Too Late To Love Me I Already Left With His Twins (Lydia and Dave) novel Chapter 13

Audacity

Lydia POV

Because the dress inside looked like it had lost a fight with common sense.

It was tiny.

Short enough to be offensive.

Tight enough to require prayer.

And covered in some kind of flashy embellishment that made it look less like a dress and more like a nightclub sponsorship. 1

I stared at it.

Then at the stylist.

Then back at the dress.

“…What is this?”

She blinked. “A mini crystal bodycon.”

“Yes, I can see that. But why?”

She gave a small, confused laugh. “It was one of the priority selections.”

Priority.

Interesting.

I set it aside and reached for the next one.

Maybe that had just been a tragic outlier.

It was not.

The second dress was a bright orange cutout thing with dramatic side slits and enough exposed skin to start a family argument.

I held it up in front of me and physically recoiled.

“This can’t be real.”

The stylist shifted her weight slightly.

I turned to the third outfit.

A feathered two–piece set.

Feathers.

Actual feathers.

White and dramatic and deeply committed to ruining my life.

It looked like something a woman would wear if her goal was to get photographed entering a scandal.

1/5

་།

+15 8gnus

Then I spotted one of the handbags.

Atiny glittering thing covered in stones and silver hardware.

It looked expensive.

It also looked like it belonged to someone who said things like “I don’t repeat bags, babe.”

Which was not, had never been, and would never be me. 1

I looked at the shoes next.

Sky–high heels with metallic straps and jeweled details.

Beautiful?

Maybe.

Wearable by me without filing a police report against my ankles?

Absolutely not.

My confusion slowly sharpened into irritation.

Then into something colder.

I turned back to the stylist.

“Sorry,” I said carefully, “did you get my actual mood board?”

Her polite smile faltered.

“Yes, ma’am.”

I folded my arms.

“Then why do all these clothes look like they were selected for a woman who introduces herself by saying ‘you probably know me from somewhere‘?”

The stylist let out a nervous laugh.

I did not.

Her smile died immediately.

I looked at her more closely now.

At the hesitation.

At the tiny flicker of discomfort.

And suddenly, I knew.

Not fully.

But enough.

“Who changed it?” I asked.

Her expression shifted.

2/5

+15 Bonus

I felt my stomach drop.

Who changed my order?”

“Ma’am, I…”

I stepped closer. “Who?”

The stylist swallowed.

Then, like someone choosing the least dangerous version of the truth, she said quietly:

“Miss Cyn said your preferences changed.”

Silence.

For exactly two seconds, I just stared at her.

Then I laughed.

A short, disbelieving sound.

Of course.

Of course it was Cyn.

15 Bonus

This wasn’t just about bad taste.

No.

Be less.

I hated it even more because the stylist was still standing there, awkward and apologetic, watching me process an identity crisis through fabric.

I exhaled slowly.

“This isn’t your fault,” I said.

Relief flashed across her face so quickly it almost made me feel bad.

Almost.

“But I’m not taking any of these.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

She bent slightly as if to begin repacking, but I held up a hand.

4/5

+15 Bonus

“No. Leave them.”

She paused.

I looked at the dresses again.

Then at the jeweled bag.

Then at the absurd silver heels.

A slow, petty thought formed in my head.

Actually…

Maybe I didn’t want them returned just yet.

Maybe I wanted evidence.

Maybe I wanted a proper visual reminder of just how insane this entire arrangement had become.

Or maybe, and this was equally possible, I simply wanted Cyn to waste her effort. T

“I’ll decide what to do with them later,” I said.

The stylist nodded carefully. “Very well, ma’am.”

Bernard appeared just in time to help move the boxes upstairs, and I stood there watching the whole thing disappear one glittering disaster at a time.

By the time the room was quiet again, I was no longer irritated.

Just tired.

Tired in that specific, bone–deep way that came from realizing peace in this house would apparently always come with conditions.

I sank into the couch and stared at nothing for a moment.

Then I reached for my phone when it buzzed.

Unknown Number.

Wear the silver one when he’s around.

I froze.

A second message came in.

He likes that style.

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D

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