Chapter 3: The Lie Regina Chose
For one impossible second, I thought Regina had pointed behind me.
Then every face turned my way.
The terrace, the red carpet, the pool lights, the phones—everything narrowed into one accusation.
“The staff girl caused the disturbance,” Regina said.
Her voice was controlled now. Not loud. Worse. Official.
I stared at her. “What?”
“She had no authorization to be near the client dressing area. I removed her earlier for inappropriate behavior.” Regina glanced down at the torn pages by my shoes. “She was carrying drawings. Obsessive things. I believe she may have tampered with the gown.”
Lucas saw the opening and took it.
“Yes,” he said quickly. “She was hovering around Celeste all night.”
Celeste looked up through wet lashes. “No, she wasn’t.”
Regina placed a manicured hand over her heart. “Sweetheart, you are in shock. Let us protect you.”
Let us protect you.
The words made something cold settle in my stomach.
People like Regina did not need truth. They needed a sentence delivered confidently before anyone else found their voice.
Augustus finally looked at me.
His eyes were not soft, but they were not cruel. They studied my uniform, my mop bucket, my torn sketchbook, my wet hands. Then they settled on Regina’s fingers, still gripping the ripped cover.
“What did you tear?” he asked.
Regina blinked. “Excuse me?”
“That book.”
“Oh.” She gave a brittle smile. “A staff violation. Nothing relevant.”
“It was relevant to her,” he said.
No one expected that.
Neither did I.
Regina recovered. “Mr. Alden, your daughter’s safety is my priority. This girl was disruptive. If she altered the gown, that would explain the failure.”
I looked at Celeste’s dress again.
Failure.
That word crawled under my skin.
The gown had not failed because of me. It had failed because someone had taken a good design and stripped the inside until it could only look expensive, not function like it.
My mother used to say, A dress is honest on the inside first. The outside is only the rumor.
I stepped past Regina.
“Don’t move,” she snapped.
I stopped beside the pool, far enough from Celeste not to frighten her. “The left shoulder seam wasn’t reinforced.”
Regina laughed once. “Are we taking couture analysis from cleaning staff now?”
I ignored her. “The bodice was rebuilt after fitting. The waist stay was removed. That is why the gown twisted when she fell. It trapped her legs.”
Celeste looked down at the soaked fabric. “I told them it felt tighter tonight.”
Regina’s face tightened. “Celeste—”
“And I told you Lucas grabbed my arm,” Celeste said, voice shaking but clearer now. “You told me not to make a scene.”
Lucas whispered, “Celeste, don’t.”
She turned toward him. “You laughed when I hit the water.”
The silence changed.
It was silent, but heavy.
Augustus took one step toward Lucas. His cane struck the marble.
Lucas raised both hands, champagne trembling in one. “This is getting blown out of proportion.”
“Put the glass down,” Augustus said.
Lucas obeyed.
Regina looked around and saw the crowd shifting away from her. That terrified her more than Celeste’s bruise.
“This is exactly what she wants,” Regina said, pointing at me again. “The staff girl is creating drama to insert herself into my client’s moment.”
I almost laughed.
My client’s moment.
Celeste stood shivering in a ruined dress, and Regina still thought the night belonged to her.
A photographer lowered his camera. “Can the gown be fixed?”
Regina opened her mouth.
No answer came out.
My mop bucket sat five feet behind her. Under the towels were thread, clips, shears, emergency boning, seam tape, and the last un-torn pencil from my sketchbook.
I had brought proof.
But I had also brought tools.
I walked to the bucket.
Regina whispered, “If you touch that dress, I will have you removed.”
I looked at Celeste, not Regina. “Do you want out of this humiliation?”
Celeste nodded once.
May you like
I reached into the mop bucket and lifted my shears.
And that was when Augustus Alden saw the mark burned into the wooden handle.
