Chapter 14
Chapter 14
Lian turned slightly. “Sorry, I’m not ready yet—”
He froze.
A tall, blonde-haired woman stood just inside the boutique. She wore a trench coat and sunglasses, despite the warm weather, and carried a small quilted handbag. Her aura was expensive. Elegant. Confident. But familiar.
Not until she removed her glasses.
Lian’s blood went cold.
It was Vivian.
“you……” Lian muttered.
Vivian’s lips curved in amusement as she stared at him.
“Ueah me! Well,” she said softly. “I heard the rumors… but seeing you today? Much more entertaining.”
Lian stepped back slightly, his pulse pounding. “What… what are you doing here?”
Vivian tilted her head. “Shopping. Obviously.”
She walked slowly around the room, her heels tapping in a gentle rhythm. “I heard Cheng was marrying you for real,” she added casually. “Didn’t believe it at first. You were always the reckless one, the wildest bitch. Not exactly bride material.”
Lian's heart raced. Wildest bitch?
He tried not to react — tried to keep his posture still, his voice calm. “You must be mistaking me for someone else.”
Vivian raised a brow. “Mei Wilson. You dated my cousin. Wrecked his car. Slapped me at that dinner event. Trust me, I know who you are.”
Lian stared. Mei had done all of that.
Vivian didn’t know. She didn’t suspect. She was just assuming.
He kept his voice even. “People change.”
Vivian stopped in front of the mirror and stared at both their reflections.
“I suppose money changes things,” she said. “It’s funny. I never thought Cheng would actually go through with this. But I guess even he gets lonely.”
Lian swallowed the sharp thing rising in his chest.
“I’m sure you’re very concerned about his loneliness.”
Vivian gave him a tight smile. “Not really. But I am concerned with dealing with bitches like you, if you think you're though I've dealt with thick skin bitches and you won't be exceptional.”
Lian’s spine stiffened.
She stepped closer, suddenly too close. Her voice dropped.
“I don’t know what it is about you that feels… off,” she murmured. “But I’ll figure it out. And when I do—”
The boutique door opened again. The bell chimed.
Both heads turned.
Cheng.
He stepped inside like he owned the building, wearing a black coat over dark slacks, sunglasses pushed up on his head. He looked tired. Sharp. Dangerous.
“Vivian,” he said, voice flat.
Vivian smiled sweetly. “What a surprise.”
He didn’t return the smile. His eyes shifted to Lian.
“Come here,” he said quietly.
Lian obeyed, every step tense.
Vivian watched like a cat watches birds. “I was just admiring the dress.”
“She’s not here to be admired,” Cheng said without turning to her.
He took Lian gently by the wrist — not hard, not possessive, just enough pressure to say: You’re mine now. Stay with me.
Vivian’s voice was like ice. “You really think marrying her will erase who you are, Cheng?”
“No,” he said calmly. “But it gives me a reason to stay who I am.”
Vivian’s smile cracked.
Cheng looked at her one last time. “Walk away, Vivian. While I still feel generous.”
She hesitated. But she knew better.
With one last glance at Lian, she turned and left, her heels striking the floor like gunshots.
Cheng turned to Lian, watching his face closely.
“You okay?”
Lian nodded, slow. “Yeah.”
He waited for the scolding. The questions. The control.
But instead, Cheng just stared at him. Then said, low and almost too soft to hear:
“She won’t touch you. Not while I’m breathing.”
Lian blinked.
He should’ve felt caged by those words.
Instead… he felt protected.
And confused.
He looked back at the mirror, the gown still untouched.
Cheng stepped closer, eyes flicking down the bodice. “Try it on.”
Lian hesitated.
“Please,” Cheng added.
That one word undid something inside him.
He nodded slowly. Took the gown. And disappeared into the dressing room.
Behind the velvet curtain, his heart was a storm.
Not because of Vivian. Not because of the dress.
But because Cheng had said please.
The velvet curtain swayed behind Lian as he stood alone inside the ornate dressing room.
The gown lay across the seat like it was watching him.
He hesitated before reaching for it, fingers brushing the fine satin. Cool. Silky. Unapologetically feminine.
He slipped out of his clothes, folding them neatly over the bench. His hands trembled slightly as he reached for the zipper at the back of the gown. Every inch he pulled it down, every movement that brought the fabric closer to his body, made the knot in his stomach tighten.
He hadn’t been this bare since he was a teenager — not just in body, but in identity. There was something deeply intimate about wedding dresses. They weren’t costumes. They were declarations.
But the moment it was on… the silence changed.
The gown fit. Too well.
He stared into the full-length mirror.
Mei would’ve smirked, tossed her hair, added diamonds. But Lian… just looked.
Still.
Almost scared.
He looked like someone who didn't belong in this moment, yet couldn't escape it.
He stepped out slowly from behind the curtain.
The boutique had fallen quiet.
Cheng stood a few feet away, his phone now tucked in his coat, his entire focus pinned to Lian.
And when he looked up—really looked up—his expression shifted.
It wasn't lust.
It wasn’t smugness.
It was something else. Something deeper. Something raw.
Cheng moved toward him, steps slow, deliberate. His gaze scanned from Lian’s bare shoulders, down the curve of the dress, and back up again.
He stopped just before him.
“Say something,” Lian whispered.
Cheng didn’t. Not immediately.
Then he exhaled, slowly. “It fits you better than I expected.”
“You chose it?”
“I had them bring three. This one felt… right.”
Lian’s lips parted, but no sound came out.
Cheng’s hand rose, hesitating in the air between them. Then — gently — he adjusted a loose strand of hair behind Lian’s ear. His knuckles grazed Lian’s cheek as he pulled his hand away, and the sensation left behind a burning path.
“You’re shaking,” Cheng murmured.
Lian blinked fast. “I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
A long pause. Then Cheng asked, “Is it the dress? Or the idea of marrying me?”
Lian looked up sharply. “Don’t flatter yourself.”
That made Cheng smirk, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“You don’t need to be afraid of me, muñeca.”
“Maybe I’m not afraid,” Lian said. “Maybe I’m just… exhausted.”
There was something quiet and dangerous in Cheng's voice now. “You shouldn’t have to pretend when you’re with me.”
Lian stiffened.
If only you knew how much of me is pretend. Lian thought
The silence stretched between them.
Then Cheng did something Lian didn’t expect.
He took a step back.
Not because he was angry. But as if giving Lian space was the only kind of affection he knew how to offer.
“You’ve had enough for today,” Cheng said gently. “Go home. Rest.”
Lian didn’t move.
“Don’t you want to see how it looks when I walk in it?” he asked before he could stop himself.
Cheng’s head tilted, eyes narrowing. “Do you?”
Lian swallowed. “Maybe.”
Cheng stepped aside, gesturing toward the long runway mirror between the racks.
Lian turned toward it.
He took a few steps, heels clicking softly, dress swaying slightly at his ankles.
He didn’t feel like himself.
But he didn’t feel like Mei either.
He just… existed. Somewhere in between.
When he stopped, he looked at his reflection.
Then glanced at Cheng behind him — dark and dangerous and stunning in a way that made his pulse stutter.
And for a moment… just one fleeting second…
It didn’t feel like a lie.
It felt like a warning.
That something was beginning.
And it might break him.
Mei’S APARTMENT – LISBON, NIGHT
Mei stared at the latest photo sent from one of her private spy. Her brother — in her gown. Standing beside Cheng like some porcelain dream.
She zoomed in.
She’d seen herself in dresses like that.
But this wasn’t her reflection.
This was his.
Her mouth went dry.
Then she picked up her phone and sent a voice note.
Mei: We move in a week. I want to be there by the end of the month. I don’t care what it costs.
She ended the message and looked back at the photo again.
“He’s really doing it,” she whispered. “He’s becoming me.”
Her hand curled into a fist.
“Let’s see what happens when we’re both in the same city.”