Chapter 2: The Woman in My Dress
The first thing I heard when the dressing-suite doors opened was laughter.
Not the nervous laughter of guests who didn't know what to do during an unexpected delay.
Real laughter.
The kind that erupts when people believe they are watching someone else's humiliation and feel grateful it isn't their own.
I descended the staircase slowly, holding my bouquet in one hand and lifting the gold gown with the other.
Every step revealed another piece of the ballroom.
The chandeliers.
The white roses.
The champagne fountain.
And Brittany, standing beside the altar in the gown I had spent eleven months creating.
She turned when she heard my heels.
For one beautiful second, her smile disappeared.
Then she recovered.
"Madison!"" she called, spreading her arms.
"There you are!""
The room quieted.
I continued walking.
Brittany looked me up and down, taking in the gold silk and crystal embroidery.
Her expression shifted from surprise to irritation.
"You changed your dress?""
"Yes.""
"But why?""
I stopped a few feet from her.
"Why are you wearing mine?""
Several guests lowered their champagne glasses.
Brittany laughed as if I had asked an amusing question.
"Oh, don't be dramatic. It's just a dress.""
I looked at the pearls sewn across her bodice.
"Then take it off.""
Her smile tightened.
"Madison, everyone is watching.""
"I noticed.""
"You'll embarrass yourself if you keep acting like this.""
I glanced at the microphone in Victoria's hand.
"Am I the one wearing another woman's wedding gown?""
A murmur swept through the ballroom.
Brittany's cheeks reddened.
Victoria stepped between us.
"Madison, please. This is neither the time nor the place.""
I looked at her.
"You're right. The appropriate time and place would have been before someone stole my dress.""
"Nobody stole anything.""
"Then why is my name printed on the original design certificate inside the garment bag?""
Victoria's jaw tightened.
Brittany looked toward her.
It was quick.
But it was enough.
"That certificate doesn't mean anything," Brittany said.
"Really? It includes the serial number, the materials inventory, and photographs documenting every stage of construction.""
"I didn't ask for a lecture.""
"Then stop giving me reasons to explain.""
A few guests laughed.
Brittany's face changed.
She stepped closer and lowered her voice.
"You think you're so much better than me.""
"No.""
"Yes, you do. You always have.""
I studied her carefully.
The woman in front of me was thirty years old, yet she looked exactly like the girl who used to cry whenever I received praise.
"Brittany, I didn't come downstairs to compete with you.""
"Of course not. You already won.""
"Won what?""
"Everything!""
Her voice cracked across the ballroom.
"You have the business, the money, the magazines, the perfect fiancé. You have parents who brag about you even when I walk into the room. You have everything, Madison!""
I felt something cold settle beneath my ribs.
There it was.
Not remorse.
Not embarrassment.
Envy.
The kind that had been growing inside her for years, fed by our parents' constant insistence that I should share whatever I earned.
"I didn't take anything from you," I said.
Brittany's eyes filled with tears.
"You never had to take anything. People just gave it all to you.""
I almost laughed.
She had no idea what my first studio had looked like.
A rented room above a dry cleaner. One sewing machine. A folding table. A mattress on the floor.
She had never seen me work through the night because I couldn't afford another employee.
She had never watched me sell my grandmother's jewelry to pay a supplier who threatened to cancel an order.
She had never known how many times I had wanted to quit.
But she knew every magazine cover.
Every award.
Every moment when people clapped for me.
Those were the only parts of my life she had ever considered real.
Nathan stepped away from the altar.
He was dressed in a black tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly arranged, his expression controlled in a way I knew meant he was furious.
"Madison," he said, reaching for my hand.
I took it.
He turned toward Brittany.
"Take the dress off.""
Brittany blinked.
"Nathan, this has nothing to do with you.""
He stared at her.
"You're wearing the gown my fiancée designed for her wedding. I'd say that makes it very much my business.""
She looked toward Victoria.
Victoria immediately lifted her chin.
"Nathan, don't speak to your future sister-in-law that way.""
"My future sister-in-law is standing beside me," he replied.
"The woman wearing Madison's dress is committing a theft in front of three hundred witnesses.""
Several guests gasped.
Brittany's eyes widened.
"You can't call it theft!""
"Then explain how you got it.""
She hesitated.
"I was given permission.""
"By whom?""
Silence.
Nathan looked at me.
I squeezed his hand once.
Not yet.
I wasn't ready to let them turn this into a shouting match that would distract everyone from the facts.
Instead, I addressed the wedding coordinator.
"Claire, please bring the original inventory file and the garment room access log.""
Claire, a small woman with dark hair and a headset, hurried forward.
"Of course, Madison.""
Victoria stepped into her path.
"That won't be necessary.""
Claire stopped.
I looked at Victoria.
"Why not?""
"Because this is a family matter.""
"Then you won't mind the family hearing the truth.""
Victoria's lips pressed together.
Brittany tugged at the bodice.
"Madison, you're ruining everything.""
I looked at the dress.
"No, Brittany. I'm asking you to stop wearing something that doesn't belong to you.""
She glanced around the room.
Phones were raised.
Guests were whispering.
The photographer had lowered his camera, unsure whether to keep documenting the disaster.
Then Brittany did something that made even Victoria recoil.
She seized the bouquet from my hand.
"Fine!"" she shouted.
"If you're so determined to make me look like a thief, take it!""
She flung the flowers to the marble floor.
White orchids scattered beneath her train.
One crystal petal on the gown caught against the bouquet's wire binding.
A sharp rip sounded through the ballroom.
Brittany froze.
I looked down.
A delicate line of torn silk ran along the lower skirt.
Not a catastrophic tear.
But a tear nonetheless.
My breath caught.
For eleven months, I had protected that gown from careless hands, spilled drinks, sharp jewelry, and the smallest snag.
My sister had damaged it in less than an hour.
She looked at the tear.
Then she looked at me.
And smiled.
It was a tiny smile, almost invisible.
But I saw it.
"You can always make another one," she whispered.
Nathan heard her.
His expression went utterly still.
"Get away from her," he said.
Brittany lifted her chin.
"You're not even married yet.""
"That can be corrected in about ten minutes.""
Victoria stepped forward.
"Enough! Nathan, you are not going to allow Madison to turn this wedding into a spectacle over a piece of clothing.""
He looked at his mother.
"A piece of clothing?""
"Yes.""
"That piece of clothing is insured, documented, and worth more than most people's houses.""
"Money isn't everything.""
"No," Nathan said.
"But honesty should be worth something.""
Victoria's eyes flashed.
"You have no idea what you're saying.""
"I know exactly what I'm saying.""
He took the microphone from her.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I'm sorry for the confusion. Madison and I will be taking a brief moment to resolve an issue involving her wedding gown.""
Brittany grabbed his sleeve.
"Don't you dare.""
He pulled away.
"You should have thought about that before you put it on.""
She stared at him, suddenly frightened.
For the first time, I wondered whether she had expected Nathan to be flattered.
Perhaps she had imagined that he would see her wearing the gown, admire the spectacle, and blame me for objecting.
Perhaps Victoria had promised her that he would.
Whatever they had planned, it was falling apart.
Claire returned with a tablet and a thick folder.
"Madison," she said, "I've got the access log.""
I opened the folder.
The garment room had been accessed twice that morning.
At 8:17 a.m., by an authorized staff member.
At 8:42 a.m., by someone using the emergency override code.
The name attached to the first entry was Claire's assistant.
The second entry had no staff name.
Only a handwritten note.
Authorized by V. Cole.
I looked up.
Victoria's face had gone pale.
"Would you like to explain this?"" I asked.
She recovered quickly.
"I authorized a temporary adjustment. Brittany wanted to try the gown.""
"Why?""
"She was upset.""
"Why was she upset?""
"Because she felt excluded.""
I stared at her.
"You gave my sister access to my wedding dress because she felt excluded from my wedding?""
Victoria's silence answered me.
Then Nathan reached for the tablet.
He studied the log, his expression darkening.
"Mom," he said quietly, "tell me you didn't do this.""
Victoria looked at him.
"Everything I do is for your happiness.""
"That's not an answer.""
She swallowed.
Then her eyes shifted toward Brittany.
And Brittany, who had spent the entire morning smiling as if she had won a prize, suddenly looked terrified.
Because she had just realized something.
The access log wasn't the only record of what had happened that morning.
Bellamere Estate had cameras in every corridor.
Including the hallway outside the garment room.
And Claire had just discovered that the camera had recorded someone carrying a pair of scissors into the room at 8:39 a.m.
Someone whose face was unmistakable.
May you like
Someone who wasn't Brittany.
It was my mother.
