Chapter 130 Amelia Is So Impressive!
The four images Amelia sent lit up the group chat.
Four sharply different men's suits, all in shades of pink and white, each carrying a subtle Hello Kitty motif. The fabrics looked expensive, the tailoring precise, the details clever without being forced.
The first set: a pale pink blazer over a crisp white shirt, the tie embroidered with a tiny Hello Kitty face. Playful, but still polished.
The second: a white double-breasted jacket with a small plush Hello Kitty pinned neatly at the chest. It should have looked ridiculous—yet somehow it didn't. It felt deliberate, almost regal.
The third: a diagonally woven fabric cut into a sharp, modern silhouette. The usual front button was replaced with a gleaming Hello Kitty metal clasp at the waist. It carried a hint of rebellion, a rakish charm that didn't care for rules.
The fourth: pure preppy academia—shirt, tie, a three-button blazer. But each button was a different Hello Kitty design, whimsical against the otherwise disciplined lines.
On any of them, the pink wouldn't read as soft or effeminate. Instead, it would be vibrant, playful, touched with nostalgia. The Hello Kitty details didn't clash—they blended in, as if they had always belonged.
Dorian's reaction came fast, a rapid-fire burst of messages.
[Wait—these are from last year's The Thorn Birds x Hello Kitty collaboration, right? Ms. Simmons designed them herself.]
[I've seen all of Ms. Simmons' work, but this series stuck in my mind. When the collab was announced, everyone thought she'd design cute pink dresses for girls. No one expected an entire menswear line.]
[The rumor was that Ms. Simmons wanted to break stereotypes—stop assigning colors to genders. Girls can love blue. Guys can love pink. And they can look damn good in it.]
[She said once—liking pink doesn't make a guy less masculine. If anything, it can make him braver.]
Asher dropped a reply.
[I know Ms. Simmons and The Thorn Birds, but I've never seen these suits before. They're actually amazing. So… do we just buy them? They'd be perfect for the Kitty Dessert House.]
Dorian: [We can't.]
Asher hadn't even picked which one he'd wear before Dorian shot him down.
Dorian: [They were a limited concept series. Never mass-produced. Each one exists as a single piece. Even if I love them, they're impossible to get.]
You could almost hear the regret in his voice through the screen.
Then Amelia's reply appeared, calm and certain. [I can get them.]
Dorian froze. [Seriously?]
[Yes. I know Ms. Simmons. I've already spoken to her assistant.]
Her next messages came in quick succession.
[I think the first, second, third, and fourth suits should go to Asher, Zander, Tobias, and Leroy, respectively.]
[Send me your measurements. They'll adjust the originals for you. You'll have them by next Tuesday. The girls' outfits will arrive with them.]
Dorian just stared at her screen.
Forget how Amelia knew Rosie Simmons—how could she so casually arrange for one-of-a-kind designer suits to be altered and sent to them? This wasn't just networking. This was… another league entirely.
What kind of connection did she have? Had she saved Rosie's life or something?
Dorian didn't know—and couldn't have guessed—that Rosie Simmons was much closer than she thought.
Amelia kept typing:
[Since we changed the theme, I rewrote Eric's original plan and went over every detail with him again.]
[Everything we bought for the café can be returned—they're unopened. Eric already has people shopping for the new supplies tonight.]
[We should have everything by Monday or Tuesday. We can set up on the field before the anniversary. We'll be ready.]
[And about the crowd—don't worry. Ryan's coming. He'll sing too.]
Dorian's jaw had been hanging open since the suits. Now it was practically unhinged.
When had Amelia even had the time? Rachel's plagiarism had been discovered barely hours ago. Dorian had been gossiping in the chat, convinced no one else had noticed. Yet Amelia had already pivoted the entire project, secured impossible outfits, rewritten the plan, arranged procurement… and booked Ryan.
Ryan. As in Ryan—the top-tier celebrity she'd half-joked about inviting alongside Kevin and Chris. She'd never imagined he'd actually show up for a high school anniversary.
Dorian: [Amelia, you're unbelievable.]
The group chat quieted. Amelia glanced at the time—11:30 p.m.
They'd been talking for hours. Zander hadn't said a word.
Her brows drew together. Had he not seen the messages? Or was he choosing not to answer?
She'd passed him earlier when she came home. He'd gone straight upstairs, skipping dinner entirely. Even in that brief moment, she'd noticed the pallor in his face, the faint unsteadiness in his step.
Was he sick? Is that why he never replied?
She set Shadow down gently, stood, and headed upstairs to the second floor. She stopped outside his room and knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again. Still nothing.
She inhaled, about to go downstairs for the spare key, when the door swung open.
Zander stood there in thick pajamas, pale and sharp-featured even now. Fine beads of sweat clung to his forehead, and a flush that didn't look healthy touched his cheeks. His breathing was uneven.
She opened her mouth to say his name, but before she could, his frame wavered. Too thin, too light, he swayed forward—and collapsed into her.