champagne. The private haute couture salon was bathed in soft

the skirt flowing like a liquid night sky. Tiny crystals were hand-stitched along the bodice, catching the light

t director, breathed, adjusting a fol

s a whirlwind of blonde hair and sharp opinions, the only Morrow who didn't treat Chloe l

't care about Bentley's tongue. She c

rs of the sal

e wasn't alone. A woman stood beside him, her hand resting lightly o

. Sloane stopped clapp

loane snapped, standing up

flicker of something-possessiveness? regret?-crossing his face before it s

ched up and r

. The face from the hospital bed. Blair Walton. She looked fragile, her skin

t and trembling. "I'm so sorry. I didn't me

e platform. "Don't play the victim with

hip. "That's enough. Blair was in an accid

lip trembling. "Please don't be mad at her.

lip. The wide eyes. It was manipulative. It

en visiting in the hospital?" Chlo

s jaw tight. "Yes. She n

fear to longing. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It looks like the night

d the platform. She reached out a pale

er hand away. "D

d to her chest. Tears spilled

m around her shoulders. He glared at Sloane, then loo

ive her t

inch looked like she wanted to sink into the carpe

sked, the word

no room for argument. "You can have another one m

wasn't just a dress. It was her dignity. It was the l

sobbed, burying her face in Bentl

er," Chloe said, her voice

his voice low and threatening. "Do

married. The man who had held her hand and promis

" Chlo

sped. "Ch

ds. She unzipped the side of the gown. She didn't care that she was standing in her underwear

ng it in a puddle on the platform. She put on her

lair, past the tears and the ma

called after her,

. The lie was theirs. She was done pla