The Billionaire Ex-Wife and the Beggar He Became novel Chapter 93

All eyes in the room had turned, wide and unblinking, as Winona entered, and Yves Prescott couldn't help but let a small smile play at the corner of his lips.

Winona always had impeccable taste.

To be fair, she could make anything look good—she had the kind of figure that transformed even the simplest outfit into something striking.

He hadn't noticed her beauty the first few times they met. Back then, he'd seen her tangled up in that mess with Julian and assumed she was plain, perhaps even unpleasant to look at.

Especially that day after the car accident—her clothes on backwards, skin sallow, dark circles under her eyes. She'd looked a wreck, no two ways about it.

Thinking back, something terrible must have happened to her that day. No one would otherwise let themselves go like that.

But tonight was different.

Winona had chosen a crisp black-and-white ensemble: a tailored black blazer paired with flowing white trousers and simple black flats. Before leaving, she'd let the boutique stylist pull her hair back into a sleek, low ponytail that grazed her back.

The effect was sharp, clean, and quietly powerful.

She looked polished and self-assured, the picture of understated maturity.

All she wore by way of makeup was a touch of lipstick—and when she slipped off her black-rimmed glasses, her face seemed to light up: fresh, striking, beautiful, with a calm, effortless grace.

Yves Prescott noticed something almost androgynous about her appeal—an elegant bearing that none of the other women in the room possessed.

Not even Felicity.

For the longest time, he'd thought Felicity was the epitome of confidence and vibrancy, a woman who radiated life.

But now, seeing Winona, he realized there was a deeper, more compelling energy to her beauty—something raw and genuine that seemed to cut right through the surface.

In the ten minutes they'd spent picking out dresses and helping her three tagalongs with their own outfits, he hadn't had a chance to ask her much else.

Helga was dressed in an elegant white dress, mid-heeled pumps, and a bright red silk scarf tied at her neck—a look that was both dignified and festive.

Zane, holding hands in the middle, wore black suspenders over a crisp white shirt, topped off with a stylish newsboy cap. He looked both mischievous and every inch the little gentleman.

Mia had her hair swept up in a high bun, accentuating her petite frame, and wore a classic black dress that fell just below the knees, a lustrous string of pearls at her neck. She looked fresh, poised, and quietly sophisticated.

The four of them—dressed in coordinated black and white—were a striking contrast to their earlier, garish get-ups of clashing reds and greens.

The monochrome look had been Winona's idea—a subtle, pointed jab at Julian's former grandmother-in-law, and a deliberate provocation to his current one.

Their entrance made a statement, turning heads everywhere and, as intended, infuriating the present Mrs. Shepherd.

As soon as she spotted them, Mrs. Shepherd clutched her chest and pointed an accusing finger. "Are they here to celebrate my birthday or mourn at a funeral? Julian, my dear grandson, get these wretched people out of here! Out, right now!"

Her shrill voice sent a ripple of shocked whispers through the crowd.