Chapter 546 Press and Hold to Save Yvette's Photo
Albert's phone remained on vibrate during meetings—a habit to ensure he never missed important calls or messages. When he casually opened the stylist's message, he was utterly unprepared for what appeared on his screen.
His gaze froze, instantly darkening with intensity.
The photograph showed Yvette in a silver halter gown, her back to the camera. She stood with natural elegance, head slightly bowed as she adjusted the pleats at her chest. The dress clung to her figure, accentuating every curve of her silhouette. The halter design elongated her neck, creating a striking contrast with the shimmering silver fabric. Her bare shoulders looked both elegant and sensual.
Under the lights, the silver gown gleamed brilliantly, while the crisscrossing straps across her back made her skin appear luminous.
Admiration flashed in Albert's eyes.
The executive standing beside him, already nervous and avoiding Albert's gaze, naturally glanced downward—directly at Albert's phone screen. Before he could make out what was displayed, Albert flipped the phone face-down on the table and shot him a piercing look.
The already anxious executive tensed further, opening his mouth to explain but finding himself speechless.
Albert's suddenly razor-sharp demeanor made everyone in the boardroom hold their breath for the poor executive. But just when everyone expected him to lash out, Albert merely clasped his hands together, the phone firmly in his grip, and said in a measured tone, "I asked you a question."
The executive startled back to attention, remembering Albert's earlier inquiry. He nodded quickly. "I did speak with their representative, but he claimed Mr. Stevens, their CEO, hadn't briefed him. He suggested I contact Mr. Stevens directly."
Vincent sighed imperceptibly, amazed that such an incompetent executive had risen so high—clearly a benefit of working for the Valdemar name.
One of Albert's cousins interjected, "Tell him to come speak with Mr. Valdemar himself. See if he still gives you trouble then!"
The executive remained silent, cautiously glancing at Albert for approval.
"Issues this simple shouldn't be brought to meetings. It wastes time," Albert said with a cold sweep of his eyes. "Continue without me. I need to make a call."
Everyone nodded, surreptitiously watching as Albert left the boardroom.
As soon as the door closed, the tension visibly dissipated.
The executive still looked confused. "Can I really do that? Using Mr. Valdemar as leverage seems—"
"Albert just gave you permission. What are you worried about?" Albert's cousin glanced at the closed door with a knowing smile. "With Yvette back, Albert's in a good mood. If you have any risky moves to make, now's the time."
"Why's that?"
"When a king issues a royal pardon, even criminals go free, don't they?"
Understanding dawned on their faces as they gave him thumbs up in agreement.
BoBo and CiCi arrived at the dressing room hand in hand, peeking in curiously.
Seeing the children approach, Yvette turned to face them confidently, displaying the gown while her eyes betrayed a girlish shyness. "What do you think? Is the dress CiCi picked for me beautiful?"
BoBo, typically more composed than most children his age, showed a rare moment of bashfulness. "Mom, it's beautiful."
"Really?" Yvette smiled warmly at them.
CiCi nodded emphatically. "Yes, Mom, it's really beautiful! When I grow up, I want to wear dresses just as pretty!"
Yvette sighed inwardly, wondering who CiCi took after with her perpetual fascination for dresses and looking pretty.
BoBo kept his gaze fixed on Yvette, his eyes never wavering.
Seeing the children's enthusiasm, the stylist grew excited. "Mrs. Valdemar, see how much the children love this gown? It truly suits you perfectly."
Yvette opened her mouth to respond, but the stylist's phone suddenly rang.
Seeing "Mr. Valdemar" on her caller ID, the stylist felt a jolt of alarm. She typically communicated with Vincent, only sending photos like these directly to Albert.
Her heart raced. Had he called to reprimand her for photographing such a revealing dress?
She nervously gripped her phone, palms sweating, and stepped into the hallway to answer. "Mr. Valdemar," she answered with deference, instinctively holding the phone slightly away from her ear in anticipation of his displeasure.
To her surprise, Albert simply asked in a measured tone, "Did you select that dress for her?"
His voice betrayed no emotion, leaving the stylist uncertain of his intentions. She cautiously replied, "Your daughter brought it to her and asked her to try it on."
Fearing Albert might think she was covering up, she quickly added, "She went to call BoBo, saying Mrs. Valdemar looked beautiful in it. Though Mrs. Valdemar said she'd only show them before changing—she doesn't want this one."
After she finished speaking, Albert's deep voice came through the line with unmistakable authority.
"Keep that dress."
The stylist froze. "Pardon? Keep it? For tonight's gala?"
She felt confused, the conversation taking an unexpected turn. Perhaps Albert wasn't the stereotypical controlling CEO after all? Was he actually progressive enough to allow his wife to showcase her figure in such a striking gown? Without jealousy?
"Not for tonight. But keep the dress," Albert clarified.
The stylist suddenly understood.
He hadn't called to scold her—he wanted to purchase the gown.
She relaxed immediately. "Of course, Mr. Valdemar!"
So Albert was indeed like other powerful men—not wanting Yvette to appear too sensual in public, but still buying the dress. Perhaps for her to wear privately, just for him?
Outside the boardroom, Albert ended the call, a slight smile softening his typically hard features.
As he pushed open the door, his expression immediately returned to its stern default. He took his seat at the head of the table.
While listening to the ongoing discussion, something crossed his mind, causing a slight furrow in his brow.
He picked up his phone, his long fingers moving deftly across the screen.
With practiced ease, he pressed and held the image the stylist had sent him, saving it to his phone.
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