Izabella clapped her hands together, her diamond bracelets clinking.
She gestured to the mountain of luxury shopping bags piled near the sofa. "I brought gifts for everyone from Europe!"
She pulled out a sleek, wooden box and handed it to Holt. He ripped it open. Inside sat a limited-edition Patek Philippe watch. Holt whistled loudly, immediately strapping it to his wrist.
Next, she handed a heavy, square package to Zane. He opened it to find a collection of rare, out-of-print vinyl records. He gave her a rare, genuine smile.
Finally, Izabella picked up a small, velvet box. She walked over to Clarke and handed it to him with both hands, her eyes gazing up at him adoringly.
Clarke opened it. It was a custom-made platinum tie clip. He stared at it for a second, his face unreadable. "Thank you," he said quietly, setting the box down on the coffee table.
Izabella turned around. She put her hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in exaggerated shock as she looked at Averi standing in the corner.
"Oh my god," Izabella gasped, her voice loud enough for the entire room to hear. "Averi, I am so, so sorry. I didn't know you were going to be here. I didn't buy you anything."
Holt let out a loud, cruel snort. "Don't worry about it, Bella. She wouldn't know what to do with luxury anyway. She'd probably try to eat it."
Averi kept her face perfectly blank. She shook her head, forcing a thick, awkward smile. "It's fine. I don't need anything."
Ricardo walked into the room, taking in the scene. He frowned slightly.
"Actually," Ricardo said, "the family is attending a charity gala this weekend. Clarke, take the girls to Fifth Avenue this afternoon. Averi needs a gown."
Izabella instantly looped her arm through Clarke's. "Oh, that's a wonderful idea! I'd love to help Averi pick out something... appropriate for her."
An hour later, the three of them stood inside the most exclusive haute couture boutique on Fifth Avenue.
The boutique manager rushed forward the moment Clarke walked in. But when her eyes landed on Averi's muddy face and baggy sweater, she physically recoiled, her smile faltering.
Izabella took total control. She ordered the staff to bring out the latest season's dresses. She stood in front of the massive three-way mirror, holding up a stunning, elegant black velvet gown against her body, admiring her own reflection.
Then, Izabella walked over to a rack in the far back corner. It was the clearance section for out-of-season, rejected designs.
She pulled out a dress.
It was a nightmare of fabric. It was a blinding, neon pink tulle ballgown. The skirt was ridiculously poofy, and the bodice was covered in cheap-looking plastic rhinestones. It looked like a costume for a deranged clown.
Izabella walked over and shoved the heavy pink monstrosity into Averi's arms.
"This is it," Izabella said, her eyes shining with malicious glee. "This color is so vibrant. It really brings out the... youth in your face. You have to wear this."
The boutique manager quickly turned her head, pressing her lips together to stop a laugh. Two salesgirls in the back openly covered their mouths, their shoulders shaking.
Clarke sat on a white leather sofa in the waiting area. He was flipping through a financial magazine. He didn't look up. He didn't care.
Averi looked down at the hideous pink dress. Her stomach twisted, not with humiliation, but with cold, calculated rage.
She immediately plastered a look of overwhelming gratitude onto her face.
"Oh wow," Averi gasped, clutching the tulle to her chest. "I've never owned anything so beautiful. Thank you so much, Izabella!"
Izabella's smile tightened. She had wanted Averi to cry, to feel the sting of the insult. But Averi's apparent stupidity ruined the fun. Izabella turned to Clarke. "She loves it, Clarke."
Clarke finally looked up. His eyes landed on the neon pink disaster. His brow furrowed deeply. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
But he didn't say a word to defend her. He simply pulled a black Amex card from his wallet and handed it to the manager. "Ring it up."
Averi walked into the fitting room to change.
She stood in front of the mirror. She looked at her yellow face, the thick glasses, and the ridiculous pink dress.
She let out a low, dark laugh.
She pulled out her encrypted phone and sent a message to Finn.
Need a micro-syringe of solvent and a waterproof earpiece. Have it ready by Saturday.
Averi changed back into her sweater. She walked out of the fitting room carrying the massive garment bag.
Izabella linked arms with Averi as they walked out onto the bustling sidewalk of Fifth Avenue. Izabella smiled for the paparazzi snapping photos of Clarke.
Averi smiled too. She looked at the side of Izabella's perfectly contoured face, her eyes dead and cold.
