Chapter 1: Are You Stunned To See Me, Dear Ex-Husband?

GWEN's POV

Five years later...

"Welcome to the Summerbell Villa, Madame Gwen."

The wheels of the black SUV rolled to a stop in front of the grand estate, its towering iron gates parting to welcome me home after a few years ago.

I let out a quiet breath as I glanced at my daughter, Kira, seated beside me. She was clutching her small stuffed bunny, her big brown eyes, peering out the window in awe.

"Mommy," she whispered, her tiny voice filled with wonder. "Where are we?"

I turned to her with a soft smile. "This is where we'll be living from now on, sweetheart. This is your grandfather's house."

Kira's brows furrowed. "Are we staying here for good?"

I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing my expression to remain steady. "Yes, baby. This was his home before we moved to London."

She was silent for a moment, her small fingers tightening around her stuffed toy. Then, she looked up at me with an innocent curiosity that made my heart ache.

"Will I get to meet my daddy now?"

My breath hitched.

The question hung in the air like a blade over my heart. I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

How could I possibly answer that?

How could I tell her the truth, that her father, Lucas Grayford, the man I once loved with every fiber of my being, had cast me aside like I was nothing?

That he had walked away from me five years ago without ever looking back?

Before I could find the right words, Jenny my personal assistant appeared.

"Miss Summerbell," Jenny, greeted, stepping out of the mansion's entrance. She was impeccably dressed as always, her sleek ponytail swaying as she approached. "Welcome back."

Relief flooded through me at the perfectly timed interruption. "Jenny," I said, offering a grateful smile. "Good to see you."

I turned to my daughter, brushing a few strands of her dark curls behind her ear. "Kira, sweetheart, why don't you go with Auntie Emily? I have some work to do, but I'll come to your room later, okay?"

Kira pouted for a moment but eventually nodded. "Okay, Mommy."

I kissed her forehead and watched as Auntie Emily, the head housekeeper took her tiny hand, leading her inside.

The moment they disappeared through the grand double doors, I let out a shaky breath and pressed my fingers against my temple.

"Jenny," I called as I followed them into the house. She turned to me expectantly. "Cancel all my appointments for today."

Jenny's brows lifted in surprise. "Are you sure?"

I exhaled slowly. "Actually... no. Don't cancel anything. I think I could start working today."

Jenny nodded. "Understood, Miss. Your first meeting today is with a potential investor."

I straightened. "Investor?"

"Yes. Mr. Damon Huxley. He was originally supposed to meet with your father, but now that he's gone, you'll be handling the negotiation."

A pang of sadness struck me, but I quickly composed myself. My father had built Jim Summerbell, his fashion empire, from the ground up, and now it was in my hands.

I had no choice but to carry on his legacy.

I nodded. "I know. But let's not talk about my father, Jenny." The wound was still too fresh. I wasn't ready to talk about it, not yet.

Jenny smiled gently. "I apologize, Miss Gwen. Shall we head out?"

With a deep breath, I straightened my shoulders. "Let's go."

***

The meeting at the cafe went smoother than I had expected. Damon Huxley was sharp, professional, and straightforward. Qualities I admired in a business partner. Despite my nerves, I managed to handle the negotiation well, securing our first investor under my leadership.

Thanks for shaping me into a better person, Dad. I owe you my life.

As Jenny and I walked back to the car, she beamed at me. "That was impressive, Miss Gwen. Your father would be proud."

I let out a small, relieved laugh. "I was nervous the whole time."

"You hid it well," she assured me. "Congratulations."

As we settled into the car, I glanced at her. "What's next on my schedule?"

Jenny hesitated.

"What?" I pressed.

"Well..." she trailed off. "Your next appointment was canceled because tonight is Miss Jersey's party."

My eyes widened. "Jersey's birthday is today?!"

Jenny sighed dramatically and chuckled. "I knew you forgot."

I groaned, rubbing my temples. "I thought it was next week!"

"Well, it's tonight," Jenny confirmed. "So, what's the plan?"

I let out a resigned breath. "Contact Paulo. Tell him to bring the most extravagant gown I can wear."

Jenny grinned. "Got it."

As she pulled out her phone to make the call, I leaned back in my seat, staring out the window at the Chicago skyline. Five years ago, I had been cast out, and abandoned by the people I trusted most.

When I came back to the house, Paulo was already waiting for me in the living room.

"There she is! My lady of the hour!"

Paulo, my father's head designer, stood beside the couch waiting for me. Beside him sat a large black box, decorated with a silk ribbon, teasing at the masterpiece within.

I let out a small laugh. "Paulo, it's been too long."

He rushed over, grasping my hands with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Too long indeed, gorgeous! Look at you! You returned looking like an absolute queen." He took a step back, dramatically placing a hand over his heart. "Your father would be so proud."

A lump formed in my throat, but I managed a soft smile. "I hope so."

Paulo's expression softened for a brief moment before he gestured toward the box. "Now, enough of this sentimentality. You, my dear, have an important event to attend, and I simply refuse to let you show up in anything less than perfection."

Curious, I approached as he untied the ribbon and lifted the lid. The moment the fabric was revealed, my breath hitched.

A gown unlike anything I had ever seen.

The dress shimmered under the light, made of delicate champagne-colored silk, embroidered with intricate floral patterns in silver and gold. Tiny crystals were woven into the design, catching the light with every movement.

"Paulo..." I breathed. "This is—"

"The limited-edition piece from our Spring Collection," he interrupted, his eyes gleaming with pride. "Your father personally oversaw its final touches before..." His voice faltered for a moment, but he quickly composed himself. "This dress is a proclamation, Gwen. A reminder to the world that you're back, stronger than ever."

I ran my fingers along the intricate embroidery, feeling the weight of it, not just the fabric, but the meaning behind it.

"Thank you, Paulo. I owe you a lot," I replied and smiled.

After years of hiding, I was finally stepping back into the world.

I arrived at the Smith mansion around 6:50 in the evening. Everywhere I turned, guests in designer attire mingled, their voices blending into a low hum of conversation and gossip.

The moment I stepped inside, a hush fell over the crowd. All eyes turned to me.

I felt their gazes, curious, admiring, envious. People began murmuring, their whispers threading through the air like invisible tendrils.

"Is that Gwen Summerbell?"

"She looks even more stunning than before."

"Didn't she disappear after her father took her to London?"

I ignored them, keeping my head high. Then, amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces, a familiar one emerged.

"Gwen!"

Jersey, the birthday girl herself, rushed toward me, her arms outstretched. She was as radiant as ever in a stunning deep-red gown, her dark curls styled to perfection.

I smiled as she pulled me into a warm embrace.

"You're here!" she said excitedly, pulling back to examine me. "And damn! You look like a goddess."

I chuckled. "I wouldn't miss your birthday for anything."

Jersey's expression softened. "How are you holding up? With everything that's happened..."

I forced a reassuring smile. "I'm managing."

She studied me for a moment before nodding. "I won't keep you. Go enjoy yourself, and we'll catch up later, okay?"

"Go be the birthday queen," I teased.

She laughed and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me alone once more.

I exhaled, scanning the room for a quiet corner where I could breathe. But before I could take another step, a familiar voice stopped me.

A voice I hadn't heard in five years.

"Gwen? Is that you?"

I froze.

A slow, dreadful chill crept up my spine, my fingers curling into fists at my sides.

I knew that voice. I turned, and there he was.

Lucas Grayford. My ex-husband.