817 An Exquisite Trap

Hayley’s POV:

Of course, I kept my thoughts well hidden, maintaining an expression of delight as I reached for the gift box with barely restrained eagerness, practically snatching it from Salazar’s hands and hurriedly lifting the lid.

“My gosh! How exquisite!” I pitched my voice higher in artificial wonder.

For just a second, I caught a fleeting curl of disdain at the corner of Salazar’s mouth.

I knew then. Despite his polished manners and deferential tone, he looked down on me with quiet contempt for being an "Omega."

I finished my performance, then watched him with silent precision.

Salazar recomposed himself, a perfectly rehearsed smile sliding back into place. “It’s truly an honor that you’ve accepted it. Ms. Walton will be thrilled to see you in her chosen gown. It will mean more to her than any other gift.”

I beamed at him with calculated innocence. “Really? That’s wonderful! I was worried she might not like what I chose for her.”

I trailed my fingers over the fabric. “Should I wash it first? It’ll be fresher for tomorrow, right?”

He cleared his throat, the sound laced with barely restrained impatience. “That wouldn’t be necessary, Ms. Sander. Surely someone from the Sanders informed you? Evening gowns are meant to be worn once. Laundering would be… unbecoming.”

“Oh, I see. Sorry, I’m still… adjusting.” I ducked my head in manufactured embarrassment.

“No matter. Simply wear it as intended, and you’ll avoid any unfortunate missteps.” Salazar adjusted his cuffs, then added with the imperious air of a noble addressing a servant, “While you may only be a low-ranking Omega who recently returned to the Sanders, certain expectations really should be prioritized.”

I can’t help but laugh at his words—internally, of course.

The audacity! Even if I were truly an Omega instead of the Alpha I’d always been, I’m still a Sander by blood and a Walton by adoption. Who was he, mere butler of the Bennetts, to lecture me on propriety?

I pushed down the flicker of anger in my chest and smiled politely. “I understand. Thank you, Mr. Bennett.”

Salazar gave a curt nod before taking his leave.

The moment his car vanished beyond the gates, all pretense of wide-eyed innocence melted from my expression.

Cold-faced, I turned on my heel with the gift box in my hands. I can’t help but mentally applaud myself for that impeccable little performance of well-timed idiocy.

At this rate, I might just have a future in Hollywood alongside my Oscar-winning aunt.

Back in my room, I carefully opened the box Celine had supposedly sent.

To Salazar’s credit, he hadn’t been lying. Inside was a full ensemble: the gown, matching heels, and coordinating jewelry. It was clearly prepared to save someone from a last-minute fashion disaster.

Methodically, I inspected every inch. I ran my fingers along every seam, probed every hidden compartment in the box, and even had Hera sniff for traces of tampering. Still, nothing seemed off.

When I finally slipped into the dress, it fit like a second skin, accentuating every curve of my physique.

I raised my brow. Had Celine really dropped the scheming–for once?

After that humiliating defeat at the mall, had she finally grasped that opposing me was futile, thus decided to change tactics and make peace?

I stood in front of the full-length mirror. The reflection staring back was devastating, elegant yet formidable. This dress didn’t just suit me–it elevated my lethal beauty as an Alpha.

I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t perfection. In this, I’d command every room I entered.

But then again… would Celine be that generous?

My smirk turned razor-sharp. Nope. Very unlikely.

Nobody would willingly surrender the spotlight in their own territory.

This had to be a trap. Somewhere in this gift lurked a threat I hadn’t yet uncovered.

I sat on my bed, mind racing. A few silent seconds passed before an idea sparked. If I couldn’t eliminate the danger… maybe I could redirect it.