Sylvia had barely stepped through the door when she noticed that Freya, who had been tailing her earlier, had vanished into thin air.


    It seemed Freya, fearing a confrontation, had opted for a disappearing act. No doubt she nned to reappearter, ying the role of the concerned friend, shifting the me onto Sylvia while leaving her to face the fallout alone. But Freya overlooked one thing: in her absence, Sylvia now had full control of the narrative.


    Facing Eloise''s husband, Sylvia offered a polite smile. "Thank you, but I think I need to clear the air."


    Eloise''s husband nced nervously to the side before quickly interjecting, "No need for exnations. I trust you."


    His statement, though seemingly casual, carried undeniable implications.


    "No, not to you. I need to exin to Ms. Eloise. The dress I''m wearing... it''s a knockoff," Sylvia admitted, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she faced Eloise. "I apologize for the misunderstanding. I''ve always admired you, and I guess I tried to emte your style. But as an intern, I simply can''t afford the real thing, so I resorted to buying a cheap imitation."


    To drive her point home, Sylvia tugged at her cor, revealing nobel.


    The brand she was used of mimicking was known for patenting its carebels, making it nearly impossible for counterfeits to replicate them.


    Knowing this, Sylvia had removed thebel in the restroom.


    "I bought this dress but was too scared to wear it. It''s been sitting in my bag. I only put it on because my dress got dirty, and I had no other choice," she exined, effectively defusing the tension in the room.


    After all, if her intention had been to provoke Eloise, why would she admit to wearing a fake? Sylvia framed herself not as a challenger but as an adoring fan, subtly elevating Eloise''s status in the process. Eloise''s expression softened considerably. "You know, if you really like my style, you could''ve just asked me," she said with indulgent warmth, her grace winning over the room.


    Sylvia apologized. "I won''t do it again. A fake is a fake, and, honestly, the fit isn''t right. I''ll be more careful in the future."


    Just then, Christine approached with a brisk pace. "That doesn''t look like a fake to me. Did you remove thebel on purpose?"


    Sylvia had been waiting for this. "Christine, have you ever bought anything from this brand? How would you know what''s genuine?"


    Christine stumbled over her words, "I... I haven''t, but you can''t just im it''s a fake without proof, right?"


    "Alright, let''s look at the proof."


    Sylvia pulled up her phone, disying a detailed fake purchase history.


    This clever maneuver was thanks to Naomi.


    Before marrying Edwin, Naomi had


    worked as a luxury brand sales


    associate and knew several counterfeit sellers. These vendors often paid sales associates for product details to create high-quality replicas,plete with fake


    purchase histories.


    With a single request, Naomi had secured Sylvia a wless alibi.


    After reviewing the evidence, Sylvia asked innocently, "Any more questions?"


    Christine was at a loss for words.


    Sylvia then turned to Bridget. "Ms. Simpson, happy birthday. Let''s not let this little misunderstanding dampen the festivities." Bridget forced a smile and urged the crowd, "Please, don''t mind us. Let''s continue the celebration."


    Then, in a deliberate show for Sylvia, Bridget looped her arm through Rupert''s. "Rupert, it''s almost time for


    the cake. Shall we geove


    "Sure."


    His voice was deep and resonant, but Sylvia was too busy adjusting her shoes to notice the intense, brooding gaze that lingered on her for a long moment before finally shifting away.


    Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a man approached her with a ss in hand. "Ms. Lloyd, might I have the honor..." "Sorry, I''m a bit tied up at the moment."


    The gentleman departed, only for another suitor to take his ce.


    "Ms. Lloyd, when might you be free..."


    "Apologies, I''m currently unavable."


    "Ms. Lloyd..."


    "No."


    By the seventh refusal, Sylvia''s patience was waning when suddenly, Freya''s call came through.


    "Sylvia, why on earth did you say the dress was a knockoff?"