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.
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