Annabelle's businesses in the capital grew quickly. Jewelry, glassware, furniture—all inspired by modern designs, but crafted using the empire's rarest materials. With Ethan unknowingly introducing her to the right people, she built an entirely separate identity under the name Belle Arden.
Of course, she kept it a secret from her family.
Because if they knew, they would either:
Freak out.
Try to stop her.
Laugh at her. (Nicholas, she was looking at you.)
Everything was going perfectly. Until—
She accidentally ran into her mother.
As a tailor's apprentice.
Annabelle had been working with a high-end tailor in the capital, designing dresses and accessories under a false identity. On that fateful day, she had been dressed in a plain work gown, a measuring tape around her neck, a pencil tucked behind her ear, when—
"Excuse me, miss, can you adjust the waistline on this design?"
Annabelle turned around—
And saw her mother, Paula Dorne, standing there, looking at her.
The world froze.
For a moment, they just stared at each other. Annabelle's brain shut down.
Then, Paula's lips pursed. "...Annabelle?"
Annabelle dropped her measuring tape like it had personally betrayed her.
"Mother."
A long silence stretched between them.
Then, in the gentlest, most motherly voice, Paula asked—
"What. Are. You. Doing?"
Annabelle thought fast. She had to lie. Cover this up.
"Um—"
"I knew it!" A new voice cut in. The tailor, completely oblivious to the situation, beamed at Paula. "Your daughter is an absolute genius! She designed the latest gown for Lady Voss herself!"
Annabelle's soul left her body.
Paula raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Annabelle panicked. "It's—it's not what it looks like—"
"Oh?" Paula crossed her arms. "So you haven't been secretly running a business in the capital?"
Annabelle opened her mouth—then closed it.
She was so doomed.
And then, as if the gods wanted to humiliate her further—
Her father walked in.
Jake Dorne, the terrifying head of the family, the man with reality-warping powers that could strike fear into anyone—
Was standing in a carpenter's shop.
Because apparently, he had been running an errand.
Annabelle watched in horror as he casually examined a wooden cabinet, completely unaware that his daughter was two steps away, dressed as a tailor's assistant.
She grabbed Paula's arm. "Mother, please, don't tell—"
"Oh, I won't tell him." Paula smiled sweetly. "You will."
Annabelle wanted to cry.
But it got worse.
Because the moment she turned back around—
Nicholas was standing in the doorway.
Grinning.
"...Annabelle?"
She groaned. Not him. Anyone but him.
Nicholas took one look at the situation—his noble, elegant little sister standing in a tailor's shop, looking like a peasant—and burst out laughing.
"OH, THIS IS GOLD." He doubled over, wheezing. "What is this?! Why are you dressed like that?! Are we poor? Did Father gamble away the estate?! Mother, what happened?!"
Annabelle smacked him with a measuring tape. "Shut up."
Nicholas, still gasping for breath, turned to their father. "Dad! You won't believe this! Annabelle is—"
"—about to die," she muttered under her breath.
But Jake Dorne simply turned, taking in the scene, before saying in a deadpan voice—
"Oh. So this is why our household budget didn't make sense."
Annabelle felt her soul physically leave her body.
Isaac, the responsible eldest brother, finally arrived, rubbing his temples. "What is going on here—?"
And that was it.
She was caught.
Her entire family had found out.
Nicholas was still laughing, Paula looked like she was proud and disappointed at the same time, Jake was staring at her like she was an unsolved mystery, and Ethan—sweet, oblivious Ethan—had just walked in, holding a bag of artifacts.
"Oh," he said. "What's happening?"
Annabelle buried her face in her hands.
She had survived transmigrating into a novel.
She had survived building an underground network of contacts.
But she would not survive this level of embarrassment.