Chapter 5

Seraphina's POV

Three days later, Natalie broke the silence.

"Seraphina, you're coming with me to try on dresses."

It wasn't a request; it was an order.

Father and Mother sat on the living room sofa, nodding along before fixing their stern eyes on me, daring me to refuse.

I set down the cleaning rag in my hand and said softly, "Natalie, it's not really convenient for me—"

"What's so inconvenient about it?" Mother snapped, her brow instantly furrowing. "You just can't stand seeing your sister happy, can you? It's just a bridal fitting! She's choosing an engagement gown, and she's being generous enough to let you tag along to broaden your horizons. What right do you have to complain?"

I didn't argue.

I knew anything I said would fall on deaf ears. In the Vance household, I had never possessed the right to say no.

Natalie had booked an appointment at the most exclusive haute couture bridal atelier in the city. A sleek black Rolls-Royce pulled up to the curb. Natalie stepped out in towering stilettos, followed closely by two assistants carrying her designer bags.

I trailed behind like an unwanted, faded shadow.

The staff inside immediately greeted Natalie with practiced, dazzling smiles. Head held high, Natalie strutted in, tossing her purse to an attendant before pointing a dismissive finger at me by the entrance.

"Find a corner to shove her into. Don't let her wander around."

I was escorted to a low sofa in the far corner of the lounge area.

The moment I sat down, the quiet murmurs of two nearby stylists drifted over.

"Did you see that girl who just walked in? She's stunning."

"Who? The bride?"

"No, the one in the white tee who walked in last. I caught a glimpse of her face—she's so delicate and naturally gorgeous, way prettier than the bride inside."

"Are you insane?! Keep your voice down! If she hears you, we're dead."

I sat with my head bowed, my face completely expressionless.

Yet a bitter mockery bloomed in my chest. Pretty? I hadn't heard that word directed at me in years. In the Vance family, I was always the reject. Ugly, frumpy, pathetic, embarrassing—those were the labels etched into my existence for over twenty years.

Now strangers were calling me beautiful.

Pity I didn't care anymore.

Over by the fitting suites, Natalie tried on gown after gown. Every time the heavy velvet curtains pulled back, the staff showered her with rehearsed praise.

"Miss Vance, this mermaid cut accentuates your curves perfectly!"

"This cathedral train was practically sculpted for you!"

"The off-the-shoulder neckline is so regal—Mr. Hayes is going to lose his mind when he sees you."

Natalie's conceited laughter echoed through the boutique, growing louder and sharper.

After trying on the sixth dress, she declared, "I'll take this one."

The consultants breathed a collective sigh of relief, preparing the paperwork. Suddenly, Natalie's voice drifted sharply from the dressing area as she addressed the stylist beside her: "Were you girls gossiping about someone being pretty earlier?"

The flattering laughter instantly died.

"I asked you a question," Natalie pressed, her tone turning venomous. "Were you saying I'm not as pretty as that girl over there?"

"Miss Vance, you misunderstood—"

"I didn't misunderstand shit." Natalie violently ripped a diamond-encrusted veil off a mannequin and hurled it to the floor. "You think I'm blind?! You actually think that pathetic little charity case looks better than me?!"

The terrified stylists froze, too scared to breathe.

Fuming, Natalie stormed across the showroom straight toward me. She snatched the phone out of my hands and violently slammed it onto the glass table.

"Who told you to come here and show off?! What the hell are you, sitting around thinking you have a right to be here?!"

I lifted my head, meeting her gaze.

My eyes were chillingly calm.

Natalie's sneer faltered under my empty stare. Just as she was about to lash out, the heavy glass doors swung open.

Ethan stepped inside.

He wore a tailored charcoal-gray suit, his dark hair slicked back with ruthless precision, exuding an air of icy, untouchable privilege. The second Natalie spotted him, her fury melted away, replaced by instant, trembling tears.

Her theatrical waterworks turned on in a fraction of a second.

"Ethan..."

She threw herself into his arms, sobbing inconsolably against his lapel.

"What happened?" Ethan held her waist, his brow creasing with immediate concern. "Who upset you?"

"Her!" Natalie pointed a trembling finger at me. "She came here to ruin my fitting! She told the stylists that I'm ugly and that she's prettier than me... Ethan, look at her! She's doing this on purpose because she wants to steal you from me!"

I sat on the low couch, watching her performance with a profound sense of exhaustion.

I didn't even have the energy to open my mouth.

Ethan followed Natalie's finger, his gaze locking onto me like sub-zero frost.

Releasing Natalie, he strode over, looming over me with suffocating pressure.

"Seraphina, what the hell did you do?"

I slowly stood up, looking him dead in the eye.

"If I told you I never said that, would you believe me?"

Ethan didn't bother answering my question. Instead, he coldly turned his head toward the petrified boutique staff.

The employees trembled, glued to the floor.

"You all thought Seraphina was pretty, didn't you?" Ethan's voice was as sharp as a razor. "Change your tune right now. Anyone who doesn't call her hideous doesn't walk out of this boutique today."

The stylists exchanged panicked glances, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.

I knew exactly what they were terrified of. Crossing Natalie Vance was bad enough, but crossing Ethan Hayes was a death sentence in this city. Nobody dared cross the Hayes empire.

"Say it!" Ethan demanded, his voice cracking like a whip.

One stylist swallowed hard, forcing out a trembling voice: "Um... Miss Seraphina... she... she actually looks very plain..."

"Right, exactly," another joined in quickly. "She's not pretty at all... honestly, she looks too unrefined to even stand in a place like this..."

One by one, the staff chimed in, rushing to save their jobs.

"Just look at her, she's practically skin and bones. How could she ever compare to the bride?"

"She looks sick and hollowed out. It's actually uncomfortable to look at."

"She's completely ordinary. Standing next to Miss Vance, she looks like a maid."

The insults grew louder, each word uglier than the last.

I stood before the full-length mirror, watching my own reflection.

Those cruel words stabbed into my ears like serrated blades. Yet, I didn't cry. I didn't scream. My expression didn't even twitch.

I simply clenched my fists inside my pockets, my nails digging so hard into my palms that they punctured the skin, drawing blood.

Ethan stood beside me, watching me with supreme cruelty.

"Hear that?" he sneered. "That's who you really are. In everyone's eyes, you're an eyesore. And you thought you could compete with Natalie? You're not worthy."

I closed my eyes.

I listened to my own heartbeat—slow, steady, and unbothered.

It didn't hurt.

It truly didn't hurt anymore.

Slowly, I opened my eyes and looked into Ethan's.

Those were the eyes I had been infatuated with for ten long years. Back in the rubble, that dying boy with eyes as clear as mountain springs—I had once thought he was the purest thing on earth.

And now?

Now, those eyes held nothing but icy arrogance, shallow cruelty, and disgusting elitism.

"Are you finished?" I asked softly.

Ethan blinked, momentarily stunned by my composure.

I stood there, looking at him with absolute indifference, as if observing a complete stranger on the street.

"I've heard enough," I said with a slight nod. "Can I leave now?"

Without waiting for his permission, I turned toward the exit.

"Stop right there!" Ethan's sharp voice barked behind me. "Did I say you could leave?!"

My steps paused for a fraction of a second.

Then, I kept walking, not slowing down for an instant.

Behind me came Natalie's sniffling complaints and Ethan's tender reassurances. Natalie whined, "Ethan, see how arrogant she is?" and Ethan replied, "Ignore her. She's just an ungrateful wretch."

I never looked back.

Pushing through the heavy glass doors, bright sunlight washed over my body, warm and slightly blinding.

I squinted up at the sky.

It was a brilliant blue. Just like the sky above the ruins ten years ago.

That day, when I finally crawled out from beneath the concrete, that vivid blue sky was the very first thing I saw.

I had thought I would cherish that blue for the rest of my life.

Now, I realized that some memories weren't worth holding onto at all.