Chapter 93
"Go on, go pick a few."
Valencia gently pushed her shoulders toward the dressing room. "If you don't like them, just have them exchanged. I already arranged it with the store."
Lucinda was ushered into the dressing room. Outside, Valencia chatted happily with the attendants, her voice brimming with barely contained delight.
Lucinda stood before the two rows of clothing, reached out to feel the fabric of one of the coats, examined the cut, and nodded.
The craftsmanship was solid. The fit was right.
She was about to pick one to try on when light footsteps sounded behind her.
Dahlia quietly pushed the door open and peeked in. She wore a silk nightgown, her hair loose, her face carrying the lazy softness of someone freshly awake.
She walked over to the clothes, her gaze sweeping across the two rows, and her mouth curved into an obedient smile. "Lucinda, these clothes are so beautiful."
Her voice was syrupy sweet. "Mommy treats you so well. I'm jealous."
Lucinda didn't look at her. She continued browsing the rack.
Dahlia didn't seem bothered. She sidled closer, reached out to touch the fabric of a dress, her tone tentative. "Lucinda, there are so many clothes here—you couldn't possibly wear them all. Could you maybe… let me pick two?"
Her gaze rested on Lucinda's face, her eyes carrying just the right amount of hope, like a well-behaved younger sister coaxing her older one.
Lucinda turned her head and glanced at her.
"Pick."
One word. Flat and indifferent.
Dahlia's smile deepened. She quickly chose two pieces from the rack—a pale yellow dress and a light pink trench coat. Both were new season releases, neither cheap.
She clutched the clothes and stepped aside, her smile impossible to suppress.
Lucinda pulled her gaze away and went back to choosing.
She worked quickly. Her eyes scanned fabric, cut, fit—mentally cataloging each piece. What suited her, she took. What didn't, she passed over.
In less than five minutes, she held three items.
A black blazer. A cream-colored knit sweater. A pair of charcoal wide-leg trousers.
Simple, sharp, completely consistent with her usual style.
Just as she was about to head to the fitting room, Dahlia sidled up again.
"Lucinda, that black blazer you picked is so beautiful." Her gaze locked onto the jacket in Lucinda's hand, undisguised longing flickering in her eyes. "Could I maybe…"
She didn't finish the sentence, but the meaning was clear.
Lucinda stopped and turned to look at her.
Dahlia's fingers twisted in the hem of her nightgown, her face carrying an embarrassed smile. "Lucinda, I know you already let me pick two pieces, but I really love that blazer. Could you let me have it? I'll trade you both of mine for it. Please?"
Her tone was sweet and coaxing.
Lucinda looked at her. Then she handed the blazer to a nearby servant, her tone flat. "Go steam this."
A direct refusal.
She didn't even glance at Dahlia. Holding her other new clothes, she turned and walked straight into the dressing room.
Not a single word for her.
Dahlia stood there, clutching her two pieces, her smile cracking bit by bit.
She watched Lucinda's back disappear behind the dressing room door, her fingers tightening around the fabric in her hands.
Why?
She was allowed to pick two pieces—why couldn't she have that one too?
Lucinda was only acting superior because she was the biological daughter. Everyone deferred to her.
She took a deep breath, forced down the resentment rising in her chest, and turned to leave with her clothes.
Soon after, Lucinda emerged from the dressing room, now holding the black blazer.
She handed it to a nearby servant, her voice calm. "Take this to my room."
The servant took it with both hands and was about to turn when Dahlia hurried over, that signature obedient smile plastered on her face.
"I'll do it." Her tone was sweet. "I'm heading upstairs anyway. I can bring it up for Lucinda. And about earlier… I also wanted to apologize."
She turned her gaze to Lucinda, her voice softening. "Lucinda, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have tried to compete with you over clothes. You just came back—Mommy treating you well is only natural. I shouldn't have… thought that way."
The servant stood there, glancing between Dahlia and Lucinda, unsure what to do.
Lucinda glanced at Dahlia.
Her gaze was detached, as though she didn't take her words seriously at all.
"Suit yourself."
She said nothing more and turned toward the living room.
Dahlia lowered her head, her mouth curving into a fleeting smirk. Then she lifted her head, took the blazer from the servant, and headed upstairs.
Her pace was unhurried, her posture straight.
When she reached the corner on the second floor and confirmed no one from downstairs could see her, that obedient expression shattered completely.
She pushed open Lucinda's door and hung the blazer on a hanger. Then she reached into the pocket of her nightgown and pulled out a small paper packet.
She unfolded it. Inside was a layer of pale white powder, almost invisible under the light.
She pinched a bit of the powder between her fingers and lightly flicked it onto the inside of the collar, the edges of the cuffs, and the area along the back that would touch bare skin.
The powder settled onto the black fabric, nearly impossible to see.
She tucked the packet away, dusted off her hands, and her mouth curved into a venomous smile.
"Wear it. Scratch yourself raw."
She turned and left the room, pulling the door shut behind her.
When Lucinda returned to her room, she immediately spotted the blazer hanging on the rack.
She stood at the door, her gaze slowly sweeping over it.
Then she walked over, took the blazer off the hanger, and flipped it to the inside of the collar.
She rubbed her finger lightly against the fabric. A thin layer of nearly invisible pale white powder clung to her fingertip.
She brought it to her nose and sniffed. Her mouth curved slightly.
Itching powder.
Made from plant extracts. Contact with skin caused prolonged itching, but left no trace and faded on its own after a few hours.
It didn't damage skin or bones, but it made every inch of your body feel like ants were crawling on it.
A delightful little torture device.
She'd seen the formula for this stuff in the lab. Even refined it herself.
With a few added ingredients, the effect doubled, lasted longer, and…
She walked to her vanity, opened a drawer, and pulled out a small glass vial filled with pale blue liquid.
She'd mixed it herself—originally meant for something else.
She dipped a cotton swab into it and evenly applied it to the inside of the collar, the cuff edges, and the back lining that would touch skin.
After finishing, she held the blazer up to the light and confirmed there were no visible traces before hanging it back on the rack.