Daghter 202

“Ms. Elsie, it’s a gown.”

Gianna pulled the dress out and admired it with wide, wonder-filled eyes.

Elsie’s hand paused mid-motion as she fastened her earring. She stared blankly at the gown spread out in front of her. The fabric and cut were absolutely stunning—wearing it would no doubt turn heads and steal the spotlight.

She reached out to gently touch the material. It was unbelievably soft and smooth, and her face unconsciously revealed a mix of awe and envy.

“Wyatt really went all out for Yunice,” she scoffed. “Doesn’t he realize that backwoods girl doesn’t deserve something like this?”

Gianna, practically buzzing with excitement, quickly chimed in, “Ms. Elsie, I think this dress would look perfect on you. She doesn’t even live here anymore—who’s going to know Wyatt sent it to her?”

Elsie leaned lazily against the vanity. She had been thinking the same thing all along.

She sneered. “Her name might be Yunice, but my ID says Yunice too. If my name is on it, then obviously it was meant for me.”

Gianna nodded eagerly. “Exactly, exactly!”

As she unfolded the gown and was about to help Elsie try it on, a card slipped out from between the folds.

“Ms. Elsie, there’s a note inside…”

Elsie took it and scanned the contents. It was a message from Wyatt, detailing his arrangements.

“Jackson’s birthday is tomorrow?” Her brows furrowed.

Such an important occasion, and Paul hadn’t mentioned it at all. Even someone as insignificant as Yunice had received a gown for the event—yet she had gotten nothing.

Did Paul never intend to bring me to Jackson’s birthday celebration?

“All that talk about marrying me…” Elsie muttered bitterly. “Looks like it was just empty promises to string me along.”

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash.

The image of Taylor hooking arms with Paul, smiling as the social elite showered her with praise, made jealousy churn violently inside her.

“I’m Paul’s woman,” Elsie snapped. “I’m the one who should be attending an event like this.”

Gianna hesitated, then reminded her cautiously, “But Ms. Elsie, the Powell family already said you’re not welcome anymore…”

Elsie’s eyes flashed. “So what? With so many guests, who would dare throw me out in front of everyone?”

She glanced down at the gown again. “Take it to my personal tailor. Have it altered immediately—I’m going.”

Gianna nodded and hurried out with the dress.

After she left, Elsie picked the note back up, rereading Wyatt’s words. A cold resolve settled in her eyes.

At the Powell mansion, the parking lot was packed with luxury cars. Titans of finance—people usually seen only in business headlines—were suddenly as common as vegetables at a farmer’s market.

Elsie walked confidently toward the Powell family attendant, dressed in the gown Wyatt had prepared. She handed over her invitation.

The attendant scanned it, gave her a brief once-over, then stepped aside. “Please go in.”

Elsie smiled to herself as she accepted the invitation back.

Thank God for Wyatt. Without him, I never would’ve gotten in so easily.

Once inside, she followed protocol and had the staff register her name and birthday gift. Only after confirming everything was handled exactly as she requested did she head toward the main hall.

Inside the grand hall, Elsie scanned the room. Every eligible bachelor she met eyes with received a gentle smile and a poised nod in return.

Yet each man only looked puzzled before turning away, clearly unimpressed.

One reaction might have been coincidence—but all of them?

Uneasy, Elsie touched her face. Did my makeup smudge? That doesn’t make sense… I haven’t lost my charm.

Maybe she just needed to freshen up.

Then the chatter reached her ears.

“Ms. Taylor and Mr. Paul really are a stunning couple.”

“We’re just waiting for their wedding invitation!”

Elsie froze.

She turned—and locked eyes with Taylor.

Taylor’s radiant smile slowly faded as her gaze swept over Elsie from head to toe, curling into a mocking smirk.

The blatant disdain drew the attention of nearby guests, who began openly sizing Elsie up as well.

Someone frowned. “Why is she wearing the same dress as Ms. Taylor?”

Another voice dripped with contempt. “At such an important event, someone actually wore a knockoff? How embarrassing for the host family.”

“How did she even get in with such a disgraceful blunder?”

Elsie’s face flushed crimson. Flustered and cornered, she protested, “This isn’t a fake!”

Someone scoffed. “So you’re saying Ms. Taylor’s dress is the knockoff? That she copied you?”

Burning with humiliation, Elsie’s eyes welled with tears.

“You can’t judge people just by where they—”

Her voice faltered.