Chapter 2 - The Harrell Transformation
The Harrell private estate was a hive of activity when we arrived.
Waiters,
stylists,
and designers were already waiting in the grand hall.
My father had made three phone calls on the drive over.
The first was to the most exclusive boutique in the city.
The second was to the world's leading jewelry house.
The third was to the organizers of the Apex Group gala.
"He thinks you aren't good enough for his table?"
my father muttered,
watching as a team of stylists began their work.
"He doesn't even know whose table he is sitting at."
I sat in the chair,
letting them strip away the navy dress.
It was a relic of a woman who was willing to shrink herself for love.
That woman was gone.
The lead stylist,
a man who usually only dressed royalty,
approached me with a gown.
It was made of midnight silk,
embedded with thousands of tiny sapphires that shimmered like a moving galaxy.
"This,"
he said,
"is the armor of a queen."
As I stepped into the dress,
I felt the weight of it.
It was heavy,
expensive,
and undeniable.
Then came the jewelry.
A diamond tiara that had been in our family for four generations.
A necklace of tear-drop emeralds that looked like liquid fire.
I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize the woman staring back.
She looked powerful.
She looked dangerous.
She looked like a Harrell.
My father walked into the room,
dressed in a tuxedo that probably cost more than Spencer’s SUV.
He stopped when he saw me,
a proud smile touching his lips.
"There she is,"
he said softly.
"The princess of the empire."
"Are you ready,
Phoebe?"
I picked up my phone and saw a new notification from Paisley.
It was a video of her and Spencer laughing,
toasting with champagne.
The caption read:
"Living the dream while you live in the past."
I deleted the message and turned off the screen.
"I’m ready,
May you like
Dad."
"Let’s show them what a real embarrassment looks like."
