Chapter 183

“Cindy!” a woman called as she entered the room. She walked in confidently, head high, still wearing her robe but with her makeup already done. A designer bag hung from one shoulder. She didn’t glance at Izzy, instead smiling at the short-haired woman and kissing both her cheeks.

“It’s been too long,” the woman said. “I’ve missed you.”

Izzy remained seated, watching.

The woman turned to Cindy. “I came to pick up the black dress, the one with the slit. You remember? It was supposed to be delivered to my dressing room an hour ago.”

Cindy took a small step back. “Miss Sarano. It’s good to see you.”

Of course. Cassandra Sarano. Actress. Drama queen. Izzy had seen her on TV and read about her, but this was their first meeting.

Cassandra waved a hand. “Lawrence DeWitt himself told me the dress was tailored for me. He said it would be perfect for tonight’s event. Imagine my surprise when it wasn’t there.”

Cindy clasped her hands. “I understand, and I apologize for the confusion. But the dress is already set aside for someone else.”

Cassandra blinked, finally noticing Izzy. Izzy, who had heard of Cindy, the famous Z’s designer and couture artist. Who knew Liam would let Cindy dress her tonight? Izzy met Cassandra’s gaze.

Cassandra narrowed her eyes. She knew actors from the US and Europe, but this woman wasn't one of them. Not a standout beauty suited for the media. A producer's wife? A politician?

Cassandra clapped her hands twice. “Everyone out,” she said.

The assistants exchanged glances but didn’t question it. One by one, they left. Only Cassandra, Cindy, and Izzy remained.

“I failed to ask your name,” Cassandra said, turning to Izzy.

“Isabella,” Izzy replied.

Cassandra smiled. “Isabella,” she repeated. “I’m Cassandra Sarano. You must’ve heard of me.”

“Yes,” Izzy said. “I have.”

Cassandra beamed. “Good. Then I won’t waste time. I want the black dress. I’ll compensate you, of course. And as a bonus, my autograph and an original CD of my upcoming single, signed.”

Izzy blinked and looked at Cindy, who shrugged, indicating Izzy could handle it as she wished.

Izzy turned back to Cassandra. “How much are you willing to pay?”

Cassandra smiled. “Ten thousand dollars. I can write a check now.”

Izzy didn’t blink. “Five million. In diamonds.”

Cassandra stared, unsure if she heard correctly. Then she laughed. “That’s funny. But really… who would pay five million for a dress?”

Izzy didn’t move. “You. You will, if you think it’s worth it.”

Cassandra’s face flushed. Five million? For a dress? Her eyes flicked to Cindy, who stood quietly, arms crossed, observing like it was afternoon entertainment. Cassandra narrowed her eyes.

Cindy was eccentric. Obsessed with patterns, stitching, and fabric flow, she’d turn down a millionaire for the wrong shoes at a fitting.

Still, Cassandra decided to try her luck.

“You know, Cindy,” she said, stepping closer, “you could get more attention partnering with someone like me. I could showcase your work on my socials. One post, it would go viral. Your name would blow up—again.”

In Cassandra’s mind, it was an obvious move. She glanced at Izzy, who hadn’t spoken, sitting as if she had something to prove. Cassandra didn't recognize her—not from events, business circles, or the entertainment industry. She scanned Izzy's face again. Nothing. No name.

A politician’s wife? Too low profile. She considered businessmen, CEOs, venture capitalists, startup founders. Nothing. No match. The woman had no identifiable backing. One possibility remained.

Mistress.

That explained it. Some small-time businessman with too much money and a midlife crisis, thinking he could buy relevance. Maybe he threw money at Cindy and asked her to “dress my girl” to get her seen. Maybe that’s why Cindy was playing along—just another job.

Cassandra looked back at Cindy, raising an eyebrow. “It would be a shame to waste your work on someone without the platform to show it off. Let’s be real. Who’s going to see it? A few friends at a dinner party?”

She tilted her chin. “You and I both know this dress deserves better.”

Cindy shifted. “The dress is adjusted to Isabella’s proportions. It won’t fit you.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened. “Then change it! You still have time.”

Cindy shook her head. “I can’t.”

“I’m wearing that dress,” Izzy said, standing. “And I’ll be the one wearing it tonight.”

Cassandra turned sharply to Cindy. “Do you even know who asked me to wear that dress? Who told me it was meant for me?”

“I do,” Cindy said.

Cassandra crossed her arms. “Then you should know who’s been supporting your recent shows, talking about your work to sponsors, and pushing your name to the press.”

Cindy didn’t respond.

Cassandra stepped forward. “Lawrence DeWitt likes your designs. He wanted me in that dress tonight. If I tell him you ignored a direct request, what do you think will happen? Do you want your next NYFW show canceled? You think I can’t make that happen?”