Abigail sobered immediately. "Wait a moment. I'm coming right now." She quickly applied light makeup to conceal the dark circles under her eyes, changed into a stylish, light-colored suit perfect for moving around, and went downstairs in her heels.

Suddenly, she saw two familiar figures—Sean and Joan—leaning against each other on the lobby couch. She paused, her prepared smile vanishing, but it was too late to leave.

Sean frowned and jumped up as soon as he saw her. He marched over, grabbed her arm, and pulled her into a corner. "Abigail Quinn, your bravery knows no bounds! You even followed us here!"

Abigail simply pursed her lips, annoyed. Since they were divorcing, she couldn't be bothered to explain herself, even if he misunderstood. She shook off his grip and offered a polite smile. "Mr. Graham, I'm working now. Please watch your actions."

His brows furrowed. "Did I not give you enough money? Do you need to work here as a server?"

Abigail sneered. She'd never hidden her career as a fashion designer. If he'd paid attention, he'd have seen her sketches. But he hadn't loved her, so it wasn't surprising he assumed she was a server.

"We're already divorced," she said. "You don't need to be embarrassed if I'm working as a sales associate. Aren't you worried Miss Palmer will misunderstand?" They'd been secretly married for three years. Joan likely didn't even know her, yet he was having a hushed conversation with her without Joan present.

He grasped the meaning of her words, his face turning cold. "What divorce? What nonsense are you spouting?"

Abigail looked at him. He only cared about Joan that night and hadn't heard a word she'd said. He rarely came "home," so he hadn't seen the divorce papers she'd left. My fault for overlooking that, she thought.

She pulled her hand away, maintaining her composure. "It's okay. The divorce settlement will be sent to your office tomorrow. Remember to sign it!"

Sean had more questions, but Joan approached them from the lobby. She smiled sweetly. "What's wrong, Sean?"

He immediately changed his tone. "Nothing. Why did you come over?"

Joan leaned against him. "You've been here so long, I wanted to see what was going on. Do you know this sales associate?"

He said coldly, "I got the wrong person."

Three years of marriage, and I'm not even a stranger to him? Abigail thought. She wanted to leave, but Joan, holding Sean's arm, approached. "It's fate that you got the wrong person. It seems we're destined to be your customers," Joan said. "Will you please show us the Alana-designed wedding gown?"

Abigail, despite ending her relationship, froze. He's already ready to marry Joan? The gown Joan mentioned was Alana's only design in years, displayed prominently at L.Moon. Its price was astronomical; everyone knew it wasn't for sale. Abigail herself had made every stitch, a promise Sean never intended to keep.

After hesitating, she led them to the gown. As Joan gasped in admiration, Abigail stepped back, her face solemn.

Joan pointed excitedly. "I want this dress!"

Sean nodded. "Sure. Try it on."

A sales associate began to explain that the dress wasn't for sale, but Abigail interrupted. "We're selling it, but the price is high. It's 1.3 million."

Joan hesitated at the price.