash. "Hold on—"

Too late.

The traitor was already walking out the door, not even sparing me a glance.

He was ditching me here.

I blinked. I thought I was just fixing my hair.

The woman beside me placed a comforting hand on my arm. "Right this way, Mrs. Timberlake."

Mrs. Timberlake. Ugh.

Still annoyed, I followed her, but the moment we stepped inside the next room, realization hit me like a truck.

This was not just a hair salon.

This was a spa.

A freaking high-end, luxury spa.

I glanced around, taking in the scent of lavender, the soft trickle of water from an indoor fountain, and the sight of plush massage chairs that looked like they belonged in a palace.

Aiden had brought me to a spa.

Oh.

Oh.

I suddenly felt just a tiny bit guilty for being such a pain in the ass this morning.

Just a little.

Because, let’s be honest—what woman in her right mind would complain about getting pampered for an entire day?

Had I known he was bringing me here, I wouldn’t have fought him so hard. I wouldn’t have needed to be dragged out of bed like a rebellious teenager. I wouldn’t have made his life hell this morning.

See? I’m not that bad. I’m just a woman.

And what kind of woman makes things difficult for her husband when he’s giving her a free spa day?

So yeah... maybe I felt a little bad.

But only a little.

From the moment I stepped into that spa, I knew today was going to be heavenly.

The soft music, the warm lighting, and the scent of essential oils instantly made me feel like I had stepped into another world—a world where my problems didn’t exist and where my only duty was to be pampered like a queen.

And let me tell you, I played my role perfectly.

The Massage

The first stop was the massage room, and good Lord, I was not prepared.

The moment the masseuse pressed her hands onto my shoulders, I melted.

"You’re very tense," she murmured as her hands worked their magic.

I wanted to tell her, "Well, I have a controlling husband, a fake marriage, and the entire world watching me—what do you expect?" but all that came out was a contented sigh.

I let myself sink into the warmth of the table, every knot in my body slowly unraveling under her skilled hands. It was absolute bliss.

The Facial & Scrub

After the massage, I was led into another room for my face treatment.

As they applied a luxurious scrub to my skin, I couldn’t help but think, "This is how rich people live, huh?"

They slathered me in a mixture that smelled like honey and roses, exfoliating every dead skin cell off my face. By the time they were done, I felt brand new.

The Manicure & Pedicure

Then came my nails.

They sat me down in a massaging chair, brought out a selection of nail polishes that looked more expensive than my entire existence, and asked me to pick a color.

"Something elegant," I told them, because tonight I was playing a role.

I ended up choosing a soft nude color with a glossy finish—rich wife vibes.

My toenails got the same treatment, and when they were done, my hands and feet looked like they belonged to a woman who drank champagne for breakfast.

Next was the steam bath.

They wrapped me in a towel and led me to a luxurious steam room. The moment the heat enveloped me, I felt all the stress and toxins leaving my body.

I closed my eyes, breathing in the calming aroma of eucalyptus, and let the warmth soothe my soul.

By the time I was done, my skin was glowing.

Then, they moved on to my hair.

At first, I thought they’d just straighten it or curl it.

Nope.

They went all out.

By the time they were done, my hair was in soft, elegant waves that framed my face perfectly.

The hair had complemented my makeup so well, which still had a tone of naturality in it—soft, glowing, and fresh, as if I hadn’t spent hours in a spa being pampered like some royal queen. The waves framed my face perfectly, making me look sophisticated without being over-the-top. My skin glowed under the soft lighting, my eyes poppin’, and my lips—perfectly nude but still enough to make a statement.

I barely recognized myself.

Just when I thought the day couldn’t get any better, they led me to another room.

And there, waiting for me, was a selection of exquisite gowns and shoes.

Sent by my darling husband.

My heart did something weird at that realization, but I ignored it.

The gowns were breath-taking.

Soft, luxurious fabrics that felt like heaven against my skin.

I tried them all on.

Every single one.

Not because I needed to, but because I could.

After what felt like forever, I finally settled on a white gown that was both elegant and dangerously seductive.

The gown, though, the gown was a different beast altogether. It was a work of art in itself. The white fabric clung to my body in all the right places, the slit on the side teasing just enough leg without being too much. The open back? It was both elegant and seductive, perfect for someone like me who needed a little bit of both.

Open back. Thigh slit.

It screamed class with a touch of rebellion—just like me.

For the shoes, I chose silver heels.

They were gorgeous.

They were also high as hell.

God help me.

The Final Look

By the time I was done, it was 6:30 PM.

Where had the time gone?

I stood in front of the full-length mirror, taking in the woman staring back at me.

She was sophisticated. Polished. A vision of wealth and grace.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t see the pauper.

I saw a rich wife.

I glanced again at myself in the full-length mirror, running my fingers along the material. Silk.

It was so soft, like running my hand through clouds. The thought of how much this gown cost—ridiculous amounts—almost made me dizzy, but it felt like a dream. And the shoes? Oh, my God, the shoes. They were beautiful, but the heels were high. High enough to make me feel like I was walking on air... or more like struggling to keep my balance while walking on a tightrope.

But when I paired them with the gown, it was perfection.

I thought I was pretty damn good at being a rich woman now. At least on the outside. My hair, my makeup, the clothes—they all screamed sophistication.

And I couldn’t wait for Aiden to see me.

I smirked. Oh, he was going to be stunned.

I was going to play a little game tonight.

I was going to rein in my inner ghetto and bring out my inner princess—the one who knew protocol, courtesy, and rich-people sophistication.

I was going to make Aiden Timberlake wonder if he even knew me.

But then—

My phone buzzed.

I grabbed it, expecting something meaningless.

Instead, it was a text from Aiden.

"Got caught up with something. Tobias will pick you up. Meet you at the event."

I stared at the message.

Why did that annoy me?

I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t.

But I did.

I felt bitter.

And for the life of me, I didn’t know why.

Just then, my stomach rumbled—loudly.

How the hell did I forget about food?

I had been so caught up in the luxurious pampering and the excitement of my grand transformation that I completely overlooked the most important thing in life—food.

Unacceptable.

A woman who worked at the spa walked in just then, a polite smile on her face.

"Ma’am, your driver has arrived."

Great.

Just great.

I wasn’t about to step into that stupid event on an empty stomach.

I could already imagine it—me standing there in my elegant gown, starving, while all the rich snobs sipped champagne and nibbled on tiny appetizers that were too small to even be considered real food.

Not happening.

I turned to the woman. "Is there anywhere I can get a proper meal before I leave?"

She hesitated, clearly confused by my request.

Because rich, sophisticated women probably didn’t demand food before attending elegant events.

Well, I wasn’t them.

I was Alexia-freaking-Matthew, and I wasn’t about to faint in my designer gown because of hunger.