Chapter 269 - 0268: Twenty Million Dollars

Chapter 269: Chapter 0268: Twenty Million Dollars

Elena’s Point Of View

"Jaxx made me create something for you."

For a moment, I didn’t react. Not because I didn’t hear her, but because my brain refused to process it. I just stared at her, my mouth slightly open, words trapped somewhere between my throat and my tongue, waiting for her to laugh, to say she was joking, to take it back. But she didn’t. She just stood there, arms folded, watching me like she was savoring every second of my confusion. There was a glint in her eye, the kind she got when she knew something I didn’t, something she’d been dying to reveal all along.

"Lexi..." My voice came out slower than I expected, careful and uncertain, like I was afraid of what might happen if I spoke too fast.

She tilted her head slightly, as if repeating something obvious, her expression maddeningly calm. "I said Jaxx contacted me. Personally. Asked me to create something for you."

I blinked. Once. Then again, trying to clear the fog from my thoughts. My mind scrambled to catch up, to make sense of words that felt like they belonged to someone else’s life. "What?"

She laughed softly, a sound that held both amusement and something gentler underneath, the kind of laugh that only came from years of knowing someone inside and out. "Oh, now you’re shocked?"

"I... what do you mean he contacted you?" My hands had started to tremble slightly, so I pressed them against my thighs, needing something solid to hold onto.

"Exactly what I said."

"When?"

"Two weeks ago."

That made my head snap up, my pulse suddenly loud in my ears, drowning out every other sound in the room. "Two weeks... Lexi, I wasn’t even - "

"I know," she cut in smoothly, her voice dropping to something more serious, more deliberate. "That’s what makes it interesting."

I frowned, a knot forming in my stomach, tightening with every passing second. "No, that makes it suspicious."

She rolled her eyes, but there was affection in the gesture, the kind that softened even her most exasperated expressions. "Relax, detective. He didn’t kidnap me or force me to sew under threat."

"I didn’t say that."

"You were thinking it."

"I was not."

"You were." Her smile widened, stretching slow and knowing across her face.

I pressed my lips together, narrowing my eyes at her, though I could feel heat creeping up my neck, betraying me before I could stop it. She only smirked, clearly enjoying herself, feeding off my discomfort like it was the best entertainment she’d had all week.

"Girl... you never told me this guy is so into you."

I scoffed immediately, the sound sharp and defensive. "He’s not into me." The words came out too fast, too defensive, and we both knew it the instant they left my mouth.

Her eyebrow lifted slowly, deliberately, a silent accusation that needed no further elaboration. "Oh really?"

"Yes."

"Elena."

"What?"

She leaned forward slightly, her gaze piercing through my weak defenses like she could see straight into the parts of me I kept hidden even from myself. "Are you trying to convince me... or yourself?"

I opened my mouth. Then paused. Because, annoyingly, I didn’t have an immediate answer. The truth sat somewhere I wasn’t ready to examine, tucked away behind walls I’d built for reasons I didn’t want to name. I looked away instead, focusing on a spot on the wall, anything to avoid the knowing look in her eyes.

"He’s just... being Jaxx."

"That doesn’t mean anything."

"It means everything." My voice came out quieter than intended, almost a confession I hadn’t meant to make.

She let out a quiet laugh, warm and knowing, the kind that told me she’d already won this argument before it started. "Okay, fine. Let’s ignore the obvious."

"I’m not ignoring anything."

"You are."

"I’m not."

"You are."

I pointed at her, trying to regain some control of this conversation, though I could feel it slipping further away with every word. "You’re annoying."

"And you’re in denial." She said it gently, without judgment, which somehow made it worse, landing closer to the truth than I wanted to admit.

I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through my hair, feeling the tension coiled in my shoulders refuse to loosen. "Can we just move on from this?"

She smiled slowly, mercifully, like she’d decided I’d suffered enough for one conversation. "Gladly."

Then her expression shifted slightly, more excited now, more focused. The energy in the room changed with it, charged with something unspoken, something building. "Wait till you see what I made."

Something in her tone made my stomach flip slightly, anticipation replacing anxiety, curiosity chasing away the lingering embarrassment. "Lexi..."

She didn’t answer me. Instead, she reached over and picked up the intercom, her movements deliberate, almost ceremonial. "Come in with it... yes, that one."

I sat up straighter without realizing it, my breath catching in my throat. "What do you mean ’that one’?"

She ignored me. Of course she did.

A few minutes later, the door opened. Three people walked in, carefully pushing a hanger rack into the room, their movements reverent, as if they were transporting something precious, something fragile enough to shatter under careless hands. It was covered completely, wrapped in a way that only deepened the mystery. My eyes followed it immediately, unable to look away.

"What is that?"

Lexi waved the staff away with a gracious nod, every inch the composed hostess even now. "Thank you, you can go."

They left quietly, closing the door behind them with a soft click. Silence settled in the room, heavy and expectant. Anticipation filled the space so thick I could almost feel it pressing against my skin, making each breath deliberate, measured, like the air itself understood the weight of this moment.

I stood slowly, my legs suddenly unsteady beneath me. "Lexi..."

She stood up too, walking toward the covered hanger with a small smile playing at her lips, clearly savoring this moment she’d been building toward. "In the count of three."

I swallowed hard, my throat dry. "Why do I feel like I should be scared?"

"You shouldn’t." Her voice was gentle, reassuring, carrying a certainty that did little to calm the storm inside me.

"That doesn’t make me feel better."

She laughed softly, the sound breaking some of the tension that had wound tight around us. "Relax."

Then she looked at me, her eyes bright with excitement and something deeper... pride, maybe, or the quiet joy of someone about to give the perfect gift. "Ready?"

I hesitated, my heart already racing, every nerve in my body humming with nervous energy. Then I nodded, not trusting my voice to hold steady.

She lifted her hand. "Three..."

My heart picked up, hammering against my ribs like it wanted out.

"Two..."

My fingers curled slightly at my sides, nails pressing into my palms, grounding me in the only sensation I could control.

"One."

She pulled the cover away, and I forgot how to breathe.

The sound that left me wasn’t planned. It just... escaped. A sharp, stunned gasp that echoed louder than I expected, raw and unfiltered, stripped of any pretense.

"Lexi..." My voice didn’t sound like mine; it was barely a whisper, thick with emotion I couldn’t name. Because I couldn’t find the right words.

The dress... No. Calling it a dress felt wrong, inadequate, almost insulting to whatever this truly was. It was something else entirely. Something unreal. The fabric caught the light in a way that made it look alive, shifting softly with every tiny movement in the room, like water or moonlight given form. The structure was flawless, hugging the shape of the mannequin like it had been made for a body that didn’t exist yet, but somehow, I could already see it on me, could already feel how it would move against my skin, how it would make me feel like someone entirely new.

The details... God, the details. Every inch of it looked intentional, deliberate, carefully designed. Not just beautiful. Personal. Like Lexi had somehow reached inside my head and pulled out a dream I didn’t even know I had been carrying.

I took a step forward without realizing it, drawn by something I couldn’t name. Then another. My eyes moved slowly over it, trying to take everything in at once and failing, overwhelmed by the sheer artistry laid bare in front of me.

"Lexi..." I glanced at her, my vision blurring slightly with tears I hadn’t expected. Then back at the dress. Then back at her again, needing to ground myself in something familiar amid all this overwhelming beauty. "How long?"

She leaned against the table, crossing her arms, watching me with quiet satisfaction, the pride of a creator witnessing her work finally seen. "Two weeks."

I shook my head slightly, still struggling to process. "No... I mean... how long did this take you?"

"All of it." Her voice was soft, matter-of-fact, though something tender lingered beneath the simplicity of her words.

She paused briefly, her fingers still resting on the delicate fabric, almost reluctant to let go of the secret a moment longer. Then she added quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, "He came here himself."

That made me look at her again, my attention snapping away from the dress entirely. "What?"

"It took a lot of talking before I agreed," she continued, her tone growing softer with each word, more vulnerable than I was used to hearing from her. "I was scared."

"Scared?" I echoed, not understanding. "Of what?"

"That he was playing with you again." Her eyes held a protective fierceness I’d seen before, back when we were younger and she’d stood between me and the world’s cruelties, back when she’d been the only shield I had.

My chest tightened, an old familiar ache resurfacing, memories I thought I’d buried stirring just beneath the surface. "But then..."

She shrugged lightly, though her expression remained serious, thoughtful. "I saw him. Really saw him."

"And?" I prompted, needing to hear more, hungry for whatever truth she’d uncovered.

"And he didn’t look anything like the boy we knew back in high school."

She studied my face as she spoke, gauging my reaction carefully, like she was measuring how much I could take. I didn’t say anything, couldn’t find the words. Because I understood exactly what she meant. I’d seen the change too, felt it in every interaction we’d had since he’d come back into my life, in every glance that lingered a little too long.

"He looked like a man," she continued, her eyes steady on mine, unwavering in their certainty, "willing to do anything for his woman. For you."

My breath caught, the air suddenly feeling thinner, harder to pull into my lungs. I looked away quickly, focusing back on the dress as if it could anchor me to something solid and real, something I could understand without unraveling completely.

"I agreed," she finished simply, with the quiet confidence of someone who’d made peace with her decision long before she’d spoken it aloud. "And he told me he didn’t care about the price. Said to make it perfect, whatever it took."

I stepped closer to the mannequin, drawn by an invisible thread, close enough now that I could reach out and touch what he’d done for me. My hand lifted slowly, trembling slightly, then stopped, hovering in the air between intention and action, caught in that fragile space where fear and longing collided.

I turned to her, suddenly uncertain. "Can I touch it?"

She rolled her eyes immediately, though affection softened the gesture into something warm. "Silly, of course you can. It’s yours."

Yours. The word hit differently this time, carrying weight I hadn’t expected, settling into my chest like something permanent. Ownership. Belonging. Promise. I swallowed hard against the emotion rising in my throat, unsure if I wanted to laugh or cry.

Then slowly, reverently, I let my fingers brush against the fabric. Soft beyond imagination. Smooth as water. Real in a way that made everything else feel like a dream I might wake from at any second.

"This is..." My voice came out hushed, awed. I trailed off, searching for adequate words, because I didn’t have them. For once, I actually didn’t.

A nervous laugh escaped me as I pulled my hand back slightly, afraid I might somehow damage the perfection before me, afraid that something this beautiful couldn’t possibly survive contact with my uncertain hands. "This doesn’t look cheap."

The understatement felt absurd even as I said it, almost laughable given what stood in front of me.

"That’s because it isn’t," Lexi replied, matter-of-fact, though something careful lingered in her tone now.

I picked up my glass without thinking, taking a long sip to steady myself, to prepare for whatever was coming, some instinct warning me that the answer wouldn’t be simple. "Okay..." I set the glass down carefully, bracing myself. "How much?"

She didn’t answer immediately, and I watched her expression shift, become more guarded, more hesitant than I’d seen all evening. And that pause made my stomach drop like a stone into dark water, dread pooling where excitement had been only moments before.

"Lexi..." I said her name like a warning, like a plea, needing her to just say it and end the suspense.

She tilled her head, watching me carefully, reading me the way only a best friend could, the way only someone who’d known every version of me over the years could. Then she said, with deliberate slowness, "Twenty million dollars."