?Chapter 95:


    Firstly, with Houston and his wife arriving, Ellie would have to confront them if she stayed—an unwee prospect. Secondly, her refusal might provoke Kaiden to leverage her role as a coborative stylist.


    Ellie nearly scoffed. “Kaiden has taught you well.”


    Bruce felt uneasy, sensing potential bacsh.


    Feigning ignorance to her sarcasm, he replied, “Mrs. Thorpe, that’s too kind.”


    In the distance, a familiar Bentley approached.


    It was Houston’s car.


    Ellie’s frown deepened, not expecting the Gordons to arrive so promptly.


    She dreaded meeting them, yet she knew Cecelia might wish to see her son.


    “I’m not fond of this gown’s designer,” Elliemented, ncing briefly at the box before closing it. Her chin remained unlifted, yet her stance radiated dignity and defiance.


    Ellie’s distaste for the designer meant she naturally disliked the gown as well.


    The gown was a limited edition from this year’s new haute couture collection, highly coveted. Yet, in her view, it merited only a dismissive “dislike.”


    Bruce, catching on to her preference, smiled and offered, “Winter’s owner is well-acquainted with Mr. Thorpe. Mrs. Thorpe, please feel free to choose a gown to your liking.”


    Winter was a premier styling studio in Critport, typically serving elite clientele and A-list actresses. Located in a distinctive building downtown, its entrance currently disyed a “closed” sign.


    Bruce escorted Ellie inside, leading her upstairs. They were met by a young man in his twenties, with ash-gray hair and a trendy, avant-garde outfit.


    “This is Sherell Potter,” Bruce introduced him briefly.


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    Ellie, familiar with the fashion industry, immediately recognized Sherell’s stature. A celebrated young designer with numerous des by the age of twenty-five, he was regarded as a rising star in fashion.


    Sherell extended a friendly greeting, bowing gracefully. “Miss, please choose any gown here. What style do you prefer? I’m d to be of service to such a beauty like you.”


    “No, thank you,” Ellie declined, raising her hand. “I’ll find something myself.”


    Preferring not to have others dictate her appearance, Ellie, a stylist herself, trusted in her ability to craft a look that was both satisfying andfortable.


    In under an hour, she had attired herself in an outfit that was bothfortable and stylish.


    Upon his arrival, Kaiden’s gaze found Ellie by the expansive window, her eyes set on the busy street below. She was adorned in a captivating gradient purple gown, her hair elegantly curled and swept to the left, embodying both grace and practicality.


    Her face, lightly touched with makeup, exuded a natural charm and a certain untouchable allure, as if she were meant to be admired from afar.


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