Chapter 3 Collaborating With Andreas

Aimee descended the staircase with measured steps, her mind already turning over what needed to be done next. At the foot of the stairs, Andreas lifted his hand and gave two crisp claps. Instantly, the quiet was filled with the rhythmic tread of polished shoes against the floor. More than thirty impeccably trained servants filed out from the inner hall, assembling into three straight lines with military precision. At their head stood a woman in her forties, her posture refined, her calm composure reflecting years of discipline. She offered a graceful bow before speaking in a warm yet deferential tone. "Good day, Miss Bennett. I'm the household manager, Vicki Saunders." The chorus of servants behind her rang out in perfect unison. "Hello, Miss Bennett!" Aimee arched a brow, her gaze sliding toward Andreas, silently demanding an explanation. "Mr. Reid, what exactly is all this for?" Andreas' lips lifted in a measured curve, his voice steady but carrying the weight of authority. "If the Bennett family refuses to recognize your worth, I'll make sure the rest of the world does." A quiet tremor ran through her chest at his words. She had only just stepped out of prison, severing every last tie with her family. It wouldn't take long before whispers spread through the upper circles that she'd been abandoned. Once that happened, every vulture in their world would see her as easy prey. But Andreas' move wasn't merely generosity. It was a statement - a bold, deliberate claim that she stood under his protection. "Thank you, Mr. Reid," she murmured softly, lowering her gaze as a ripple of unease flickered beneath her composed expression. She wasn't naïve enough to believe that his kindness came without strings. The respect he gave her was calculated - rooted in what she was worth to him. Still, the arrangement didn't bother her. Compared to the vipers in her own family, Andreas, at least, was a wolf she could see clearly. "And Vicki has been with me for many years," Andreas remarked, his tone cold and final as he adjusted his cufflinks. "You can trust her with anything." With that, he pivoted smoothly on his heel, already walking toward the door. Aimee quickened her pace to catch up with him. "Mr. Reid, regarding our collaboration..." Andreas didn't bother turning around. His low, steady voice brushed against her ear. "No rush. I look forward to seeing what you can do." A deep rumble rolled from the luxury Maybach's engine as the door shut behind him. Within moments, the car swept out of the mansion, leaving Aimee standing at the entrance. She narrowed her eyes slightly, already piecing together the steps she'd need to take next. "Miss Bennett," Vicki said softly, stepping forward with a slight bow. "This was personally prepared by Mr. Reid." Vicki extended a sleek black card toward her. "There's no credit limit. Spend it however you like." Aimee accepted it with a light flicker of amusement curving her lips. Andreas really didn't hold back when he decided to be generous. "You've just gotten out of prison," Vicki added softly, her tone warm and steady. "The bath's drawn and the water's hot. Once you've freshened up, I'll give you a proper tour." With a small nod, Aimee trailed after the waiting servant, her steps echoing lightly against the polished staircase. Steam rose in gentle ribbons from the tub, the floral warmth of rose oil mingling with the soft, sweet scent of aromatherapy that wrapped around her like a quiet embrace. Resting her back against the smooth edge, Aimee let her eyes drift shut, letting the heat seep into her skin as her mind wandered to the plans she'd pieced together over the past month. The moment she was reborn, she had reached out to Andreas. In her previous life - after her death - her spirit had lingered like a shadow, watching Andreas wage brutal business wars against the Bennett family. He'd been merciless to his enemies, but he'd always treated his own with unwavering loyalty. So, she'd placed her bet on him. By reading the market's rhythms, she'd nailed three major shifts and had shown Andreas exactly which positions to take to avoid the worst of the volatility. As payment, he had pulled strings to secure her early release and had placed substantial funds at her disposal. She had promised a tenfold return within ninety days. "Andreas, trust me - this one will more than pay off." Her voice slipped out as a low murmur, a sly smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. Her aim had been twofold: to make the Bennett family pay, and to force them to watch as she climbed to heights they would never reach. After her bath, Aimee slipped into the designer dress Vicki had laid out for her. The fabric hugged her figure just right, and the soft curls framing her face gave her an effortlessly elegant air. Her makeup was flawless - subtle yet refined - transforming her entire presence into something polished and commanding. Vicki's gaze flickered with open admiration. "Miss Bennett, this look suits you perfectly." A faint smile curved Aimee's lips. "Thanks, Vicki. And I need you to do something for me - look into a person named Nicola Gibson." Starting over meant building a new network from the ground up. If she wanted power, she'd need people first. An hour later, she arrived at Vogue Plaza, the glittering heart of high-end fashion. Crystal lights spilled across marble floors as she stepped through the glass doors of the "LUMOS" flagship store. A well-trained sales associate approached with a practiced smile. "Welcome, Miss. What kind of style are you interested in?" Before Aimee could get a word out, a honeyed voice drifted from behind her. "Laurence, this dress is gorgeous!" Her steps faltered, and she slowly pivoted to look. Rylie clung to Laurence's arm, batting her lashes as she gestured toward a dress with a price tag of half a million. Laurence's mouth curved into an indulgent smile. He brushed his fingers through her hair in a practiced, affectionate motion. "Go ahead and try it on," he said lightly. "If you love it, we'll take it." The sales associate shifted nervously, caught between the rules and the customer. "I'm sorry," she said carefully. "This is a limited-edition piece. It can't be tried on." Laurence's expression clouded over, his voice dropping a shade colder. "And what's that supposed to mean? That we can't afford it?" The sales associate rushed to clarify, hands fluttering in front of her. "No, of course not - it's just the store policy." Before the tension could stretch any further, a cold, clear female voice cut through the air. "I'll take it."