<b>Chapter 675 </b>
Camille arrived at her design studio only to find Elva sitting rigidly, as if awaiting a verdict.
“Are you the wife of Mr. Chambers?” she inquired with a touch of surprise.
Elva, flustered, rose to her feet. “Ms. Camille,” she corrected, her voice a soft tremor.
Camille’s gaze swept over the woman before her. She had expected the grand dame of the Chambers family to be an epitome of sophistication and brashness. But the reality was quite different.
Elva was d in a simple white power suit with her hair pulled back into a neat chignon. Despite the impable makeup, it couldn’t mask her pallor and the weariness in her eyes.
“Mrs. Chambers, please take a seat,” Camille offered, her voice even.
She hade with a grudge against the Chambers Group but seeing Elva, the anger just wouldn’t surface. Instead, she decided to wait and see what card Elva would y.
“Ms. Camille, I know it’s quite presumptuous of me toe unannounced, but I really need your help to design an evening gown,” Elva pleaded urgently. “Money is no object. Whatever others can offer, I can double, triple it. I just need you to make a dress for me. Please,”
“Mrs. Chambers, I’m just a designer, Camille chided gently, noting how Elva’s hands trembled around her teacup, her eyes zed over. “But you should know, ever since my studio opened, we’ve operated strictly by appointment. No one can bypass this rule.”
She was interrupted by a sudden, soft thud Elva had copsed to her knees!
–
“Mrs. Chambers! What are you doing?” Camille eximed, rushing to help her up.
As she pulled Elva to her feet, Camille’s eyes caught sight of bruised and bloodied skin beneath the sleeve that had ridden up – a sight that struck her to the core.
Memories of her mother enduring humiliation and abuse at the hands of the man who called himself her father shed before Camille’s eyes.
“I must get a dress from you because only a creation by you can truly stand out. No one else’s work is even worth considering,” Elva said, her b*dy trembling, her voice choked with unshed tears. “If you refuse me<b>, </b>I’ll stay on my knees right here<b>!</b><b>” </b>
“Please, <b>don’t </b>do this. Stand up and let’s talk,” Camille said, her voice hoarse as she tried to maintainposure. “I’ll help you, let’s take your measurements. Perhaps I have something ready–to–wear that would suit you.”
Gratitude <b>filled </b>Elva’s reddened eyes as she clung to Camille’s hand. “Thank you, truly, thank you so much.”
<b>With </b><b>the </b>studio staff and assistants dismissed, it was just the two of them. Camille took Elva’s measurements and <b>selected </b>three gowns that matched her status and poise.
<b>“</b>Mrs. Chambers, what do <b>you </b><b>think </b>of these three? If they’re not to your liking, I can find others<b>,” </b>Camille offered.
Without much consideration, Elva clutched a forest green gown close, as if fearing Camille might change her mind. “No trouble at <b>all</b>, this one will do. It’s perfect<b>.</b><b>” </b>
Camille’s heart clenched <b>at </b>the sight of Elva’s strained demeanor. “Ready–<b>to</b><b>–</b>wear isn’t as perfect as bespoke. <b>They </b><b>might </b><b>need </b>adjustments. Why don’t <b>you </b><b>try </b><b>it </b>on and I’ll make the alterations right now?”
Hesitantly<b>, </b>Elva <b>stepped </b><b>into </b><b>the </b>fitting room.
As Camille waited, <b>the </b><b>past </b>horrors swirled in her <b>mind</b>, unsettling her. <b>She </b>grabbed <b>a </b>bottle of ice<b>–</b>cold water <b>from </b>the <b>fridge</b>, gulping it down <b>to </b>quench the inner <b>turmoil</b>.
A sudden thud from the fitting room <b>jolted </b>her.
*Mrs. Chambers? Are you alright? Mrs. Chambers?<b>” </b>Camille called <b>out</b><b>, </b>her <b>voice </bced with <b>panic</b>.
When no answer came, she feared the worst and broke <b>into the </b>room.
“Mrs. Chambers!” <b>she </b>cried out.
Elva had fainted, half–dressed, revealing a back marred by old bruises <b>and </b>fresh wounds.
Within seconds, Camille covered Elva <b>with </b>her <b>own </b>jacket<b>, </b>gently lifting her <b>up</b>, and pinching her head <b>to </b>revive <b>her</b>.
<b>“</b>Mrs Chambers, wake <b>up</b>!”
Elva’s eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused
<b>09:30 </b>
Camille, her voice filled with urgency and concern, asked, “Mrs. Chambers, what happened to you? What are these marks?”
Tears streaked down Elva’s face as she turned away, unable to face Camille’s piercing gaze.
“Are you being abused? Is Matthew hurting you?” Camille’s eyes zed with barely contained fury.
“Ms. Camille, that’s my personal business, please, don’t ask,” Elva said, struggling to dress herself as she prepared to flee. “I’ll transfer the money for the dress, and my assistant will pick it up. Thank you for your trouble.”
As Elva moved to leave, Camille shouted after her, “Mrs. Chambers! Domestic abuse will never stop once it begins! You know better than anyone the humiliation and pain you’ve been enduring all these years! Do you really want to spend the rest of your life with a man worse than a beast? How much longer can you endure? Do you want to end up dead?”
“What choice do I have?” Elva burst out, herposure shattered. “Right now, I can at least survive. But if I resist, there’s only death waiting for me!”
“Bullshit!” Camille spat, her voice hoarse with emotion. “Not fighting back is the real dead–end! Mrs. Chambers, there’s still time to turn things around, if only you would…”
The door mmed shut before she could finish her sentence.
Camille stood frozen, her expression a mask of anger and indignation. A thought began to form in her mind amidst the tumult of
emotions.
Elva’s car had barely rolled out of the studio’s front yard when another luxury sedan arrogantly pulled in, parking right in front of the vi, flouting all semnce of decorum despite the clearly marked spaces.
“Oh my God, mom, what kind of dump has this little witch picked out? It’s so out of the way, the drive here was a total nightmare!”ined a woman stepping out of the car, dressed in a pinkce dress that screamed suburban chic. Her eyes were full of disdain.
It was Camille’s half–sister, Eunice Evert.
“It’s because the real estate’s dirt cheap around here. That penny–pinching brat is probably saving up for her own wedding gift or something,” followed a plump, middle–aged woman with a pinched face and eyes that seemed perpetually arched in disapproval. It was Eunice’s mother, Mrs. Evert. “This so–called ‘renowned designer‘ is just a title she’s given herself,ying the groundwork to snag a wealthy husband. As if anyone reputable would want her once they know about her illegitimate background. To marry her? It would be a stain on the family’s reputation, utterly humiliating.”
“Hey, mom, you hit the nail on the head!”
Eunice’s perfectly sculpted eyebrows drew together in dissatisfaction. “But I don’t get it, why didn’t we hire a better designer for my engagement dress? Our family can certainly afford it. Why settle for this little witch? It’s such bad luck.”
“Ah, my dear, you don’t see the bigger picture,” Mrs. Evert said, linking arms with her daughter. “Your father has built up quite the fortune because he knew when to save and when to spend. Having Camille design your dress is not only utilizing her skills, which would otherwise be a waste, but it’s also a test of obedience from your father, to remind her of her ce in the Evert family. Even though she shares the name, she’ll always be beneath you, destined to y second fiddle.”
With these schemes in mind, the duo grandly entered the gates.
“Hold on, do you have an appointment?” the assistant immediately stepped in to block their path.
“An appointment? Since when do small–time shops like this need appointments<b>?</b><b>” </b>Eunice scoffed, rolling her eyes in disdain.
The assistant’s brows knitted together, and her demeanor turned frosty. “Without an appointment, Designer Evert will not meet with you. Mrs. Chambers of the Chambers Group just came by without one, and even she was turned away.”
The Chambers Group?
The Everts exchanged startled looks, their minds racing.
People from the Chambers Group, one of the top families, wereing <b>to </b>this little upstart’s shop for designs? Could <b>it </b><b>be </b>true<b>? </b>
Though the Everts had some assets, they were like antspared to the <b>might </b>of <b>the </b>Chambers <b>Group</b>.
“We are Camille’s family. Just let her know that her family is here to see her, and she’lle down,” Mrs. Evert said<b>, </b><b>resorting </b>to revealing their identity when they failed to gain entry.
“Ah, in that case, I certainly cannot let you in,” the assistant said with an icy nce. “I’ve been with Designer Evert for years, and I’m well aware of her situation. Besides, Designer Evert has already stated that she has only one living mother. As far as she’s concerned, her other rtives are as good as dead to her.”
Mrs. Evert’s face turned an angry shade of crimson.
“Dead to her? How dare that little witch!” Eunice couldn’t contain her fury<b>, </b>insults spilling out of her mouth uncontrobly<b>. </b>
Suddenly, a chill wind seemed to blow from behind them, apanied by the sound of measured, heavy footsteps.
They whirled around to see a man in amanding ck suit, his presence undeniable, eyes sharp and piercing.
Eunice stared at him, her heart pounding wildly. He was so handsome it made her want to scream. Her fiancé, whom she’d always bragged about, paled inparison to this man’s sheer presence.
“May I help you?” the assistant asked, puzzled.
Arnold’s icy gaze swept over Eunice, who had just spoken out of turn, making Mrs. Evert hold her daughter even closer.
After a brief moment, Arnold turned his attention back to the assistant, the corners of his l*ps lifting slightly. “Earlier, I’dmissioned Ms. Camille for a couple of suits. She informed me they were ready for collection.”
With that, he turned on his heel, gracefully seating himself on a nearby couch, crossing his legs and watching the spectacle unfold before him with the air of someone enjoying a theater show.
“Please proceed with your work. Attend to my business once you’re done. There’s no rush.”