Because I knew exactly what this dress was—Clyde's handpicked foil costume. Beside me, Victoria wore a little white cocktail dress, pristine and untouched, like some fairy descended from the heavens.
Black and white. Gaudy and pure. Tramp and sweetheart.
Every camera angle built the same story without a single word:
One cheap. One refined.
The venue was packed, camera flashes firing from every direction.
Clyde had one arm around my waist and a champagne flute in the other, all doting smiles for the cameras like I was the love of his life.
I leaned against his shoulder, smiling too. Stiff.
Victoria watched us. A flicker of jealousy crossed her eyes, but her composure held perfectly—even when the reporters came.
She smiled gently, voice like honey.
"I'm so happy Young Mr. Gilbert found someone he really likes. I wish them nothing but the best."
The murmuring started immediately:
"Victoria's so gracious. Everyone used to say she and Young Mr. Gilbert were a couple, and now that Deidre swooped in, she can still be this classy about it."
"Right? Deidre can't hold a candle to Victoria. No family background, no manners—and that dress she's wearing, honestly…"