Yvonne smiled, stroking Bullet''s big head.


    Mr. Cooper, still rocking in his chair, put his sses back on and looked her over. "Yes, fits you well."


    A full-length mirror stood opposite her, and in its reflection, she saw a young woman


    in a vintage-style dress, exuding an aura of ssic elegance. In that same mirror,


    she saw the man standing a few feet behind her, his gaze resting on her, his expression unreadable.


    The wicker chair creaked as Mr. Cooper leaned forward, looking from Yvonne to Bet. "You two are a funny couple," he saidzily. "Why did you arrive separately?"


    Yvonne flinched. Her current body waspletely different from her old one, yet she had a feeling that Mr. Cooper, with the wisdom of his years, could see right through her disguise to the soul within. He knew she was the same girl from all those years ago.


    Bet remained silent, his dark, calm eyes fixed on her.


    His stare made her heart race, and she blurted out, "Mr. Cooper, you''ve misunderstood. Mr. Thompson and I are just... acquaintances."


    Taking another bite of pastry, Mr. Cooper peered at Bet, then back at her. "What''s wrong with you, girl? Is your memory worse than an old man''s? Weren''t you two about to get married?"


    His words lodged in her throat. If she hadn''t taken that undercover assignment, if she hadn''t died, she and Bet would be married by now. They would have a happy little family, maybe even a child.


    Silence descended on the small workshop, broken only by the rhythmic creak of the old chair. Bullet sat by her side, looking up at his master with innocent eyes, his tail wagging enthusiastically.


    Finally, Bet spoke, his tone as calm and cool as ever. "Mr. Cooper, I''m here to pick up a dress for my mother."


    His mother was Emma Moore, the beloved actress and national icon. As the wife of the head of the wealthy Thompson family, she rarely acted anymore. However, she Kad recently taken a special role in a period drama and had


    ???


    "Ah, yes, it''s ready. Right there on the table," Mr. Cooper said, gesturing vaguely. Fearing Bet might not find it, he added to Yvonne, "Little on?, the dress you were just working on belongs to your future


    OV


    mother-inw. Why don''t you box it up for your boyfriend?"


    The words ''future mother-inw'' and ''boyfriend'' made Yvonne want to crawl into a hole. Realizing she couldn''t reason with him, she Howered her head and mumbled an agreement. She quickly ced the dress in a box and handed it to Bet.


    He took it, his gaze sweeping over her briefly. "Thank you." His voice was cool, like melting snow.


    Yvonne kept her head down, unable to meet his eyes, but the trembling of her longshes betrayed her agitation.