Chapter 203: You Call That Custom?

There’s no way Wyatt would give Yunice a lake gown. If Yunice was humiliated, that would mean Wyatt humiliated himself too.

Elsie was certain the gown she wore was the real one. Standing firm in that belief, she suddenly felt a tug at the small of her back. Whipping around, she saw a girl pulling a loose thread from her dress.

The girl laughed like she’d discovered buried treasure. “Wow, this is a first—custom couture with dangling threads?”

Elsie clutched the back of her dress, her face burning. She knew that truly expensive gowns were custom-tailored, handmade, and completely one-of-a-kind. What’s more, formal gowns were only ever worn once in public. Which meant only one gown could be real—hers or Taylor’s.

But hers couldn’t possibly be fake. She defended herself, “That thread must’ve been left by the tailor during alteration.”

She had barely finished the sentence when the others around her started laughing. The girl holding the thread scoffed, “All I know is, custom gowns are made to fit. Who alters a dress and leaves a thread hanging? Still want to claim it’s not fake?”

The others chuckled, while Taylor gave her a look like she wasn’t even worth the effort and turned to leave the embarrassing scene. The same girl flung the thread aside and said, “Don’t let people like this dirty the Powell family’s place.”

“Paul,” Elsie turned to Paul, panic rising in her voice. “You know this gown isn’t fake, right?”

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she looked at Paul with heartfelt desperation. Taylor’s expression darkened. She had already tolerated Elsie this much, and she still dared flirt with Paul.

Taylor stepped forward, but Paul extended an arm to stop her, though his eyes stayed on Elsie. Dressed in a crisp white suit, he looked composed and elegant as he said, “For my sake, please don’t make this difficult for her.” Then he waved a server over. “Take Ms. Elsie to the inner lounge to rest?”

“Hold,” Taylor snapped, narrowing her eyes at Paul. “What was that supposed to mean? Just because I haven’t made him angry yet, he thinks he can test my limits?”

She blocked Elsie’s path, arms crossed, face inches away. “So you’re saying her dress is real, and mine’s the fake?”

Paul was cornered, silently pleading with Taylor using his eyes. She understood him perfectly—so many people were watching: give me some face. Let this go. If Elsie’s humiliated, it reflects badly on all of us.

But Taylor wasn’t falling for it. If she let Elsie walk away today, she’d be the one humiliated. Paul was supposed to be her husband. And now he is openly protecting another woman? How am I supposed to hold my head up?

Pretending not to see Paul’s signals, she lifted her hand. Alan immediately stepped forward and handed her a tablet. Taylor held it up. “This gown was designed and hand-stitched by Peter himself. It’s the only one of its kind in the world.” She displayed the designer’s sketches and her fitting photos, then tossed the tablet back to Alan with a sneer. “So tell me who did you hire to rip off this design?”

Paul panicked. “Rip off? What do you mean…” Then he realized what mattered and quickly corrected himself. “Who said I gave her that gown?”

Taylor pressed, “If you didn’t give it to her, then what gives you the right to claim hers is genuine?”

Elsie’s eyes welled up. She looked pitiful. “Taylor, please don’t be mad at Paul. I know you don’t like me. If you’re upset that I wore the same dress, I’ll take it off, okay?” She actually started tugging at the dress.

Her pale cheeks flushed red, eyes teary with a touch of stubbornness—a look that caught the attention of every man with a hero complex in the room.

“Don’t take it off!”

“Maybe it really was just a mistake. She’s young and didn’t know better. Ms. Taylor, let it go.”

“She’s already apologized. She clearly doesn’t want to cause trouble. Can’t you give her a break?”

Elsie’s voice trembled. Tears spilled onto the floor. “Taylor, I really didn’t do it on purpose. I just wanted to look nice. That’s why we ended up in matching dresses. Please forgive me, okay?”

Paul frowned and leaned toward Taylor, muttering, “She’s already apologized. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

A man beside them echoed, “Yeah, look at her. She’s crying, her dress is all messed up. Let’s not make things worse for her.”