“Fine, suit yourselves.” Sheridan’s tone was stiff, his pride stung by Jamison’s public rebuke. Without another word, he took Emma’s arm, ready to lead her away.

At the same moment, Ivy slipped her hand into Jamison’s arm, the two of them preparing to step past Emma toward the lounge on the side of the hall.

As they brushed by each other, Emma took advantage of the shifting crowd to draw closer to Ivy, her movements so subtle that no one noticed. With a practiced hand, she reached out, aiming to tug at the delicate butterfly detail on Ivy’s dress.

But before Emma could pull it off, Ivy suddenly felt something catch around her foot. As she stepped forward, her movement was arrested, and she lurched forward, nearly losing her balance.

“Careful!” Jamison reacted instantly, catching her before she could fall.

At that exact moment, Emma felt her own dress yanked sharply away from her chest.

“Ah!” A sudden chill washed over her as her bodice slipped free, and she shrieked, instinctively crossing her arms over her exposed chest.

Jamison had just stabilized Ivy, still baffled as to what had tripped her, when Emma’s scream rang out. Both he and Ivy turned at once–only to see Emma standing there, her dress in disarray, desperately clutching at herself in a futile attempt to cover up.

For a split second, the entire hall froze. Then, a shocked murmur swept through the crowd.

Some of the men, who had already been leering all evening, now stared with unabashed glee.

“Ivy! You stepped on my dress! You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” Emma was both mortified and furious, her face draining of color as she whipped around to see Ivy’s stiletto heel pinning down the hem of her gown. She erupted, shouting accusations with wild eyes.

Ivy stared at her in confusion, only now glancing down to spot her own heel tangled in the fabric of Emma’s dress, pulling it away as she’d taken a step.

What were the odds…?

She had assumed she’d caught her own dress and nearly tripped herself. Who could’ve guessed she’d actually snagged Emma’s?

A few bystanders rushed over, crouching down to untangle the skirt, but the shimmering fabric was firmly caught on Ivy’s slender heel–yanking it free would only rip Emma’s gown further.

“Sheridan, what are you waiting for? Give me your jacket!” Emma’s cheeks burned scarlet; with both hands pressed desperately to her chest, she couldn’t risk moving to fix her dress. She could only shout at her fiancé.

Sheridan snapped into action, hurriedly stripping off his suit jacket and draping it over Emma’s shoulders.

But it was too late. All around, phones were already out, flashes flickering as guests captured Emma’s humiliation from every angle.

Rosetta arrived in a flurry, rushing to shield her daughter with the jacket, her voice trembling with anger. “What happened? How does a dress just fall off like that?”

“It was Ivy! She did it on purpose!”

Jamison knelt down, deftly removing Ivy’s heel and carefully freeing the delicate threads from Emma’s gown.

Seeing his wife blamed, Jamison’s gaze turned icy. “Miss Emma,” he said coldly, “don’t make baseless accusations. Do you have any proof?”

The words echoed back at Emma–he had used her own retort from earlier, turning it against her with perfect timing.

“Do I need proof? Everyone saw it! She stepped on it!” Emma’s voice was raw, her eyes brimming with tears.

There was a world of difference between choosing to bare some skin and being exposed against your will. As the focus of tonight’s event, Emma had been humiliated in front of everyone–she would never forget this.

Ivy slipped her shoe back on and, steady once more, looked Emma in the eye. “Emma, you were walking on the other side of the room. Why did you suddenly veer over here when you left? Why did you get so close to me? Were you planning another one of your little stunts to set me up?”