Chapter 2

I spoke. My voice was incredibly raspy, as if I had swallowed sand.

Julian frowned. "Why aren't you changed yet? The banquet is starting soon. Even though you don't need to go on stage, as the chief designer, you still need to be downstairs to represent the company."

See? He didn't even want me on stage.

This eighth chance had ended before it even began.

"The shoes on Chloe's feet... they don't really match, do they?"

I ignored his rush. My eyes fell on Chloe’s worn-out flat shoes.

As if she had been burned, Chloe pulled her feet back. Her eyes welled with tears instantly. "I'm so sorry, Vivian... Because of my health, I can't wear heels... I know I don't deserve such a beautiful dress. I'll take it off right now and give it back to you..."

She reached for the zipper, her hands trembling violently, looking as if she had been deeply wronged.

"Don't touch it!" Julian grabbed her hand, spinning around to glare at me. "Vivian, do you have to be so venomous? Chloe just got back. She doesn't know how any of this works. Why do you have to pick on her?"

I stood there, looking at the man I had loved for eight long years.

Suddenly, the face that used to haunt my dreams—the face I had pulled all-nighters for, the face I had drunk myself into stomach bleeding for—felt completely foreign. Even... repulsive.

"I’m not picking on her."

I looked at him calmly and lifted the velvet box. "I’m just saying, these shoes were custom-made to go with this dress."

Julian’s face softened slightly. "Then bring them over and let Chloe try them on. Even if she can't wear them for long, she can at least take a photo."

I looked at his outstretched hand, a cold mock creeping onto my lips.

"But Julian, these are a US Size 7."

"Chloe is a Size 5."

"These shoes were molded exactly to my feet."

The air froze.

Chloe bit her lip, a flash of panic crossing her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with a look of pure, innocent admiration. "Oh, Vivian, you prepared so well... It’s all my fault. I took your spotlight. Everyone outside is saying this eighth gown is the symbol of the future Mrs. Kingsley. Is it against the rules for me to wear it?"

Julian let out a soft laugh, as if she had asked a very childish question.

"What 'Mrs. Kingsley'? That was just a joke my grandfather made years ago. Only you girls take it seriously."

He adjusted Chloe’s dress, speaking casually:

"In my heart, whoever I cherish is the real lady of the house."

"As for Vivian..." He paused, his tone carrying a trace of annoyance. "She’s too strong-headed. She's like a work machine. She doesn't have half of your sweetness."

The velvet box slipped from my fingers without warning.

Thud.

It hit the marble floor hard.

The box popped open, and the diamond-encrusted crystal heels rolled out. One of the heels struck the sharp corner of the table and snapped instantly.

The two people in the room spun around.

Seeing the mess on the floor, a flash of shock crossed Julian’s face, which quickly turned into pure irritation.

"Vivian! What the hell is wrong with you?"

He marched over, looking at the broken heel. He didn't ask if I was okay. Instead, he scowled and yelled:

"Even if Chloe can't wear them, these are still company property! How could you be so careless? I was going to have you alter them for Chloe as a backup. Now look at this. How cursed is this?"

Cursed.

My hard work. My love. My eight years.

In his eyes, it was all just "cursed."

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

I laughed so hard tears almost came out, but I forced them back down.

"Julian."

"These shoes were never for her."

"And this dress was never for her either."

"This is my work, and it was my... very last chance for myself."

Julian seemed taken aback by the look in my eyes. The familiar adoration and obedience were gone, replaced by a freezing, dead silence.

Slightly irritated, he tried to grab my hand, softening his tone like he was coaxing a throwing-a-tantrum child.

"Stop acting up, okay? I know you’re upset, but think of the bigger picture."

"Chloe's health is bad. Can't you just let her have this once? It’s just for one night."

"It’s just a dress. Next year, I promise. Next year I’ll let you wear the finale gown. The entire spotlight will be on you, alright?"