CHAPTER 42
Celeste’s POV
I put a smile on my face and greet them, the way I always did with potential clients.
But the moment Isadora saw me, her smile evaporated.
Her lips tightened as if she’d bitten into something sour. I saw it all in one blink–the recognition, the shock, the disbelief.
Perhaps it never crossed her mind that I could be capable of this–that the girl she used to dismiss and belittle could one day own a name worth whispering about in upper circles
She had spent so long underestimating me, she probably assumed I’d crawled away quietly after the scandal.
Her brow lifted slightly, her tone dipped with something resembling confusion. “You? What are you doing here?”
I smiled thinly. “Working”
She relaxed a little, clearly assuming I was a retail assistant.
“Oh,” she said with feigned pleasantness. “So you’re an employee here. Good thing they took you in despite your reputation.”
“No,” I said. My smile didn’t waver. “I own it.”
Isadora’s painted–on smile cracked like a cheap mask.
One of the women beside her raised an eyebrow with a little smirk
“Really? That’s impressive,” someone murmured.
“No wonder Sebastian Moreau admires you so much!” another gasped, genuinely surprised.
“Well,” she muttered, wrinkling her nose and looking around in apparent disgust. “It seems the hype on the Internet was exaggerated. I think there’s nothing remarkable here. The interior is rather… underwhelming ”
She ignored the disapproving glances from the women around her and continued. “I mean, I suppose there’s a certain charm if you’re into the rustic, mismatched look.” Her tone was sarcastic.”
A few of the ladies exchanged quiet looks–uneasy, embarrassed, and some a little amused–but Isadora carried on like she was giving a critique on live television.
“And the pieces… Frankly, bordering on vulgar.” Her gaze swept over the gowns with practiced disdain. “Some of these cuts are too cheap–looking. Not quite the refined sophistication we’re accustomed to, wouldn’t you say, ladies?”
Of course. This was exactly the kind of reaction I expected from Isadora Vaughn. She wouldn’t let herself be outshined by someone she used to look down on.
But if she thought I would let it slide–if she thought I was still the quiet, obedient thing she once scolded and stepped on–she
+20 Bonus
was sorely mistaken.
I walked to the rack and pulled out a half–finished gown, placing it near her without a word–just close enough for her coat to brush against it,
“Ah, yes,” I said lightly. “You always loved telling people what was ‘proper‘ and what wasn’t, didn’t you?”
I let the words hang before continuing, my voice dipped in mock sweetness.
“Like when you sneered that red lipstick was only for desperate women… Or when you said I’d never be taken seriously unless I dressed like a widow at a board meeting”
Her mouth dropped open in surprise and disbelief.
I tilted my head, smiling faintly. “Judging everyone, dictating taste like you were some kind of moral compass draped in Chanel.”
Let her choke on that. Because this time, I wasn’t going to let her walk away without paying the price.
The other women then glanced at each other, and a few tried to cover their snickers. A chuckle slipped from one of them.
Isadora’s nostrils flared.
“You always did have a flair for dramatics,” she snapped. “And delusions of grandeur, clearly. Owning a shop doesn’t give you class.”
She looked around again with a look of pure disgust on her face.
“Well,” she huffed, clearly flailing now, “it’s no wonder this place hasn’t made it to serious fashion circles. I doubt a boutique like this will last another season.
I tilted my head, smiled razor–sharp. “Odd. That’s not what your friends were saying when they walked in. But then again, I wouldn’t expect you to recognize success if it wasn’t served to you on a silver spoon.”
A couple of the women laughed out loud.
Isadora shot them a glare, but the damage was done.
Without a second thought, Isadora reached for the sample dress I had carefully placed near her just minutes ago and tore the fabric with a vicious tug, not even bothering to look at the label.
I gasped in mock horror, then clutched the torn gown to my chest as my eyes filled with sudden tears.
Isadora actually looked smug, seeing me in that state. “Maybe now you’ll think twice before parading cheap rags as couture.”
I let out a shaky breath, tears coming to my eyes. I stared down at the ruined gown like it had just broken something inside me. “My god…” I whispered, my voice trembling with carefully crafted panic. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
The room went still. A few women shifted uneasily. Isadora’s smug expression remained firmly in place.
2/3
“Your creations are trash!” she said disdainfully, “Just like the designer. ”
+20 Bonus
“How could you do this?!” I wailed, my voice filled with faux dévastation. “You’ve destroyed it! Oh, no! What am I going to do
now?!
I put on my most desperate expression. “Oh, god, no! It wasn’t ready. We were supposed to wait….
“Wait for what?” someone asked quietly.
I looked up, slowly, eyes wide. “For her fitting ”
Whispers sparked instantly. Isadora’s smile faltered.
I straightened just a little, enough for my voice to ring clear:
“You just destroyed Madam Diane’s gown.”
ty of Finance official–was someone Isadora couldn’t afford to offend.
Madam Diane–the wife of a senior Ministry of
Gasps exploded across the boutique.
I turned, eyes locking with hers. “She’s on her way here right now.”
