Chapter 122
Effie glanced down at her dress, the hint of a smile playing on her lips. Her tone was mild, almost amused. “That’s right. Why do you ask?”
Sigrid’s voice shot up a notch, her disbelief laid bare. “How could you possibly get a custom UKISS piece?”
Effie arched an eyebrow, her composure unshaken. “Is it so impossible? Yet, here I am, wearing it.”
Sigrid couldn’t believe it.
If this dress had been on the back of any other socialite in the room, she wouldn’t have batted an eye. But this gown was worth seven figures. Effie, of all people— how on earth did she pull this off? Not long ago, Effie had been completely ordinary; now she seemed to have transformed overnight, the ugly duckling turned swan.
The comparison was almost painful-Effie made Sigrid feel utterly forgettable.
Effie, meanwhile, knew exactly what Sigrid was thinking, but she couldn’t be bothered to explain. If Sigrid ever found out just how many UKISS dresses she had stashed at home, she’d probably have a meltdown. Lyman had commissioned a whole wardrobe for her, after all.
Effie was about to go find her colleagues; even another word with Sigrid felt like a waste of effort. Sigrid, seeing just how indifferent Effie was to her now, felt a fresh wave of discomfort. Effie used to be so accommodating, so eager to please. What had happened to her?
Wasn’t Effie supposed to be struggling after leaving her brother’s house? Instead, she looked every bit the princess-elegant, poised, almost ethereal. It was infuriating.
Sigrid’s envy was eating her alive as she watched Effie carry herself with effortless grace.
Just then, a commotion rippled through the entrance. Clearly, someone important had arrived. Instinctively, everyone turned toward the door-and that’s when Isabel made her entrance, the picture of poise and confidence.
This was exactly the effect Isabel wanted. She’d waited until the room was full before making her appearance, instantly seizing the spotlight.
She swept her gaze across the crowd. No wonder this was the Fashion Gala- everyone was dressed to impress, every outfit a declaration of status and taste.
Compliments began to ripple through the crowd. “Miss Isabel looks absolutely stunning! That dress is incredible!”
“Well, she’s a dancer and a celebrity. Of course she has the figure and presence to pull it off.”
“Isn’t that a custom UKISS gown? Practically impossible to get your hands on!”
A low voice spoke up somewhere in the crowd, “I’m pretty sure I just saw someone else wearing that exact same UKISS dress…”
The words weren’t loud, but they spread quickly. All eyes shifted between Isabel and Effie.
Suddenly, there was real drama brewing. In high society-especially at an event like this-showing up in the same dress as someone else was the ultimate faux pas. It wasn’t just embarrassing; it was social suicide. And to make matters worse, everyone would be silently judging which of the two wore it better.
Isabel, basking in the attention only moments before, immediately caught wind of the whispers. Her smile faltered. She scanned the crowd until her eyes landed on Effie.
Effie stood off to the side, calm and collected. The custom UKISS gown shimmered under the lights, making her seem even more refined and unapproachable-like a rare blossom in full bloom.
Isabel’s expression iced over in an instant.
Damn it. They really were wearing the same dress.