Chapter 2
"Serena Herman, what is your problem?" Edward snapped.
His voice was cold and sharp, as if he were scolding a misbehaving child.
He went on, "Isabelle is just a small-town girl. She doesn't know the rules people like you play by.
"She said it was an honest mistake. Do you really have to go after her like this?"
The way he threw the phrase "people like you" at me felt like a knife to the chest.
We had been together for ten solid years, but suddenly, I was just a snobby outsider to him.
Isabelle was literally just a broke college girl he sponsored. They had known each other for less than six months, yet somehow, she was the one he was wrapping in his arms to protect.
"A mistake?" My voice came out raw and shaky. "Edward, look at the screen.
"Look at what it says about me.
"You are seriously standing there calling that a mistake?"
That disgusting deepfake was still flashing for everyone to see.
Hundreds of guests kept darting their eyes between me and the massive screen.
I caught people smirking behind their hands.
Others had their phones out to record the whole mess.
A loud wave of gossiping rippled through the crowd.
A voice a few feet away muttered, "Serena is never going to live this down."
Edward's face remained like stone.
He actually stepped in front of Isabelle to block her completely from my view.
"Serena," he argued. "I already sent security to cut the power to the screen.
"It happened. Just drop it and stop making a scene.
"Isabelle doesn't have a malicious bone in her body. She's just a broke student who wanted to do something nice for our wedding."
Isabelle peeked out from behind his back, looking at me like a frightened little deer.
But for a split second, I saw the mask slip and a tiny, smug smirk cross her face.
She wasn't terrified.
She was gloating.
"So you're claiming you don't know any Celorian, Isabelle?" I asked.
My voice went dead calm. "Last month, you literally won first place in the Celorian poetry slam at Jaronburg University.
"The story is still sitting on the front page of the university's website.
"And you expect me to believe you don't know the language?"
Her fake innocent act cracked for a split second.
But she bounced back fast, and the tears started flowing right on cue.
"I didn't recognize those specific words," she sobbed. "I thought it was just some trendy internet slang for being pretty."
"You didn't recognize them?" I interrupted.
Isabelle's mouth hung open, but no words came out.
Edward spoke up for her.
"That's enough, Serena," he snapped. "So what if she knew what the text meant?
"She's just a college student who borrowed a dress to help out tonight. What else do you want from her?"
The word "borrowed" echoed in my head.
My eyes shifted away from his face and finally locked onto Isabelle.
Pure rage shot straight to my head.
She was wearing a strapless, moon-white gown.
Elaborate roses and ivy vines were hand-embroidered across the fabric in real gold thread.
But the floor-length skirt had been brutally chopped off right above her knees.
The new hem was jagged and uneven, with loose gold threads just hanging there in a mess.
That gown was the very last gift my mother ever gave me.
After her terminal cancer diagnosis, she knew she would never get to see me walk down the aisle.
She dedicated the last three months of her life to hand-sewing that entire piece.
By the later stages, her hands shook so badly that several of her stitches came out crooked, and she had to rip them out and do them over.
The dress was so precious that I never even tried it on. It usually stayed safely locked inside a climate-controlled vault back at the Herman residence.
The only reason it was on this ship today was to serve as an emergency backup for my bridal gown.
Now it was on Isabelle's body, butchered into some cheap-looking mini dress.
"That dress," I demanded, totally unable to keep my voice steady. "Where did you get it?"
Isabelle immediately shrank back. "I... I spilled something on my outfit backstage.
"Edward said there were some spare dresses in the dressing room and told me to just grab whatever I wanted.
"The dress was dragging on the floor. I was scared of tripping, so I just cropped it a little."
"Just a little?" I repeated.
Bending down, I picked up a severed piece of the gold-threaded silk from the deck.
My fingers were visibly shaking.
"Isabelle, do you even know what you just ruined?" I demanded.
I whipped my head toward Edward. "You let her put this on?"
He loosened his tie, looking more annoyed than guilty.
"There was a ton of stuff hanging in that room," he scoffed. "How was I supposed to know which one she grabbed?
"It's literally just a dress. Are you seriously throwing a fit over this?"