Hermia's POV
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"Wait. She'll take the dress."
The voice sliced through the air like a blade — deep, commanding, and absolute. It didn't ask. It declared.
The boutique, once buzzing with idle chatter and soft laughter, fell into an eerie silence. Even the delicate music filtering through the overhead speakers seemed to dim, as though the sound itself feared to disobey the authority in those words.
I didn't move. Couldn't move. My fingers tightened around the dress, the silky fabric crumpling beneath my grip as my heart thundered against my ribs. Every pair of eyes in the room swiveled toward the voice's source, wide with disbelief and curiosity.
"Who said that?"
"Is it… could it be him?"
"No way. Niklaus Hathaway?"
Niklaus Hathaway.
