Chapter 123
Isabel was so furious she could practically taste blood.
She’d spent months planning and countless hours securing this dress, only to walk in and find someone else wearing the exact same thing.
And not just anyone-Effie, of all people!
Unbelievable.
Effie hadn’t even registered what was happening before Sigrid, standing nearby, piped up with a smirk. “Effie, I have to ask-how did you get your hands on a UKISS gown? Don’t tell me you’re wearing a knockoff. God, that’s just pathetic. How desperate are you to show off?”
Sigrid could scarcely believe her eyes-two identical dresses at the same event? Impossible.
Everyone knew UKISS couture pieces were one-of-a-kind. Which could only mean one thing: one of these was a fake.
And this was Isabel-famed dancer and celebrity-no way would she be caught dead in a counterfeit.
So, obviously, Effie must be the fraud.
Sigrid gave Effie a derisive once-over. She’d thought it was odd from the start. How could Effie possibly afford a UKISS original? Turns out, she was shameless enough to wear a fake.
Effie, too, frowned when she saw Isabel.
Did they really just show up in the same dress?
Whispers swept through the room: who was wearing the counterfeit?
But Effie-unlike Sigrid-looked entirely unbothered. She knew for a fact her dress was the real deal.
She met Sigrid’s gaze, her tone cool and steady. “And what proof do you have that my dress is fake? Or do you always talk out of your ass? It reeks when you do.”
“You-! Excuse me? Isn’t it obvious? UKISS never makes two of the same dress. So which of you is trying to pull a fast one?” Sigrid shot back, her voice rising. Before Effie could retort, Isabel strode over, eyes sweeping over Effie in disdain. She addressed the crowd, her tone dripping with confidence. “This gown was custom made for me at great expense-close to a million pounds. There’s no way mine’s a fake.”
A collective gasp rippled through the onlookers.
A million pounds? Even for this crowd of socialites, that was real money. No one present would casually drop that much on a single dress.
It seemed obvious to everyone: Isabel’s dress was genuine, and Effie’s was the knockoff.
Isabel could barely contain her satisfaction. She’d been waiting for a chance to put Effie down, and now it had fallen right into her lap.
Wearing a counterfeit? In high society, that was social suicide.
With a bright, triumphant smile, Isabel turned to Effie. “Miss Bagnold, what a coincidence that we have such similar taste. Where did you find your gown? Are you sure you weren’t duped?”
Effie answered in a measured tone. “Who’s being duped is still up for debate. What makes you so certain my dress isn’t real? I paid a small fortune for mine, too.”
“But mine came through the official channels, and I have the receipt to prove it,” Isabel replied, feigning innocence.
“Well, so do I. We could argue all day, but what’s the point? There’s a simple way to settle this.” Effie’s patience was clearly wearing thin.
“And how, exactly, do you propose we do that?” Isabel asked, caught off guard.
“If you’re a true UKISS devotee, you should know every gown comes with an authenticity code. People can replicate the look, but they can’t copy the real thing.”
As soon as Effie finished, the room fell silent. Every eye locked onto her and Isabel.
The UKISS authenticity code was a closely guarded secret—each bespoke gown had a unique identifier stitched into a hidden seam, verifiable only through the brand’s official channels.
But not everyone knew about this-only the brand’s most exclusive clients were ever told.