THE BILLIONAIRES WIFE

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"Here!" Olivia withdrew a beautifully crafted card from her leather handbag on the sofa, slipping it into Amelia's hand.

Amelia Collins lowered her gaze slightly, her eyes catching two prominent letters embossed on the card: PC. She raised her head in astonishment, staring at Olivia, momentarily speechless.

"Olivia, are you...are you certain you want me to work here...as a part-timer?"

PC-one of the world's most prestigious fashion brands, famed for its bespoke tailoring, gracing only the elite in society. Each piece from its seasonal collections commanded jaw-dropping prices, yet aristocrats eagerly clamored for them.

Why? Because exclusivity itself was the allure.

For the affluent sons and daughters of noble families, wealth and leisure were their birthrights. Such events, naturally, brought them a measure of excitement.

As the eldest Collins daughter, she had once overheard people speak of this brand when she accompanied her father to the company.

Recalling her father, Amelia's gaze dimmed

Was her father well? Did he still refuse to forgive her? Perhaps he did-years had passed, and no one had come to seek her out, nor had she heard a single word.

She must have broken his heart irreparably.

And now he has everything from her, can he bear it all with peace of mind? One year after she left, she saw that all the newspapers in various sections were full of news that he accepted his father's company. So this is his purpose? For money?

How despicable!

"Of course it's true! After all, I am a well-known designer in the circle. Since the exhibition is held here, they should naturally invite me." Olivia was like a peacock spreading its tail, with a proud and unshakable attitude.

"I'm not doubting you," Amelia replied, "I'm doubting myself. What could I possibly contribute there?"

Amelia placed Emily on the sofa beside her, then sat herself down as well. Emily, holding a bottle with both hands, became absorbed in the pile of small toys around her, entirely oblivious.

Taking her gaze off Emily, Amelia smiled and asked, "Well, what's the story behind this? Go on, spill it."

She was an unremarkable, errand-running journalist, unlikely to ever be assigned a feature story worth anyone's notice. Fame? She had no such ambition

-fame would simply announce her whereabouts to the world. When she left, she bore enough scars; she couldn't risk exposing herself only to be wounded again.

Olivia moved closer, patting Amelia's shoulder to signal her to shift. Olivia sank onto the sofa, stretching her arms luxuriously, and spoke slowly, "It's actually very simple: once the models are on stage, you'll help arrange their outfits. That's all. Then there's the matter of compensation- the three hours are worth...three thousand."

"Th-three thousand?" Amelia's eyes widened in shock. "That simple?"

This seemed too good to be true—a windfall, almost. Yet, something this easy was scarcely believable.

"Of course! A job I find for you would hardly be a random choice. Besides, you can bring my daughter along."

Olivia, a carefree, guileless soul, often referred to Emily as her own daughter, a habit Amelia found endearing rather than offensive. Another person to love her daughter was more than welcome.

"Yes, yes, your daughter," Amelia laughed. "When do we set off?"

Olivia glanced at Emily, noting her bottle still half-full. Standing, she replied,

"Once Emily finishes her bottle, I'll change, and then we'll be off?"

Amelia nodded with a smile, waving her hand. "Go on, then!" Watching Olivia's slender silhouette recede, a bitter smile touched Amelia's lips.

How fortunate she had met Olivia. Without such a dear friend, she might not have endured. Recollections from the past made her eyes glisten. He-he could still rend her heart with pain each time he crossed her mind.

She remembered the year her father had struck her fiercely across the face, commanding her, coldly and before all others, to leave. And so she did

The day after her eighteenth birthday, she returned home empty-handed without telling anyone. She used the little money she had to buy a ticket to a strange city.

She remembered clearly that the journey was long. She had never walked such a long way before. When the ticket seller asked her destination, she replied, "The farthest place from here."

Meeting Olivia was fate's arrangement, an unexpected consequence of her impulsive decision, far beyond her expectations. For a month, she wandered in a strange place and spent the hardest days of her life until she was penniless and was unceremoniously driven out by the hotel owner.

Standing alone on the street, facing curious stares from strangers, she finally understood: without the Collins name, she was nothing.

One night, a group of street thugs sneered at her, pulling her into an alley.

Knowing what was coming, she struggled, screaming for help. One of them, fearful of unwanted attention, struck her on the head, and the world went dark as she fell to the ground.

She felt herself being dragged deeper into the shadows, hands pulling her limp body in every direction before she lost consciousness entirely.

When she awoke, Olivia was by her side. Seeing her stir, Olivia's first words were,

"You're a month pregnant."

Stunned, Amelia stared at her, then at her own disheveled clothes. Olivia reassured her, "Nothing happened, don't worry. I was passing by and decided to intervene."

Olivia, mercifully, never asked where she came from or who the father was.

When Amelia claimed to be an orphan, Olivia believed her and, out of pure kindness, took her in.

Amelia often thought that, even with multiple lifetimes, she could never repay Olivia.

"Mommy, are you crying?" Emily had somehow climbed onto her lap, her small hands gently wiping the tears from Amelia's cheeks as she spoke in her sweet, innocent voice.

Amelia smiled, quickly brushing away the tears, pretending nothing was amiss.

"Mommy wasn't crying. Silly girl, there was just a little fly in Mommy's eye."

Emily, convinced, replied, "Let me blow it away for you, Mommy." Cupping Amelia's face in her tiny hands, she leaned close and blew softly.

Between breaths, she asked, "Did I hurt you?"

When Olivia emerged, fully dressed, she beheld the serene tableau with a pang of sorrow. What kind of man, she wondered, had wounded Amelia so profoundly?

In front of Emily, Amelia displayed unwavering strength, but Olivia had seen her friend break down in secret more than once.

On her notebook, on the white cover, the words Thomas Blake were neatly written in pen.

Every time, she cried in front of this notebook...

..

Emilia Collins deliberately changed Emily into a princess dress, making her look like a little angel.

Emily bounced happily along the sidewalk, and Amelia swiftly took hold of her hand.