CHAPTER TWELVE — WHISPERS AND IMPRESSIONS
404 Words
The afternoon sunlight poured through the boutique windows, gilding everything in a golden calm that felt deceptive.
Over plates of salmon and delicate greens in the boutique’s dining salon, Clara carried the conversation.
“My family’s charity work is the backbone of our legacy,” she said, her smile bright. “The Hamiltons have supported Sterling events for decades.”
Eleanor finally turned her gaze to Chloe. “And you, dear. Tell us about your family.”
Chloe’s voice was calm, steady. “My mother was Italian, from Florence. Strong, graceful, everything I aspire to be. When she passed, her sister — my aunt — raised me. She’s not wealthy, but she gave me everything that mattered. Stability. Home. Love.”
The words rang honest, no embellishment.
Isabella tilted her head. “Florence women are… formidable. I see it in you.”
Clara leaned forward, voice saccharine. “And your father’s side?”
Chloe’s glass of water met the table softly. “My family is my mother’s family. They’ve always been enough.”
A silence fell — heavy, weighted. Eleanor’s eyes softened. Isabella’s expression gave nothing away. Clara smirked faintly into her champagne.
As they returned to the racks for final adjustments, Clara brushed close. “Secrets won’t keep you in Damien’s world. He doesn’t tolerate them.”
Chloe didn’t break stride. “Good thing I haven’t kept any that matter to him.”
Clara blinked, her smile slipping for the briefest second.
By late afternoon, the shopping was complete. Attendants swept gowns into garment bags, bows tied, receipts slipped into envelopes.
“Thank you, ladies,” Isabella said smoothly, her glance sharp, assessing. “That was enlightening.”
Clara kissed her cheek. “Always a pleasure.”
Chloe lingered, offering a polite smile. “Thank you for today.”
Eleanor studied her with those piercing eyes, then nodded once. “We’ll see you at the gala, Miss De Luca.”
“Of course.”
As Chloe slid into her own car, she caught a glimpse of Clara’s vehicle pulling away ahead — crimson silk visible through the garment bag on her lap.
Chloe’s fingers brushed the smooth black fabric hidden in her own bag. Her lips curved faintly.
Tonight, Clara might believe she had Damien to herself.
But Chloe had other plans.
Chloe’s polite smile never wavered, even as Clara’s words lingered.
Tonight, she would prove just how well she understood their world.
- Writer
