As Melanie stepped into the showroom of LuxeArt, a meticulously assembled line of employees stood stiffly in welcome. Their postures were textbook-perfect, rigid with discipline, but their expressions told a different story—blank, wary, as if they were bracing for something unpleasant. It reminded her of all those K-dramas where the employees were always waiting for the arrival of their most hated CEO.
At the far end of the line, standing with her arms folded and a smug tilt to her chin, was none other than her dear ex-mother-in-law—Madam Collins. Melanie's steps faltered for just a second as an entirely unrelated yet oddly amusing thought entered her mind.
Technically, Madam Collins was probably still her mother-in-law.
