Chapter 158: Satin Ribbons & Black Cards
It started with orange juice.
Eva sat at the breakfast table, swinging her legs in satin slippers too fine for someone her age, clutching a glass of freshly squeezed Valencia orange juice like it was holy nectar. Maison de Corcelle kitchen was sunlit and unusually quiet — except for the rustle of the society pages, the chime of crystal, and the bubbling anticipation hovering just above the toast rack.
Seraphina entered in a pale cream blouse and fitted navy trousers, her auburn hair pulled into a neat F••••• braid that ended with a tiny satin bow. She looked sophisticated and impossibly composed for a twelve - year - old, but her eyes gleamed with mischief.
"You're overdressed," she teased, eyeing Eva's polished shoes and pearl - buttoned cardigan.
"I'm emotionally prepared," Eva replied, sipping her juice. "You're just jealous you didn't think of the rhinestones."
Seraphina smirked and sat beside her. "Fair. But are you prepared for what's coming?"
Eva blinked. "Shopping in P••••?"
"Unsupervised shopping in P••••," Seraphina corrected.
At that exact moment, Evelyn strode in, looking like a vision in cream silk pajamas and a lazy topknot, her expression far too smug for that early in the morning.
"Well, well," she said, drawing out the syllables like honey. "Look at the little duchesses, ready to break hearts and budgets."
Vivienne followed, already dressed in tailored grey with coffee in hand and the day's agenda in the other. "I don't know who I pity more," she mused aloud. "The chauffeurs or the boutiques."
"I vote boutiques," Evelyn quipped. "They've no idea what's about to hit them."
Briony was last, still yawning and in a fuzzy oversized jumper. She froze when she saw Eva — her hair perfectly brushed, outfit impeccable, and that eager, glitter - eyed look of mischief lighting up her whole face.
"Wait," Briony said slowly. "Did you… did you sleep last night?"
Eva lifted her chin with the gravitas of a royal. "Only for four hours. I was preparing emotionally and economically."
"Oh my god," Briony muttered, flopping into a seat. "She's serious."
Vivienne raised a brow. "She's always serious."
"Not like this," Briony replied, staring at Eva as if she were some mythical creature. "She looks like a Bond villain's child."
Seraphina nodded. "She made me do mock shopping drills last night."
Evelyn burst out laughing. "You didn't."
"She did," Seraphina said solemnly. "There was a spreadsheet involved."
"I wanted to sort by boutique, brand, estimated time per stop, and anticipated emotional reaction," Eva said. "Standard efficiency."
Vivienne pressed a hand to her heart. "That's my girl."
"Stop encouraging her," Briony moaned.
But Eva was glowing. For the first time in what felt like forever, she was getting a day that was hers and Seraphina's alone — no lessons, no adults shadowing them, no pressing mysteries or political tension. Just silk, leather, laughter, and the occasional teas.
And she was more than ready.
As breakfast wound down, Evelyn slid something across the table.
It was an envelope. Black. Heavier than it looked.
Eva opened it and stared.
Inside were three glossy black cards. Her name — Evangeline Claire Ainsley — was embossed in platinum foil. At first glance, they looked like ordinary credit cards… but Seraphina, seated beside her, went utterly still.
"Wait," she breathed. "Those are—"
"Black label. No limit," Vivienne said, sipping her espresso.
"Three?" Seraphina asked, bewildered.
"One for backup, one in case she drops the other backup, and one for emergencies," Evelyn replied. "Don't worry, they're geo - tracked."
Seraphina stared at Eva. "They gave you black cards?"
Eva looked down at them reverently. "They said I'm a big girl now."
"You're seven."
"Emotionally? I'm at least twenty."
Briony leaned in, eyes wide. "You do realize none of them gave me a black card? When I was seven!"
Vivienne looked mildly amused. "That's because you once tried to order a mechanical pony from I•••• using Evelyn's name."
"It was for science!"
Evelyn shrugged. "The pony was cute."
Seraphina tried not to look too impressed. "So what's the budget?"
Eva blinked innocently. "Unlimited."
Briony let out a long, disbelieving whistle. "Well, the F••••• economy just shifted."
As their chauffeur arrived to collect them, Evelyn handed over two silk scarves — Hermès, of course — and tied one around Eva's neck with exaggerated drama. "To protect your honor."
Vivienne added with a grin, "And your credit score."
Briony just leaned down and muttered, "Buy something ridiculous for me. Like, outrageously P•••••••."
Eva winked. "Consider it done."
With a final round of cheek kisses and one last warning from Vivienne — "Don't come back with a zebra or matching tattoos"— the girls stepped into the waiting car.
The doors closed.
The city opened.
The ride into P•••• felt like gliding through a dream.
Rain from the earlier morning had given way to a soft gleam of sunlight, casting golden light on the narrow streets and wrought iron balconies. The city seemed to hum for them, old and elegant and wild with promise.
Seraphina sat with one leg crossed over the other, glancing occasionally at Eva, who had gone silent for once. Her face was pressed to the window, eyes wide.
"You okay?" Seraphina asked.
Eva turned slowly. "I feel like a pearl that just hatched."
Seraphina smiled. "That's not how pearls work."
"It is in my metaphor."
Their first stop was the legendary Galerie Viremont, a private showroom known only to elite clientele. The moment they stepped inside, they were met with subtle perfume, soft lighting, and a team of well - dressed assistants who took one look at Eva's name and turned reverent.
"Welcome, Mademoiselle Ainsley. Welcome, Mademoiselle Langford."
Seraphina blinked. "Wait… you booked the showroom?"
Eva looked smug. "I called ahead."
"Of course you did."
By noon, Eva had tried on six pairs of custom ballet flats, two brocade dresses, and a velvet cape that made her look like a storybook heir. Seraphina, more restrained but no less stylish, chose elegant slacks, a few P••••••• blouses, and a new notebook with gold - gilded pages.
Their helper — a cheerful girl named Lisette — kept saying how well - behaved they were.
"I've never seen girls your age with such taste," she said, adjusting Eva's collar. "And you speak F••••• beautifully."
"Merci," Eva said, barely containing her grin. "We're women of culture."
Seraphina added, "We're also women of sugar crashes. Can we get macarons soon?"
They stopped at Ladurée for tea and sweets. Eva eagerly picked pistachio, rose, and caramel fleur de sel macarons, her eyes wide with excitement. Seraphina, more composed, ordered a pot of Earl Grey and a lemon macaron.
Halfway through their treats, Seraphina leaned forward.
"Is this what it's like?"
"What?" Eva asked, mouth full.
"Having days like this. That are yours. Not borrowed or managed or supervised."
Eva considered. "I don't think I've ever had one before. Not like this."
Seraphina nodded. "Me neither."
They clinked macarons like champagne glasses.
"To firsts," Eva said.
"To us," Seraphina replied.
They spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Marais boutiques and a perfumery where Eva nearly cried at a scent that reminded her of midnight rain. Seraphina picked a cologne with notes of bergamot and ashwood, which Eva declared "very serious and very you."
At one quiet corner shop, they found matching silk pajamas with tiny embroidered constellations.
Eva ran her hand over the fabric and murmured, "Let's never forget this day."
Seraphina reached over, squeezing her pinky. "Sempiternus."
By the time they returned to the estate, the sun had dipped below the hills and golden light stretched across the lawns like a final bow.
They came home in a flurry of shopping bags, perfume ribbons, and sleepier smiles than either would admit. The staff quietly took their parcels. The house was warm with music and evening light.
Evelyn met them in the foyer, eyes sweeping their exhausted faces.
"Well?" she asked. "Did P•••• survive?"
Eva nodded solemnly. "Barely."
Vivienne arrived with a raised brow. "Did you bring anything obscene?"
"Only in price," Seraphina said.
Eva added, "And taste. Briony's request."
Briony burst in then, eyes wide. "You got me something?"
Eva held up a tiny, pearl - encrusted miniature handbag with the Eiffel Tower dangling off the zipper.
Briony gasped. "It's hideous. I love it."
They all laughed.
Later that night, as the house wound down, Seraphina found Eva asleep on her own bed for once — surrounded by silk tissue paper, a bag of pastel macarons tucked beside her pillow, and one of the black cards on her nightstand.
Seraphina quietly took the card and slid it back into its velvet pouch, then kissed her forehead.
"Let's do it again sometime," she whispered.
Eva stirred but didn't wake.
Outside, P•••• slept, dreaming of little queens in satin shoes.