The morning sun cast a gentle glow through the immaculate glass storefront of the bakery. The air was thick with the scent of freshly baked vanilla croissants and rare white lilies—the exact blooms Diana had aggressively sent over by the truckload.

Miya stood behind the marble counter, her short black hair styled back into neat waves. Her elite assassin coolness was currently buried under a massive layer of high-society panic. She was wearing her pristine baker’s apron, but her sharp eyes were frantically fixed on her work tablet, reviewing the decrypted files Felix had pulled from The Phantom Alchemist’s silver flash drive.

RING. RING.

The bakery’s high-end corporate glass-paneled telephone chimed musically. Miya automatically swiped it open, dropping into her polite, elegant artisan baker cover voice.

"Good morning. Thank you for calling Le Chic Artisan, how may I help your palate today—"

"Miya... my beautiful, courageous artisan angel... thank heavens you answered!"

Miya’s entire body instantly went rigid as a violent, bright crimson blush rushed up her neck, turning her cheeks and the tips of her ears a deep, helpless red. She nearly dropped her pastry scraper directly into the flour bin.

"M-Ms. Destiano?!" Miya stammered in a high-pitched, completely flustered panic. "Oh! Good morning! I—I hope you recovered from the... the security breach at the gala last night! It must have been highly administrative for your design crew!"

"Erase the corporate formalities, darling! I haven't slept a single wink," Diana's commanding voice hummed through the line. "The moment that majestic, lethal black panther dropped from the ceiling vents in a sleek stealth suit to shatter those terrorists' jaws... my soul was permanently rearranged. I know it was you, Miya. You cannot hide that fiercely protective family aura from a fashion mogul's eyes!"

Miya frantically pinched the bridge of her nose, her heart doing a chaotic, love-struck backflip as she sweated in pure cover-operation terror. "Ms. Destiano, I swear you are completely mistaken! I am just a simple baker! I don't drop from ceilings or handle tactical batons, I handle sourdough starter!"

"Your modesty is a visual masterpiece, but I am already completely whipped," Diana smoothly cut her off. "And because your family is clearly running a highly dangerous, beautifully tragic underground operation to escape your past, I have just made an executive decision. The Destiano Fashion Group is officially launching a secret, multi-million-euro capsule line called 'The Shadow Artisan'—and I am personally arriving at your bakery in ten minutes with my elite fabric team to measure your shoulder alignment for a custom crimson evening gown!"

"W-Wait! Measurement?! A crimson gown?! Ms. Destiano, please—!"

CLICK.

The line went dead. Miya stared at the receiver in absolute, flustered defeat, her face burning hot as she realized the fierce, terrifying fashion matriarch was currently racing down the avenue to aggressively use high fashion to court her!

Felix stepped out of his bedroom, looking effortlessly beautiful, cute, and beautifully sexy. His shaggy, texturized black undercut wolf-cut hair was a messy, adorable bedhead, framing his pale face. He wore an oversized, chunky pastel-purple cable-knit sweater that hung completely off his left shoulder, beautifully exposing his flawless collarbone and highlighting that seductive beauty mark resting right at the center of his throat, paired with casual white linen shorts.

He popped a strawberry bubblegum bubble with a loud POP, leaning against the marble partition with a deadpan, comically blunt little giggle as he watched his tough older sister frantically pacing the floor in her cartoon-croissant pajamas, clutching a rolling pin like a shield.

"Wow, Miya," Felix giggled cutely, pouting his rosy lips with a beautifully sexy smirk. "First you dropped from the ceiling loop like a ninja panther, and now your billionaire fashion girlfriend is invading our bakery with measuring tapes. Gosh, this family really is an absolute high-society drama club. Are you going to bake her a cake, or are you going to let her put you in a dress?"

"Shut up, Velvet!" Miya glared at him fiercely, her face still burning bright red. "This is an absolute operational crisis! She’s going to compromise our entire satellite tracking grid if she keeps sending white lilies to the counter! Go get into your hypercar and get to campus before I use this rolling pin on your wolf-cut!"

Felix laughed, grabbing his new matte-black car keys and spinning them on his finger, completely, sassily oblivious to the fact that his sister’s new high-fashion romance was about to drive the Destiano estate into a state of total, absolute chaos!

Diana Destiano glided inside, looking breathtakingly majestic in an ivory-white designer pantsuit, her long platinum-blonde hair catching the shop's light flawlessly. The moment she locked her sharp eyes onto Miya—who was currently trapped behind the flour counter in her cartoon-croissant pajamas—Diana’s cold mogul mask completely broke into a meltingly soft, deeply lovesick smile.

"M-Ms. Destiano!" Miya panicked, backing straight into a metal display shelf, her face flushing a violent crimson. "Please, my customers—"

"Clear the store," Diana commanded her team, her eyes watery and star-struck as she stepped right into Miya's personal space, pulling out a silk measuring tape. "Miya, your posture in these pajamas is an absolute masterpiece. Hold still, darling. I need to measure your waist alignment immediately."

Diana leaned deep over the marble counter, her hands gently wrapping the tape around Miya's midsection. The hyper-focused fashion queen was standing so incredibly close that Miya could smell her premium expensive perfume. Miya’s assassin reflexes entirely short-circuited under the intense visual dominance, her hands trembling against the flour counter.

"Actually... the capsule line was just an executive excuse," Diana suddenly whispered, her voice dropping into an incredibly clumsy, flustered, and dazed tone as a deep pink blush rushed onto her own cheeks. "The truth is... I didn't come here just to measure fabric. I came to ask you out on an official romantic date tonight, Miya. I have pre-booked a private balcony overlooking the city skyline... Please say yes."

Miya blinked, her jaw slightly slacking behind the counter. Looking at this powerful, globally famous 5'10" fashion matriarch clumsily blushing and stuttering like a nervous schoolgirl just to ask for a date, Miya’s tough Alpha heart completely melted into a puddle of helpless mush.

"I... I would be honored, Ms. Destiano," Miya murmured smoothly, her deep blush matching Diana's perfectly.

By midnight, the date had escalated into a whirlwind of overwhelming, dizzying emotion. After a private, ultra-exclusive dinner on a high-society rooftop balcony where Diana clumsily spent the entire evening confessing how completely whipped she was by Miya's ceiling-panther rescue, they walked down a quiet, dimly lit corridor toward the luxury transport.

The emotional tension between them was thick enough to break. Diana stopped near a towering glass window, her long platinum hair glowing under the moonlight. She turned to face Miya, her sharp Alpha eyes heavily watery and shimmering with deep, genuine adoration.

"Miya... I have never met anyone as beautifully dangerous as you," Diana whispered, her voice trembling slightly.

Before Diana could finish her sentence, Miya stepped forward, completely caught up in the raw, burning emotion of the night. She firmly gripped Diana’s elegant waist, pulling the tall fashion mogul flush against her chest, and pressed a passionate, fiercely deep kiss right onto Diana’s soft lips.

SMOOCH.

Diana’s eyes went completely wide before fluttering shut, her hands desperately clutching Miya’s jacket as an absolute electric shock shot straight through her soul. They melted into the kiss, the high-fashion world completely fading away around them as their hearts hammered in perfect unison.

When they finally broke apart, both women were breathing heavily, their faces a synchronized shade of bright, burning crimson. The midnight air had turned chilly, and a sudden downpour of rain began to rattle against the glass windows.

"It's... it's entirely too late to drive back to the bakery," Diana whispered, her voice completely soft, flustered, and love-struck as she clutched her chest. "There is an ultra-luxury five-star boutique hotel directly across this block. I have an executive master suite permanently reserved under my name. We should... check inside for the night, darling."

A short while later, the heavy double doors of the penthouse hotel suite clicked shut, locking out the sound of the rain. The room was illuminated by a soft amber glow, casting long shadows across the velvet sheets.

Diana turned around to face her date, her supermodel frame looking majestic but her expression still deeply blushing and shy. "I shall instruct the concierge to bring up some fresh silk robes for us, Miya. I know as an Omega, you must be exhausted after—"

Miya smoothly stepped forward into the amber light, a wicked, lethal, and devastatingly sexy smirk slicing across her sharp lips. She didn't look like a delicate baker boy's older sister anymore; her posture was radiating an overwhelming, suffocating, and incredibly powerful dominant Alpha energy that completely filled the entire room.

"There's just one tiny detail you should know before we get comfortable, Ms. Destiano," Miya murmured smoothly, her voice dropping into a deep, velvety, and commanding tone that made Diana’s breath instantly catch dead in her throat. Miya’s cheeks were still burning a beautiful, bright pink, but her eyes flashed with pure, unadulterated dominance. "I am not an Omega. I am also a dominant Alpha... and tonight, I intend to take full charge of our alignment."

Diana’s jaw completely dropped to the floor, her face turning a catastrophic shade of burning, radiant crimson from her neck to the tips of her ears as her inner Alpha completely collapsed to its knees in front of her dream girl!