Page 122 of The Jaded Notes

As we step down the staircase together, past the family photos that finally include pictures of my design work alongside my old headshots, and past the fresh flowers Mom arranges every Friday like hope made tangible, I catch my reflection in the hallway mirror one more time.

This time, I don’t see Lehlani Rose staring back at me. I see myself, Livianna Grace. She’s the woman who took her sister’s memory and turned it into something beautiful, powerful, and worth celebrating.

I’m the woman who learned to love the broken parts of herself enough to let someone else hold them without cutting his hands on the edges. The woman who’s about to march into a meeting that could change everything, carrying her sister’s name like a crown instead of chains.

I take a breath and try to focus on something other than this life-changing moment. “Dad, can we look for houses for me this weekend? I want to be in something soon.”

“Of course we can, but you need to be single-minded until this deal is made.” He gives me a quick peck on the cheek. “Knock ’em dead.”

“Thanks, I’ll do my best.” I force a tight smile and head to the most important meeting of my career.

Please, God, let this go off without a hitch.

The designer kitchen sparkles under new crystal chandeliers. My portfolio is still clutched in sweaty palms, and my heart is hammering against my ribs like it’s trying to escape.

Mom and Dad stand at the marble island, wearing formal evening wear that screams money and expectation. She’s inmidnight blue, which makes her look like Hollywood royalty. My dad’s in a perfectly tailored tuxedo that could fund a small country.

“There she is, our little mogul.” Dad’s smile is warm but expectant as he adjusts his cufflinks. “How did the meeting with Marcus Chen go?”

“It went well, I think.” I set my belongings on the counter, trying to read their expressions for clues about why they’re dressed like they’re attending a state dinner. “He seemed impressed with the collection, but I won’t know anything definitive for a while.”

My mom straightens out her dress. “Why will it take a while?”

“Due diligence and making sure all my legal documents and claims stand up to what I reported to him.” My phone buzzes in my pocket for what feels like the hundredth time today. I peek at it.

Jax’s pet name lights up the screen like a beacon of frustration. We’ve been playing phone tag since this morning. We keep missing each other’s calls by minutes, our schedules conflicting like planets refusing to align.

“I’m sure everything will turn out wonderfully, darling.” Mom glides over to kiss my cheek. Her perfume swirls around me. “Now hurry upstairs and change into that gorgeous purple dress we picked out last week. We have a wedding to attend.”

“A wedding?” I blink at her, confusion cutting through my post-meeting exhaustion. “Whose? I don’t have anything on my calendar.”

“Andrew Carter is getting married tonight.” Dad straightens his bow tie. “He’s one of Jaxon’s top advisors, and we RSVP’d weeks ago. The three of us are expected to attend.”

My stomach drops like a stone thrown into dark water. “Ican’t go to that. I’m drained from the meeting, and I need to process everything that happened.”

“Livianna Grace Hemings, you absolutely can and will attend this wedding.” Mom’s voice carries a particular note of authority that makes arguing pointless. “Especially considering the bride is wearing a wedding dress designed by you.”

The words steal the breath from my lungs. “She’s wearing one of my designs? How is that possible? I don’t remember designing a wedding dress for anyone named…?”

“Isabella Morrison. Soon to be Isabella Carter.” Dad supplies the name like it should mean something to me. “She ordered it through your online boutique nine months ago. Apparently, she fell in love with your aesthetic and commissioned a custom piece.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember that, but with everything—” My phone buzzes again.

It’s got to be another one of Jax’s latest messages burning through my pocket like a guilty secret. I need to talk to him and hear his voice to feel grounded in something real before I face whatever tonight is going to throw at me.

“I have to make a quick phone call before we leave.” I start to pull my phone out, but Mom’s hand covers mine with gentle firmness.

“There’s no time. The ceremony starts in an hour, and we still need to get you ready.” Her smile is bright and determined, the kind that’s defeated stronger wills than mine. “Whatever call you need to make can wait until after the reception.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I give in to her demands and get ready for a wedding I don’t want to attend.

The drive to the venue passes in a blur of Los Angeles traffic and my parents’ excited chatter about the guest list, the flower arrangements, and how proud they are of my success.

My phone stays silent in my clutch, but I can sense Jax’sunanswered messages like physical weight pressing against my chest.

The wedding venue is a sprawling estate in Beverly Hills, all manicured gardens and twinkling lights that make everything look like a fairy tale designed by someone with unlimited resources and impeccable taste.

Guests drift across the perfectly maintained lawn in evening wear that costs more than most people’s cars. Their laughter mixes with the soft music drifting from hidden speakers.