The Perfect Heiress

Miss Her Already

Chuck's POV

“Mr. Knight, these are the jewelry pieces ordered by Mrs. Knight. Please take a look.”

In the quiet VIP lounge, the store manager of Sinclair & Co.’s flagship boutique presented the newly arrived jewelry to me.

My mother, Olivia—always a devoted supporter of Vivienne, her future daughter-in-law, and her career—had placed an order worth over twenty million dollars, deliberately selecting designs from the newest collection.

The overhead lighting was bright and precise, making the jewelry on the black velvet tray gleam even more brilliantly. Brooches, headbands, a feathered tiara—all part of Sinclair’s spring-summer high jewelry collection released earlier this year.

“Mr. Knight, this tiara is called ‘Spirit.’ This is my first time seeing it in person since its launch. We don’t usually show it to regular customers.”

Despite the manager's enthusiasm, I barely looked. I wasn’t here for jewelry. I was here on the off chance that I might run into Vivienne.

I missed her. I could admit that to myself. But to anyone else? Absolutely not. Even thinking it made me cringe.

The coffee beside me had gone cold before I finally picked it up, taking a slow sip.

My mind drifted back to an hour ago. I had just wrapped up the monthly financial meeting at Knight Enterprises’ headquarters when my mother called. I assumed it was important—only to find out she wanted me to pick up some jewelry.

“Send an assistant. Why do you insist on bothering me?”

My mother’s furious voice snapped back through the phone, “Did I tell you to just pick something up? Don’t you know your future wife works there?”

The word wife made my chest tighten—for a second. And then I realized who she was referring to.

I lowered my voice. “Vivienne doesn’t work in the store, Ms. Knight.”

But my mother, predictably, ignored me. “Son, take the initiative. Bring her flowers when she gets off work, take her out to dinner, find a quiet, romantic bar—”

“Take her drinking? And then what? Wait for her to get drunk so I can take her to a hotel? Is that what you’re suggesting?” My tone darkened. Across the room, my assistant Ethan shot me the weirdest look.

“What kind of nonsense are you thinking, you bastard? I’m teaching you to be charming, not sleazy!”

“Just do as I say. Stop wasting time.”

And so, here I was. Sitting in a boutique, sipping cold coffee, pretending to be indifferent while secretly hoping Vivienne might appear.

“Mr. Knight, do these pieces meet your satisfaction? If not, we can refine the designs further.”

The store manager’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. She presented a certificate from the Swiss Gem Lab with a professional smile.

“This will do.” Three words. My voice was deep, void of emotion, tinged with cold detachment.

The store manager exhaled in relief. She had probably been wondering why I hadn’t said a single word since entering. Little did she know, my irritation had nothing to do with her—or the jewelry.

It was because Vivienne wasn’t here. And I hated how much I cared about that fact.

“Understood, Mr. Knight. We’ll package everything immediately.”

She smiled warmly, using a special cloth to wipe down the jewelry before carefully placing each piece into velvet-lined boxes.

I glanced at my watch, keeping my gaze down—until my phone vibrated. It was my mother again.

As soon as I picked up, she eagerly asked, “Did you see Vivienne?”

“No.” My eyes flicked to a branded magazine on the coffee table. The cover featured him—Adrian. I sneered. “But I did see her beloved ex-boyfriend. So I suppose the trip wasn’t entirely wasted.”

“Thanks for the brilliant idea, Mother. Now I get to sit here, surrounded by advertisements of her ex-boyfriend. He looks great in photos, by the way. Want me to bring you a copy?” My voice dripped sarcasm.

My mother burst into laughter. “Oh, my dear son, don’t be so petty. It’s just an ex. Don’t be such a boy. Vivienne probably likes you mature.” Then she hang up.

Mature.

A wave of irritation tightened in my chest. My mother’s laughter chipped away at the restraint I had been keeping these past few days.

Ever since Vivienne and I attended that banquet together, people had been talking. Joking about our impending marriage. Whispering that her dramatic breakup wasn’t about love but about proving her loyalty to me. Even my friends urged me to bring her along to our social gatherings.

Bring her? And do what? Pay millions just to ‘book’ her time so she could keep up this fiancé act?

She did send me ten million for me acting my part. But not another word from her in days.

And now, I came to her boutique, only to be met with him. Adrian’s face was everywhere—posters, magazine covers, promotional ads.

Was she really working here, surrounded by this?

I hated how my expression darkened. Hated how something so trivial got under my skin.

Adrian? Who did he think he was? He wasn’t even physically present—just a magazine cover, just an ad—yet somehow, he was still an annoyance.

I swallowed hard and picked up the magazine.

Adrian’s smirking face stared back at me. He wore a tailored white suit, no shirt underneath, his toned chest and abs visible beneath the fabric—a look designed to make women swoon.

I scoffed. Not much to look at. And he needed makeup for that effect?

Vivienne had loved this?

If so, her taste was painfully average.

My gaze shifted to the jewelry Adrian wore—a diamond-studded tie clip, paired with a matching necklace styled like a tie.

“There’s a new tie clip in ruby—it would suit you.” A memory surfaced—Vivienne adjusting my tie, murmuring empty promises.

Four days. Where’s that ruby tie clip she promised me?

I took a slow breath. “Do you have tie clips? In ruby.”

The store manager brightened. “Yes! Our latest men’s collection features rubies—tie clips, cuff links, brooches. Would you like a recommendation?”

Before I could respond, chaos erupted.

A small gray blur dashed across the store—then leaped onto my lap, nearly knocking over a cup of coffee.

I blinked. Then smirked.

Vivienne's little Maltese, Pearl, was now on my lap whimpering, nudging me with its nose.

“Where’s your mom?” I murmured.

Vivienne must be nearby. She never left her dog alone.

The puppy gave an innocent whimper.

“Sneaked out, didn’t you? Naughty.” I curled my knuckle and tapped its tiny forehead.

It immediately bit my wrist—not a real bite, just a playful nibble, its dark, round eyes gleaming. I chuckled. The last time we met, it had been scared of me. Now, it was bold enough to play.

“Mischievous little thing,” I muttered. “Just like your mother.”

Before I could dwell too much on the thought, a sharp gasp came from across the boutique.

“Pearl?!”

There she was.

Vivienne’s voice was breathless, equal parts alarmed and exasperated.

She strode toward us, her wavy short spilling over her shoulders, her sleek work attire tailored to perfection. But despite her polished appearance, she looked a little frantic—probably realizing that her dog had escaped.

Her eyes locked onto me, widening for just a fraction of a second before she quickly masked her surprise. “Chuck?” she said, cool and composed. “What a coincidence.”

I ran my fingers over Pearl’s tiny head, deliberately unbothered. “Not a coincidence. I’m here picking up my mother’s jewelry.”

She knelt down, reaching for the dog, but Pearl stubbornly nestled against me, giving her an indignant little snort.

“Traitor,” she muttered under her breath, glaring at the pup.

I smirked. “Looks like she prefers me.”

Vivienne straightened, smoothing down her blouse. “She’s just curious. You’re an unfamiliar presence.”

“Unfamiliar?” I echoed, tilting my head. “I think we’re past that stage.”