Before Sophie could even catch on, Jaxon had already pulled himself together. “What makes you think that?”

    Sophie’s eyes darted away. “Just a hunch, I guess… You know how it is with sisters-after all these years, you pick up on things.”

    Facing Jaxon always made her feel guilty. Not just because of the whole design mess, but because she’d never told him about Rachel being locked up at the Leroix house. And she knew damn well he’d been looking for Rachel.

    Thing was, she didn’t want him to find her. So she’d kept her mouth shut on purpose.

    Jaxon studied her shifty behavior, fighting to keep the chaos inside him under control.

    Was that anonymous contestant really Rachel?

    All this time searching, and not a single trace! Never would’ve thought she’d enter somepetition and make such a ssh.

    “Even more reason to go to the finals then.” His voice was quiet. “I’lle with you.”

    Sophie’s face lit up instantly. She practicallyunched herself into his arms, squeezing him tight. “Thank you, Jaxon… God, you’re amazing.”

    Jaxon rubbed her back gently, but his eyes were already looking past her shoulder, up toward that corner room upstairs.

    His mind drifted back to Donald’s funeral.

    Rachel standing there in all ck, looking pale as death. The way she’d walked away-so final, like she was done with everything.

    That was thest time he’d seen her.

    “Jazon?” Sophie’s voice snapped him back.

    “Yeah?”

    “What’s going through your head?”

    Jaxon looked down at her, managing a soft smile. “Just thinking about the finals.”

    Sophie nestled against his shoulder, eyes closed.

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    56 8

    “As long as you’re there, I’m good.”

    Jaxon didn’t say anything back, just kept stroking her hair.

    Rachel, looks like we’re finally gonna see each other.

    Finals were in three days, downtown at the Grand Theater.

    Rachel was up with the sun.

    No sign of Nics-probably already gone.

    A

    She threw on a simple white dress, left her hair loose over her shoulders.

    Quick wash-up, grabbed her bag, and headed out.

    Downstairs, there was Matt by a ck car, holding some fancy gift box.

    “Morning, Miss Leroix,” Matt said with a smile.

    “Matt?” Rachel blinked. “What are you doing here?”

    “Mr. Rothschild’s got this huge meeting today-can’t make it to the finals with you.” Matt held out the box. “He wanted me to bring you this.”

    Rachel took it and peeked inside. A pale blue dress.

    The bottom had these detailed wave patterns that caught the light just right.

    “Oh, and this.” Matt handed over a smaller box.

    Rachel opened it, curious, then just stared..

    A ring. Her own design-“Ripples.”

    The wave patterns were catching the sunlight, throwing off this soft glow that matched the dress perfectly.

    Rachel’s hands were actually shaking a little as she picked up the ring. There was something engraved inside: “To my muse.”

    “This is…” She looked up at Matt, voice catching,

    Matt grinned. “Mr. Rothschild figured since it’s your design, you should be the first one to wear it.”

    “He also said,” Matt went on, “he hopes it brings you luck.”

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    $7.0%

    Rachel slipped the ring on-perfect fit.

    She stared at those wave patterns, couldn’t help but smile.

    “Matt,” she said quietly, “tell him thanks for me.”

    Matt chuckled. “You can tell him yourself. Oh, and he said don’t stress about it.”

    Rachel went upstairs to change. The pale blue dress hugged her just right, showed off her figure without being over the top.

    Not too fancy-could wear it anywhere, really.

    Simple V-neck that showed off her corbones. Sleeves tapered at the wrists, made her hands look even more delicate. The fabric felt like nothing.

    When she came back down, even Matt did a double-take.

    “Miss Leroix, ready to go?”

    Rachel got in the car, fingers running over the dress fabric.

    It smelled faintly of cedar-exactly like Nics.

    “Matt,” she said suddenly, “got anything to… cover my face with?”

    Matt caught her eye in the rearview mirror, totally getting it.

    “Mr. Rothschild’s got you covered.”

    At the next red light, he reached into the glovepartment and handed her another box.

    Inside was a pale blue silk scarf, same material as the dress.

    The edges had the same intricate wave patterns. Rachel traced them with her fingers, feeling her eyes get

    hot.

    He’d thought of everything.

    “Mr. Rothschild said if you don’t want to show your face yet, you could use this,” Matt’s voice had this amused tone. “He picked it out himself.”

    Rachel wrapped the scarf around her head a couple times, just her eyes showing.

    They pulled into the parking garage. Thought they were early, but the reporters beat them to it.

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    HCl….

    57 2h

    Soon as they saw the fancy car, journalists swarmed like vultures. Camera shes going off everywhere, microphones practically scratching the windows.

    “You a contestant?”

    “Can we get an interview?”

    A

    “What do you think about your chances?”

    Matt’s face darkened. “Miss Leroix, stay in the car. I’ll deal with these guys.”

    Rachel nodded, watching Matt get out. The reporters mobbed him immediately.

    “Who’s in the car?”

    “Come on, just a quick interview?”

    Matt smiled, but his tone was steel. “Sorry, but thedy’s not doing interviews.”

    “Why not? She hiding something?” one reporter pushed?

    “Please focus on the actualpetition. Mydy’s privacy isn’t up for discussion. Thanks.”

    Matt was getting overwhelmed, so Rachel opened her door and stepped out.

    There she was in that pale blue dress, face covered except for her eyes.

    The reporters froze for a second, then came at her like sharks.

    “What’s your contestant number?”

    “Why the face covering? You got something to hide?”

    The questions were brutal. Matt’s expression went ice-cold. “Mydy has sensitive skin-can’t handle direct sunlight. That’s why the scarf.”

    The reporters weren’t buying it, shooting each other looks.

    One of them actually pushed past Matt, shoving a microphone right in Rachel’s face. “How about sharing your design philosophy?”

    Matt threw himself between them, using his arms to block the aggressive crowd. His voice turned deadly serious: “Sorry, but you’re looking at Miss Rothschild-of the New York Rothschild family.”

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