To celebrate my daughter entering Parsons School of Design, I had ordered her dream car—a custom Ferrari in ice-white with rose-gold accents. But when I arrived at the dealership to pick it up, they told me my wife had already taken it. I pulled out my phone and there it was: My wife's assistant Gavin's Instagram story. The photo showed my custom Ferrari, gleaming in front of his townhouse. Caption: "So grateful to my daughter's godmother for this incredible graduation gift. Bella is over the moon!" Victoria had commented underneath: "Seeing you two so happy is all that matters to me." I laughed—a bitter, cold laugh. What a masterclass in taking credit for someone else's gift. I took a screenshot and posted it to my own Instagram: "New policy in my wife's company: Any employee whose child gets into college, comment and Mrs. Swan will gift them a Ferrari." The second I hit "post," Victoria's call came through. I thought—hoped, even—that she'd apologize. Return the car. Let this blow over. Instead, she was angry. "Ethan, are you trying to embarrass me?" "It's just a car. Buy Lily another one and move on." "I don't have time for this. I'm in the middle of a board meeting. Delete the post. Now." She hung up before I could say a word. I stared at the phone in disbelief. She had no intention of returning the car. What kind of mother gives her own daughter's gift to someone else's child? I was still standing there, chest tight with frustration, when I heard light footsteps on the stairs. "Dad! We should get going—I need to pick up my dress for the gala!" Lily's eyes were bright with excitement. She'd spent weeks designing that gown herself, pouring her heart into every sketch, every stitch. It meant everything to her. I looked at her eager face and swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. "Let's go see what my little designer created," I said, forcing a smile. I couldn't let Victoria's cruelty ruin this moment for her. The car could wait. I'd figure something out. On the drive over, Lily chattered nonstop about how she'd pose in the Ferrari once it arrived, wearing the dress she designed. I wanted to tell her. I tried, multiple times. But every time I opened my mouth, I saw that hopeful look in her eyes and the words died in my throat. We parked in front of the atelier. And there it was. The custom Ferrari—Lily's Ferrari—parked in the most prominent spot outside the boutique. "Wow, Dad, look at that!" Lily pointed, her face lighting up. "It's so cool. I can't wait until mine gets here." My throat tightened. I couldn't speak. That is yours, I wanted to say. Your mother gave it away. "Yeah... pretty cool," I managed. "Come on. Let's get your dress." But the moment we stepped inside, we both froze. Victoria was there. So was Gavin—her assistant—and his daughter Bella. The three of them were clustered around one of the shop attendants, and the atmosphere was tense. Bella was pointing at something behind the glass display case. At Lily's dress. "I want that one," Bella whined, tugging on Victoria's arm. "It's a hundred times prettier than anything else here. Aunt Swan, I need it." Victoria smiled indulgently, turning to the attendant with a look of casual entitlement. "You see how much she loves it. Let's work something out. Money isn't an issue." She said it so casually, as if she were buying a handbag off the rack—not trying to buy someone else's custom-designed couture gown. Gavin chimed in immediately, his voice dripping with false politeness. "Exactly. Ms. Swan has been more than generous. I'm sure we can come to an arrangement. My daughter adores this piece. We're happy to compensate the original client—double, even. For the Swan Group, money is hardly a concern." The attendant—Claire—looked like she wanted to disappear. She was sweating, clearly caught between a major client and a breach of contract. "Mrs. Swan, I'm so sorry, but this gown... it's not part of our ready-to-wear collection. It was designed entirely by a client and commissioned exclusively for her. It's one-of-a-kind. The contract explicitly states that ownership is non-transferable. We legally cannot—" "Non-transferable?" Bella cut her off with a huff. "It's just a dress. Who cares who designed it? I want it, and Aunt Swan said I could have whatever I want." She reached for the display case. "Don't touch that." My voice cut through the room like a blade.
Everyone froze. Bella's hand hovered in mid-air. Slowly, I turned my gaze to Victoria. "Victoria. That dress was designed by our daughter. She spent a month working on it. Every detail. Every line. And you want to take it away from her… for his kid?" Victoria's face flushed. For a moment, she looked almost embarrassed. Then her expression hardened. "Ethan, stop making a scene," she hissed. "It's a dress. Bella loves it. Lily can design another one—or pick something else from the boutique. She's talented. It won't take her long. Why are you being so difficult?" Lily's eyes filled with tears. She stared at her mother in disbelief. "Being… understanding?" I repeated slowly, my voice dangerously quiet. "You think being understanding means giving away everything that's hers?" Victoria opened her mouth, but no words came out. For once, she seemed to realize how insane she sounded. Gavin stepped forward with an oily smile. "Mr. Hawthorne, please. Let's not escalate this. It's my fault—I didn't raise Bella properly. She's just a kid. She doesn't understand." He turned to Bella with a theatrical sigh. "Bella, apologize to Uncle Ethan and Lily right now. You can't just take something that someone else designed. That's their hard work. Do we really deserve to wear something so special?" It was a performance. Every word was carefully chosen to paint us as the unreasonable ones. As bullies. Bella caught on immediately. Her face crumpled. Tears welled up in her eyes on cue. "I'm sorry, Lily," she whimpered. "I didn't know you designed it. I just thought it was so pretty… Aunt Swan always says I can tell her what I like. I didn't mean to…" She sniffled dramatically. "I know I'm just… nobody. My family isn't like yours. I should know my place. I'm so sorry. I'll never ask for anything pretty again…" She dissolved into sobs. I had to hand it to them—they were good. Father and daughter, working in perfect tandem. One playing the villain, the other the victim. Victoria's face darkened. She glanced at Bella, who was now crying into her hands. She looked around the boutique, eyes landing on the most expensive gown in the gallery—a showpiece, price tag in the six figures. "Wrap that one," she said coldly, pointing. "For Miss Bella." Claire blinked. "Mrs. Swan, that's our signature piece. It's—" "I know what it is," Victoria interrupted. "How much to have it altered to Bella's measurements within three days?" Claire hesitated. "The alterations alone would be—" "I'll pay an extra hundred thousand for the rush order," Victoria said flatly, pulling out her black card. "Just get it done." "A hundred thousand?!" Even Claire couldn't hide her shock. Gavin's face lit up like Christmas morning. He practically bowed. "Mrs. Swan, you're too kind. This is far too generous—" "It's nothing," Victoria said coolly, signing the receipt. She turned to Bella, her expression softening. "You like it, sweetheart?" Bella's tears vanished instantly. She threw her arms around Victoria. "Thank you, Aunt Swan! You're the best! I knew you loved me the most!" Victoria smiled and patted her hand. "Of course I do. If you love it, that's all that matters." She swiped her card, grabbed her receipt, and walked toward the exit. She didn't look at Lily. Not even once. Outside, I watched through the glass as they climbed into the Ferrari—Lily's Ferrari. Gavin opened the passenger door for Victoria. Bella bounced into the back seat, grinning like she'd won the lottery. The engine roared to life, and they drove away. Lily stood beside me, holding the garment bag with her dress inside. She stared at the taillights disappearing down the street. Her voice was small. Fragile. "Dad… I don't think I like that car anymore." I looked down at her and smiled. "Then we'll get you a better one. Something cooler. I promise you'll have it before the gala." She nodded quietly, but her eyes were still wet. I pulled every string I had. Called in favors. Paid triple for an emergency shipment. By the night of Lily's gala, I had a brand-new Lamborghini Urus in frost pink delivered to the house—keys in hand, title in Lily's name. Her face lit up when she saw it. For a moment, the hurt was gone. "Dad… this is insane." "You deserve it, Lily. And a whole lot more."
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