Chapter 3 : The Dress of Doomed Camouflage

"My lady, all the pastel dresses have been returned to Celestine Dress Boutique," Hannah reported with a small, respectful bow.

"Good," Isha replied curtly, already turning toward the vast walk-in closet once more. She was determined to find something-anything-that would not scream "seductress plotting tomorrow's scandal" on the very day of her engagement.

But the deeper she rummaged, the more hopeless the situation became. Every gown seemed tailor-made for chaos and headlines.

The first was a midnight-black creation glittering with diamonds across the bodice. A daring sweetheart neckline plunged just enough to tempt scandal, while a thigh-high slit sliced up the left leg like an open invitation to sin.

The second was even more audacious: fiery crimson silk slashed with twin slits up both legs, a plunging V-neckline that defied gravity, and strategic cutouts along the waist that whispered promises of ruin. It practically screamed, Pick me. Ruin me. Let society gossip about me for weeks.

Isha pinched the bridge of her nose, a groan threatening to escape. "Why do all of Valeria's dresses look like they were designed solely to make men collapse at her feet? I want to survive the plot, not speed-run my own execution!"

Then, at last, her gaze landed on a peculiar garment shoved far toward the back of the closet. It looked wildly out of place among the shimmering silks and jewels-like a forgotten prop no one had bothered to discard.

The fabric was a limp, pale green that sagged sadly rather than flowed. It reminded her of dreary curtains in a neglected guest room. The neckline was a blunt, square cut, utterly devoid of imagination, as though someone had measured it with a ruler and called it fashion. The layered skirt was clumsy and heavy, folding awkwardly in on itself like hastily thrown bedsheets instead of cascading with graceful elegance.

And the colour... oh, the colour. What might once have been a soft, enchanting green now resembled watered-down paint-the kind you accidentally spill on the floor and immediately regret buying.

Among the gleaming arsenal of designer gowns, this dress was clearly the runt of the litter. Not a crown. Not a weapon. Not even a temptation. Just a failed, half-hearted attempt at beauty.

And that made it perfect.

Her lips curled into a triumphant smile. "Yes! Exactly what I need. If I wear this, no one will look at me twice. I'll blend into the background like faded wallpaper. Even the plot might overlook me-I already look like a walking fashion disaster!"

Satisfied with her genius reasoning, she added under her breath, "And if anything goes wrong, I'll just fake a sudden stomachache and escape early." She patted herself on the back, feeling absurdly proud, like a child who had just discovered the perfect hiding spot from household chores.

A short while later, Isha sat before the ornate vanity, carefully applying a muted rose lipstick. She was halfway through practicing her most dignified villainess smirk-tilting her chin, narrowing her eyes with cool disdain-when a sharp knock echoed through the room.

Her posture straightened instantly. Dropping her voice an octave lower, she commanded with regal authority, "Enter."

Hannah stepped inside, eyes lowered respectfully. "My lady... Master Adrian is here to pick you up."

"Master Adrian?" she repeated, careful to keep her tone cool and imperious even as surprise flickered through her.

Hannah bobbed a quick curtsy. "Yes, my lady. The Young Master arrived a few minutes ago and is waiting in the drawing room. Shall I tell him you will be down shortly?"

No - that can't be right.

Her head snapped toward the maid. In the original novel, Adrian Duclair had not appeared until much later - long after the original Valeria had spiralled into jealous madness and landed Seraphina in the hospital. He hadn't even bothered to show up at the engagement. Parents, yes. Brother, no.

So why was he here now?

Her pulse quickened, a sharp, frantic rhythm hammering against her ribs. If he was showing up early, did that mean the timeline was already shifting? Worse - what if he sensed she wasn't really his sister? What if one wrong word, one hesitant glance, exposed her as an imposter?

Panic bloomed hot and vicious in her chest, stealing her breath. She needed information. Fast.

"The phone," she said, turning to Hannah with forced composure. "Find my phone first. Then you may inform the Young Master I will be down shortly."

Hannah nodded, her gaze darting respectfully between Valeria and the vanity. "My lady..."

"Not now, Hannah. The phone."

The maid hesitated, then tried again, voice soft. "My lady-"

"I said go after you find it!" Valeria snapped, panic sharpening her words before she could stop herself.

She was already tearing through the room - mattress: empty. Under the bed: nothing. The bathroom: still no trace. Her heart pounded louder with every empty second.

"My lady," Hannah said gently, "your phone is on the vanity table."

Valeria froze mid-search, then whirled toward the maid, cheeks burning with embarrassment and lingering panic. "If you knew it was there, why didn't you tell me immediately?"

"I was trying to tell you, my lady," Hannah replied, eyes still lowered, "but you did not let me finish my sentence."

Valeria - or rather, Isha trapped inside her - smacked her forehead with the heel of her palm. Of course. Of course it was right in front of me the whole time. Brilliant detective work, bookworm. Ten out of ten.

"I... apologise," she apologize, forcing the words out with as much dignity as she could muster. "Anyway, go inform Master Adrian that I will be down shortly."

With the desperation of a starving child snatching the last piece of candy, she grabbed the phone like a sacred relic. Relief flooded her veins - until she swiped the screen.

No lock.

Her brows furrowed. "Why in the world does Valeria not have a lock on her phone?"

Not my problem right now, she decided, shaking her head. With a deep, steadying breath, she opened the contacts list and typed "Adrian Duclair."

...Nothing.

She tried again. This time she typed "Brother."

Still nothing.

Her jaw dropped. Has Valeria seriously not saved her own brother's number?

Unless... what if she had saved it under a nickname? But Isha had no idea what nickname they used.

Then a spark of genius struck. The family group chat!

She quickly searched for "Family Group"-and there it was. Tapping in, she checked the members list.

Her parents were saved simply as "Mom" and "Dad." Perfectly normal.

But her brother?

Her eyes widened at the contact name.

Narcissist Monkey.

She nearly burst out laughing right there on the vanity stool, but sheer force of will clamped her lips shut. Her shoulders still shook with suppressed mirth as she opened their chat history.

The first message was a photo: Adrian, bathed in golden morning light, posing like a runway model. The caption read:

"Look, your brother shines brighter than the sun."

Valeria's reply had been an eye-roll emoji followed by:

"Fun fact: you can never be as hot as the sun."

His response: a single crying emoji.

The next was a short video of a little girl, maybe four years old, pointing at him and begging her mother, "Buy him for my birthday!"

Adrian had forwarded it proudly: "See? Even kids want me."

Valeria's savage reply: "Kids love all animals. I'm not surprised they want you as a pet."

Isha snorted softly. Absolutely savage.

Scrolling further, she reached the most recent exchange:

Adrian: Val, my lovely sister!

Valeria: Come straight to the point.

Adrian: Can I have your face masks?

Valeria: No.

Adrian: Pretty please?

Valeria: Didn't you buy a year's worth of branded face masks last week? Why do you want mine?

Adrian: Because yours are better.

Valeria: No.

Isha leaned back, a wave of genuine relief washing over her. Okay... so their relationship is just normal siblings-at-each-other's-throats territory. She could handle that. All she had to do was act like a slightly annoyed younger sister.

Easy. Right?

...Right.

Reassured, she smoothed her hideous green dress one final time, took a last glance at her reflection-pale, unremarkable, perfectly forgettable-and thought with smug confidence: With this look, I will definitely deceive the plot.

Squaring her shoulders, she left the room.

As she descended the grand staircase, the click of her heels announced her arrival. Her eyes fell on Adrian Duclair, sprawled lazily on the velvet couch, scrolling through his phone with effortless confidence.

The sound made him glance up. The moment their eyes met, he smiled-really smiled. A dazzling, knock-you-dead, cover-your-eyes-before-you-fall-in-love kind of smile.

Isha froze mid-step.

Girl, your brother is handsome.Technically her brother now-but that was not the point. The point was: he was devastatingly handsome.

She shook her head, mentally slapping herself. No, no. Focus, Isha. This is not the time to simp over Valeria's brother. Survival first. Simping later-if at all.

Adrian rose gracefully and sauntered toward her. "Val, you still look less beautiful than me," he said smoothly, "but not that bad today."

Her eye twitched.

Correction: he is beautiful... but also a narcissistic demon in human form.

"For the record, Brother," she replied sweetly, "I can't say the same for you."

"What!" His pout was theatrical perfection. "You don't think I look handsome?" He struck a dramatic pose, one hand on his hip. "Take a good look again."

Isha shook her head, fighting a smile. "Nope."

His jaw dropped in mock betrayal. "Girls stop breathing when they see me-me, your own brother! And you think I'm not good-looking?"

"Then they clearly need to see an eye specialist," she retorted, rolling her eyes with practised sibling disdain.

Adrian's grin sharpened. He stepped closer-and flicked her forehead with surprising gentleness.

"Ow!" she yelped, clutching her head in genuine disbelief. Her wide eyes blinked like a betrayed hamster.

He flicked me! What is this, Itachi cosplay? Sorry, buddy, you're not even the Copy Ninja.

"Aren't you being a little rude?" she protested.

Adrian said innocently, "I am your older brother. You should respect me."

She mimicked his voice perfectly, complete with exaggerated tone. "I am your older brother, you should respect me." Tossing her hair, she added, "Come on, or we'll be late,Narcissist Monkey."

"'Come on, or we'll be late,'" he repeated mockingly, adding finger air quotes for extra drama.

Her jaw dropped. Did he just mock my mocking?

Then he leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing purr. "Careful, Little Fashion Disaster. If you keep insulting your handsome older brother, I might just leave you here to face the engagement alone."

Valeria's jaw dropped, a reluctant laugh threatening to bubble up despite the panic still fluttering in her chest. Little Fashion Disaster? Oh, he went there. Touché, Narcissist Monkey. Touché.

"Dream on," she retorted, looping her arm through his with feigned reluctance. "You'd miss me too much.

Adrian smirked, clearly pleased with his new nickname retaliation. "We'll see about that, Little Disaster."

Still, he extended his arm with theatrical gallantry.

After a brief hesitation, Isha looped her hand through his. On second thought... he's tolerable. Barely tolerable as a brother.

And together, they left the mansion, the heavy doors closing behind them with a soft, ominous click.

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To Be Continued

A/N:

Stay tuned-and please don't abandon me!

Also, a huge thank you to everyone for reading this book. ❤️

And take care.

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