Chapter 4

I drove straight to Wallace’s studio.

On the way there, memories of my mother sewing that dress while she was dying of cancer kept flashing in my mind.

When I was little, I hated wearing the same clothes as other kids.

So, every year for my birthday, my mom would make me a custom dress.

Until my seventeenth birthday.

That year, she started working on the silk slip dress months in advance—from her hospital bed.

Between chemotherapy sessions, she would sew stitch by stitch.

She finished it the day before she passed away.

It was the last birthday gift she ever gave me.

I only wore it on my birthday, and only for half a day, because I was so afraid of ruining it.

I pushed open the studio door.

Wallace, who usually kept a professional distance from female models, had his arms wrapped around Juliet from behind, adjusting the tape measure around her waist.

They looked incredibly intimate.

Seeing me enter, Wallace’s face darkened, as if I had ruined their fun.

“Give me my dress back,” I said, my voice cold.

He knew the story behind that dress. He knew exactly what it meant to me.

But looking at him, all I saw in his eyes was his adoration for Juliet.

He paused for a few seconds, his tone growing arrogant.

“Alice, honestly, this dress looks much better on Juliet. Don’t you think?”

“You’re too skinny. You can’t fill it out. But Juliet has real curves. It fits her perfectly.”

My whole body began to shake with rage.

“So just because it fits her, you think you can steal it?”

“Take it off right now, or I’m calling the police!”

Wallace looked at me as if I had lost my mind. He immediately stepped in front of Juliet, shielding her.

I was so angry that I rushed forward to grab the dress.

In the scuffle, a pair of heavy fabric shears fell off the cutting table, plunging straight into the top of my foot.

Pain exploded through my body as blood began to pour onto the floor.

The shears had gone deep.

I leaned down and pulled them out, causing a fresh gush of deep red blood to soak my shoe.

Juliet started sobbing loudly.

“Wallace, does Alice hate me that much?”

“I know I’m not as skinny as a real model, but I’m trying so hard...”

Compared to the bloody hole in my foot, Juliet’s fake tears obviously hurt Wallace much more.

He glared at me, his patience entirely gone.

“Alice! Do you have to make her cry to be satisfied? Apologize to Juliet right now!”

“Me? Apologize?”

The physical pain in my foot was excruciating, but it was nothing compared to the hollow feeling in my chest.

Juliet grabbed Wallace’s arm, acting like the bigger person.

“Wallace, don't argue with her. You've been working so hard lately.”

“Alice, I’ll take the dress off right now. Please stop making a scene.”

Her words only made Wallace’s heart ache for her more.

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and looked at me with disgust.

“Since Juliet is willing to be the bigger person, I’ll let this go.”

“But you’re going to walk down to that bakery and buy Juliet’s favorite blueberry cheesecake to apologize. Otherwise, you’re never getting this dress back.”

He was doing it again. Making me "apologize" for things that weren't my fault.

If I ate a little extra for dinner, he made me run ten miles to "apologize."

If I drank too much water and looked bloated in the morning, he made me take a freezing ice bath to "apologize."

I looked at him, and any remaining love I had for this man completely died.

Only the desperate urge to escape was left.

“Fine,” I said quietly.

Wallace was stunned. He hadn't expected me to give in so easily.

He let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad you’re finally starting to be reasonable. Go on then. When you get back, we’ll talk about the wedding details.”

At the mention of the flowerless wedding, I let out a dry laugh.

“There won't be a wedding. Once I get my dress back, we are completely finished.”

Wallace assumed I was just being dramatic. He was already busy wiping Juliet’s tears with a tissue.

I limped out of the studio, ignoring the pain in my foot, and hailed a taxi on the street.