Chapter 66 Being a Beautiful Trophy
When Sophia learned that Gabriel would be joining them for dinner, she was both flattered and overjoyed.
"Arabella, we absolutely cannot let you pay for this meal—it has to be our treat. The fact that Mr. Sterling is even giving us this courtesy is already more than generous!" Sophia's voice bubbled with excitement and gratitude over the phone.
Arabella frowned. "Sophia... the whole misunderstanding started because of me, and Gabriel was the one who caused you losses. By all rights, we should be the ones treating you to apologize."
"No, no, no—you don't understand. This dinner is definitely our treat. I'll book the restaurant and send you the details."
Before Arabella could protest further, Sophia quickly hung up.
Shortly after, she sent a location via Instagram, saying the restaurant was already reserved.
With no choice left, Arabella had to let the couple treat them.
Though it was the weekend, Gabriel remained as busy as ever.
He returned to the office early that morning to handle business, then rushed back home at three in the afternoon.
Arabella had just woken from her afternoon nap and initially intended to ignore him when he walked over and announced, "Get ready. We're going out."
She startled. "Dinner isn't until six tonight—why are we leaving so early?"
"I'm taking you to try on some dresses."
"Try on... dresses?" Her eyes widened in surprise.
What did he mean by that?
Gabriel looked her up and down appraisingly. "I told you a few days ago that there's a very formal event next week, and you're accompanying me. You weren't seriously planning to attend in casual clothes, were you?"
Arabella suddenly remembered—during their argument a few days prior, he had indeed mentioned this.
He wanted to take her to a public formal event, to openly acknowledge her identity and prove he wasn't ashamed to be seen with her.
At the time, she'd thought he was just talking in the heat of the moment. She hadn't expected him to actually follow through.
"Gabriel, given our relationship, this isn't appropriate. Besides, I wouldn't know how to handle myself at such an event. If I embarrass myself, it will only reflect poorly on you." Arabella gently declined.
It wasn't self-deprecation—it was truth.
As an orphan from a small town, she'd never experienced high society gatherings in the big city. The social classes were worlds apart.
She didn't want to make a fool of herself and become gossip fodder.
"I'm not worried about it, so why should you be? Trust me, even if you lack other talents, you're more than qualified to be a beautiful trophy."
At those words, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Was that supposed to be a compliment about her looks or an insult about her lack of substance?
Gabriel clarified, "Don't overthink it—that was a compliment."
Given his position, he'd encountered countless beautiful women, but in his eyes, none were as pleasing to look at as Arabella.
At that moment, Gabriel hadn't yet realized this was a sign that his feelings for her had already changed.
"You should be grateful to your parents for blessing you with such beautiful features," Gabriel said, studying her striking, radiant face.
At the mention of her parents, Arabella's expression immediately darkened.
Her father had died in an accident when she was young, and her mother, disgusted by being left with only the old, weak, and sick as burdens for life, had used the excuse of finding work elsewhere and never returned.
She must have abandoned them long ago and remarried.
As a child, Arabella had awakened countless nights crying for her mother. During holidays when other families celebrated together in warmth and joy, she would sit alone in the bitter cold at the street corner, watching and hoping.
But through summer heat and winter frost, year after year, that familiar figure never appeared.
Her mother's face had grown increasingly blurry in her memory.
Now someone was suddenly telling her she should be grateful to her parents for inheriting beautiful features.
Should she be grateful?
In her memory, there had been a yellowed, worn black-and-white photo in their home—half torn—from her parents' wedding. Her grandmother had cut off her mother's portion.
What remained showed her father's handsome, honest features.
Throughout her life, she'd heard countless people say how good-looking her father was, how her mother had initially looked down on his family's poverty but married him anyway because he was so handsome.
So her beauty must have come from her father.
Deep down, she instinctively rejected the woman who had given birth to her and didn't want to ponder her appearance.
Lost in these swirling thoughts, Arabella murmured, "If I should thank anyone, it would be my dad. My father was very handsome."
Seeing her reaction, Gabriel remembered her tragic background.
He hadn't meant to hurt her—purely out of curiosity, he asked seriously, "Do you hate your mother?"
Arabella remained silent.
He pressed on, "Your mother has been gone all these years. Haven't you ever thought about finding her?"
Arabella's eyes turned cold. "What for? She didn't want to raise me, abandoned me, and thought I was nothing but a burden. Why should I humiliate myself?"
Seeing her intense reaction, Gabriel knew this topic shouldn't be pursued further and returned to the original subject. "Alright, enough of that. Come on, let's go out."
His interest was piqued, and regardless of whether she was willing, he simply pulled her out the door.
No driver, no assistant or secretary in tow—just the two of them.
After driving for over half an hour, the Bentley stopped in front of an upscale shopping center in the city center.
Getting out of the car, Arabella stared at the luxury boutique before her—occupying two floors with an elegant, sophisticated interior—feeling like a country mouse entering the big city.
"Come on, don't be nervous. The owner of this store is Wendy. I called her this morning," Gabriel said, taking her hand and leading her inside.
Arabella was mildly surprised.
Having been married into the Sterling family for over two years, she certainly knew who Wendy was.
Wendy Sterling was Helen's daughter and Chase's sister, a few years younger than Gabriel.
She hadn't expected someone as young as Wendy to be running such a large luxury boutique in the heart of the city, where real estate was astronomically expensive.
Truly impressive.
"Gabriel! Arabella! You made it!" The radiant and glamorous Wendy immediately approached them with a smile when she spotted Gabriel.
Gabriel nodded. "Are you free? I mentioned this morning that I wanted to bring her to try on some formal wear."
Wendy warmly stepped forward and linked arms with Arabella with a smile. "No matter how busy I am, when you and Arabella visit, I'll personally attend to you! Come on, the designer pieces are all upstairs—let's go take a look."
Arabella had a favorable impression of Wendy and allowed herself to be led, returning the friendly smile. "Thank you for the trouble."
"No trouble at all—having you as customers is exactly what I hope for," Wendy said with genuine warmth. Her personality was pleasant, and she clearly admired Gabriel, making her speech casual and sincere.
Halfway up the stairs, Wendy suddenly remembered something and lowered her voice. "Oh, by the way, Gabriel, Emily is upstairs, too."
Gabriel's expression shifted slightly as he glanced at Wendy, then at Arabella, seemingly worried about her reaction.
But Arabella remained composed.
Emily had arrived first—what could they do about it?
They could hardly ask the staff to kick out another valued customer just because they wanted to shop for clothes.
Understanding the awkward dynamics, Wendy explained, "She's also trying on formal wear—probably preparing for the Economic Forum reception as well."
"Mm," Gabriel responded with a neutral grunt, saying nothing more.
After all, they were old friends—if they happened to run into each other, a polite greeting wouldn't hurt.