Chapter 101 To the Fifth Avenue Boutiques

Chapter 101 To the Fifth Avenue Boutiques
While Owen retreated to his massive walk-in closet to finish getting dressed for the day, Leona scooped Olive off the bed and carried the happy toddler down the hall to the sunlit kitchen.
She effortlessly fastened a squirming Olive into her sleek high chair at the marble island. She quickly diced up a handful of fresh strawberries and a banana, setting the colorful assortment of fruit on the plastic tray. Olive immediately went to work, happily grabbing the sticky fruit with both hands and making a glorious, contented mess.
With her oldest daughter happily occupied, Leona moved to the stove. She quickly toasted some artisan bread and scrambled a couple of eggs perfectly, sliding the hot breakfast onto a plate just as Owen walked back into the kitchen.
He looked devastatingly handsome, fully transformed back into the formidable Zenith CEO in a crisp, dark tailored suit. He flashed Leona a grateful, dimpled smile, accepting the plate and a fresh mug of coffee.
Owen leaned against the marble island, eating his breakfast while watching his wife and daughter in the morning sunlight. He had just scooped up his very last bite of scrambled eggs when the soft, melodic ding of the private elevator echoed through the penthouse.
The heavy silver doors slid open, and Diane Stark practically swept into the entryway. She looked utterly flawless, dressed in a chic, tailored designer pantsuit, holding a pristine leather handbag, and radiating the kind of unstoppable energy that only the Stark matriarch possessed when she was on a mission.
Owen chuckled, quickly swallowing his food and setting his empty plate down. He closed the distance between them, wrapping an arm around Leona's waist to pull her in for a deep, lingering kiss that tasted like dark roast coffee.
Then, he leaned over the high chair, pressing a loud, affectionate kiss right into the center of Olive's messy, fruit-sticky dark curls.
Finally, Owen turned his attention to the elegant woman standing in his entryway. He walked over, leaning down to press a kiss to her perfectly powdered cheek.
"Good morning, Mom. Goodbye, Mom," Owen teased effortlessly, a wicked, arrogant smirk touching his lips as he grabbed his leather briefcase from the table.
Diane swatted playfully at his arm. "Get to work, Owen," she commanded with a fond, dismissive wave of her hand. "The women have important business to attend to today."
From her high chair, Olive watched her father head toward the elevator doors. She popped a strawberry out of her mouth and waved a sticky, chubby little hand enthusiastically in the air.
"Bye bye, Dada!" the toddler squealed, her bright voice echoing cheerfully.
Owen stepped into the elevator, turning around to face his family. His stormy eyes were completely soft as he looked at the messy-haired little girl. "Bye, sweet pea. I'll be home after work."
Olive immediately tried to mimic the unfamiliar phrase, her little brow furrowing in deep toddler concentration as her mouth worked around the syllables.
"Affffferr rrrk!" Olive proudly announced, her dark eyes lighting up as she completely botched the pronunciation, instantly dissolving into a bright, musical fit of giggles at her own attempt.
Owen threw his head back and let out a rich, booming laugh as the silver doors slid shut, carrying him down to the bustling city below.
The second the elevator was gone, Diane completely took over the room. She walked right past the kitchen island, dropping her designer bag on a stool, and reached her arms out. With practiced ease, she unbuckled Olive and hoisted the sticky, giggling toddler right onto her hip, completely unbothered by the threat of strawberry juice on her expensive couture.
Diane beamed at the little girl, her eyes sparkling with pure, unadulterated grandmotherly delight. "Are you ready to shop with Granna?"
It took a solid hour of coordinated chaos to get everyone out the door, but Leona moved with the focused, efficient grace of a mother on a mission.
First on the agenda was stripping Olive down and wrestling the giggling, strawberry-covered toddler into the bath. Once Olive was scrubbed clean and smelling perfectly of sweet baby shampoo, Leona went to work on her hair. With intense concentration and a lot of squirming from her tiny client, Leona managed to gather the toddler's dark, wildly curling hair into two tiny pigtails right on top of her head. There was barely enough hair to actually secure them, leaving two adorable, curly little bumps sticking straight up on either side.
With Olive dressed in a soft play outfit, Leona quickly threw her own clothes on, opting for absolute comfort for a long day of shopping. She pulled on her favorite, perfectly worn-in jeans, a cozy oversized sweater, and a pair of comfortable white sneakers.
She packed the massive diaper bag to the brim and carefully secured a sleeping Hazel into her infant carrier. By the time they finally glided down the private elevator and stepped out into the subterranean garage, Diane was already waiting by the open door of the sleek, black Zenith town car.
Leona secured Olive into her forward-facing car seat, buckling the harness over the toddler's chest, and clicked Hazel's carrier safely into the base right beside her. Leona slid into the plush leather seat next to them, while Diane settled into the opposite side, elegantly crossing her legs.
"To the Fifth Avenue boutiques, Marcus, please," Diane instructed the driver smoothly.
As the town car smoothly pulled out of the garage and merged into the bustling flow of Manhattan traffic, Diane reached across the seat, her perfectly manicured hand resting warmly over Leona's knee. The formidable Stark matriarch's expression softened, but her eyes held a sharp, unyielding, fiercely protective steel.
"When you called me last night, Leona, I practically wept with pride," Diane said, her voice dropping to a low, serious register that wouldn't carry over the sound of the engine.
It had been Leona who picked up the phone the second Owen started making calls to his legal team. She had dialed Diane directly, her voice hard and resolute, and laid out exactly what she wanted to do.
"I refuse to hide my girls," Leona said quietly, looking at Diane. "They want to drag us into family court and inspect Olive like she's a piece of property. But they aren't going to see a scared family. They're going to see a united front."
Leona looked down at her hands, taking a steadying breath before meeting Diane's eyes again. "That's why I need your help today. I want to find the most perfect, identical olive-green outfits for me and Olive. And something beautiful in olive for Hazel. But..." Leona smiled softly. "I also want to find something stunning in olive green for you, Diane. I want every single person sitting behind us in that courtroom wearing that color."
Diane’s jaw clenched, a flash of pure, unadulterated emotion crossing her elegant features before settling into a cold, calculating, and devastatingly proud smile. Her grip on Leona's knee tightened in absolute solidarity.
"It is a brilliant, ruthless, and entirely perfect psychological play, Leona," Diane agreed, her voice a lethal, quiet purr that sent a shiver of confidence straight down Leona's spine.