Rachel POV
I stood in front of my closet, staring at the new clothes that had arrived yesterday night —elegant, expensive, carefully curated by a personal shopper Mr Vance had sent.
Tailored trousers, cashmere sweaters, leather bags that cost more than my entire old wardrobe combined.
"You're a Montrel. Start dressing like one. Everywhere."
Damien's words echoed as I pulled on a cream-colored turtleneck and camel trousers. Simple, elegant, expensive. I looked like someone's wife. Someone important.
I looked like I belonged to him.
The thought made my stomach flip—not with fear, but with something far more dangerous.
“Time to face Eli,” I muttered to my reflection, squaring my shoulders.
The woman in the mirror was poised, polished, and utterly foreign to the campus sidewalks waiti
