Chapter 39: Pregnant Besties & the Battle of Bloodlines
[Imperial Capital – Grand Atelier of Saint Veloria, Bridal Floor]
If gods ever designed a department store, this was it.
Marble floors glistened like they’d been polished by baby angels on glitter-duty. Chiffon curtains billowed in a breeze that did not physically exist. Mannequins posed like they were about to walk into an opera full of betrayals and extremely tight corsets. Somewhere in the distance, a live harpist casually played a slow romantic melody while sipping boba through a golden straw.
Lucien stood at the entrance like a prophet entering paradise. His eyes widened. His lips parted. He clutched Elise’s hand like a Victorian maiden seeing a chandelier for the first time.
"I feel like I’ve entered a cathedral of fashion," he whispered, reverently. "I might start levitating. I’m not even joking."
"You better not," Elise replied, sweeping through the massive glass doors like she owned the global economy. "Because we have diamonds to try on, tea to spill, and at least three assistants to emotionally confuse into submission."
Lucien’s eyes glittered like gemstones dunked in starlight. "I love that for us."
A poor, unsuspecting sales associate saw them enter—and immediately dropped her clipboard.
The clipboard bounced. The pens scattered. The poor woman gasped like she’d seen royalty.
Because, well. She had.
The Empress. Had. Entered.