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

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+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.