Chapter 195 Pearl Blonde
_Rowena’s POV_
The next afternoon, Alaric took me to the most expensive mall in the city to buy a dress for the homecoming party.
As soon as we walked into the high-end boutique, the store manager came running over to greet us.
Her name was Clara as written on her tag and her eyes sparkled at the sight of Alaric. The moment she saw him, she bowed her head respectfully and treated us like absolute royalty.
"Welcome, Your Majesty," Clara said, her voice full of honor. She then turned to me with a polite smile. "It is a absolute privilege to serve you today, Marchioness Ashthorne. Please, step right this way."
Clara guided us to a private section at the back of the store. She brought out warm tea, set down sweet biscuits, and started showing us beautiful dresses from the newest collections. She was incredibly polite and made sure I felt completely comfortable while browsing.
While I was looking through a long rack of silk dresses, the glass doors at the front of the boutique opened again.
To our complete surprise, Brielle and her mother walked into the store. Her mother was Mrs. Logan, I’d heard of her, she was magnificent. A tall, elegant woman with a refined air about her.
Brielle and her mother looked so much alike, she was like the younger version of Mrs. Logan.
Mrs. Logan noticed us right away and walked over with a subtle, calm smile on her face.
"Alaric, dear. It is so good to see you," she said smoothly. She turned her eyes toward me and offered a polite, gentle nod. "And you must be Marchioness Ashthorne. It is lovely to finally meet you."
"It is nice to meet you too, Mrs. Logan," I replied politely, keeping my tone warm and simple. I was surprised by how nice her mother acted toward me, especially compared to how sneaky Brielle had been acting behind my back.
Brielle, however, immediately stepped up beside Alaric. She pulled a shiny silver dress off the rack, held it against her waist, and looked right at him with a sweet smile.
"Alaric, look at this one," Brielle said, her voice dripping with fake sweetness. "Does this color suit my eyes?"
Alaric didn’t even turn his head fully to look at her. He kept his hands in his pockets and gave a short, flat response.
"Mmh," he hummed softly, sounding completely uninterested.
Brielle’s smile faltered for a second. She turned her head and threw a quick, sharp glare at me, trying to see if I was upset by her flirting. I didn’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
I casually looked away, reached out my hand, and selected a simple, elegant black dress from the rack. Black was sleek, subtle, and perfect for the kind of statement I wanted to make at her party.
Before Brielle could try to talk to him again, Alaric’s phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, looked at the screen, and his face turned serious.
"I have to take this," Alaric said to me, touching my shoulder gently. "I will meet you outside in a bit."
"Okay," I nodded.
He walked out of the boutique to answer the call.
Clara quickly took my black dress and guided me to the fitting room so I could try it on. While I was inside, my own phone buzzed with a text message from Kasper.
I grabbed it and opened the message to read.
*Something important just came up. We will address the Drake situation by next week after the homecoming party tomorrow.*
I frowned at the screen, I immediately pressed his name and called him back to confirm what was happening.
Kasper picked up on the second ring. "Rowena."
"What happened?" I asked, leaning against the fitting room wall. "Why are we pushing the Drake meeting again?"
"Alaric’s aunt had a major medical emergency," Kasper explained over the line, keeping his voice quiet. "Aunt Kristy. The sister of his mother."
"Is she alright?" I asked.
"She had a severe issue with her leg," Kasper said. "A year ago, the doctors had to perform an emergency operation. Her leg was cut off. She was never able to walk on her own again and depended on crutches.”
My eyebrows pulled together in a frown. "That sounds terrible. But what does that mean for us?"
"Aunt Kristy is very stubborn," Kasper sighed through the phone. "She is throwing a massive fit at the hospital. She said she is willing to give anything or do anything for anyone who can actually help her."
"Help her how?" I asked, genuinely confused. "What exactly could anyone do for a cut-off leg? Buy her new crutches? I’m sure she can afford more than a million crutches.”
"That is the problem," Kasper replied. "She flatly refuses to use a wheelchair, and she hates using her crutches. She wants a real solution."
I thought about it for a few seconds. We were living in a modern world with advanced medical technology, high-end engineering, and powerful resources. There were always ways to build better things if someone had the money and the right minds working on it.
"Tell Alaric not to worry about it right now," I told Kasper calmly. "I will look into it once I finish dealing with Brielle’s party tomorrow night."
"Alright. I will let him know. Stay safe," Kasper said, and the call ended.
A minute later, a text message from Alaric popped up on my phone screen.
*I had to rush over to the hospital to be with my aunt Kristy. She has been using old crutches and is completely exhausted. She wants a proper charge and a modern solution. I will see you soon.*
I smiled softly at his text, feeling glad he was keeping me updated while still taking care of his family.
I walked out of the fitting room, and Clara wrapped up the black dress neatly in a luxury bag. I gave her my card to pay for the item but she said Alaric had already paid.
I nodded firmly, thanked her for her help, and carried the shopping bag out of the boutique.
But instead of going home, an idea popped in my head.
I decided to head straight to a high-end hair salon down the street.
I wanted a fresh look for the big homecoming event tomorrow night.
I sat down in the salon chair and looked at my reflection in the wide mirror.
"What are we doing today, Marchioness?" the hair stylist asked politely, combing through my locks.
They recognized me after all. I had been kidnapped and my face had been plastered on every news channel, my socials were growing too. Everyone knew about me now.
I thought about my mother, remembering the bright, beautiful shade of her hair, plus in remembrance of my dead wolf, the color of Kyra’s paws were like pearls.
"I want a complete change," I said smoothly, looking the stylist in the eye through the mirror. "Change my hair color to pearl blonde."