Chapter 3: The Dress Nobody Understood
My wedding gown had been made by the prestigious Laurent Atelier.
The legendary designer Isabelle Laurent had died twenty-four years earlier, but her fashion house still created extraordinary bridal gowns.
I’d fallen in love with one particular design.
Imported Italian silk.
Thousands of crystals.
Delicate silver vines embroidered across the bodice.
An elaborate outer skirt attached through tiny crystal clasps.
It cost $120,000.
Adrian insisted on paying.
But my mother had reacted strangely when she saw the sketches.
She stared at the silver embroidery.
Then asked, “Who designed this?”
“Isabelle Laurent’s original collection.”
Mom turned pale.
“Are you sure?”
I nodded.
She touched the drawing with trembling fingers.
“Emma, there’s something I need to tell you.”
Before she could continue, her phone rang.
She never returned to the conversation.
A week later, the atelier’s creative director contacted me privately.
“Your gown includes a historical design feature,” she explained.
“Please don’t remove the inner lining before your wedding.”
I assumed she meant the decorative silk underskirt.
Now, behind the bridal screen, I realized the truth.
The damaged outer gown concealed a second dress.
Flawless.
Untouched.
And beneath the bodice was a panel of intricate embroidery I’d never noticed before.
Claire stared at it.
“Emma… what is that?”
I brushed my fingers over the pattern.
A silver crown surrounded by two intertwined roses.
Beneath it were three initials.
I.L. — R.B. — V.H.
My breath caught.
Isabelle Laurent.
Robert Bennett.
Victoria Harrington.
My mother’s former employer had once mentioned Isabelle.
My father’s name was Robert Bennett.
And Victoria’s initials were unmistakable.
Somehow, all three were connected.
I looked at Claire.
“There’s a reason Victoria wanted this dress destroyed.”
“What reason?”
I swallowed.
“I think we’re about to find out.”
