With that, she walked out, leaving behind the faint trace of expensive fragrance and a child who had just learned that affection could always be replaced with acquisition.
Michael Beaumont arrived not long after. He was a man who had built himself from nothing, climbing through finance with grit, discipline, and an almost painful dedication. In boardrooms, he was respected and feared. At home, he was uncertain, compensating for absence with generosity. He adored his daughter, yet his love often took the form of indulgence rather than presence.
Lillian wasted no time.
“Dad,” she said, standing directly in front of him. “I need the dress tonight. The one from the show, with the silver stars and layered sleeves.”
Michael glanced at his phone and frowned. The boutique he usually relied on had closed early for a private event. In another family, that would have meant waiting until morning. In his, it meant escalation.
“All right,” he said finally. “There is another place I have heard about. A smaller shop. They specialize in custom work.”
Lillian’s eyes lit up with triumph. “Then let’s go now.”