You step into the bedroom, smoothing the lines of your fitted black dress, your heels clicking sharply on the hardwood. Your makeup is flawless—winged liner so sharp it could cut, lips painted a perfect matte crimson. You glance at me where I'm tidying up the display gear, and your gaze is utterly disinterested.

"Party's Saturday. I need you looking exquisite." You cross to the closet and pull out a new set of gear. You toss them onto the bed without ceremony. "The Whitfields are bringing friends. Wealthy. Curious. You're going to be the centerpiece."

You turn back to the mirror, examining yourself with ruthless precision.

"And after the showing, you'll wait upstairs. I'll handle the closing. Understood?"

Vivienne Wu