Chapter 3 Her Wedding Dress Is Tried On

Sylvia glared at Clara, her voice sharp with fury.

Clara stood on the staircase, gazing down at Sylvia with undisguised contempt—the posture of a victor looking at the defeated.

"It's just a rag of a dress. If Nelson and I hadn't been so intense last night and he hadn't torn my clothes, do you think I'd bother with your shabby little outfit?"

Sylvia stood frozen, ice flooding through her veins.

As if to prove her point, Clara yanked at the neckline, tearing it open to reveal a sprawling canvas of hickeys beneath.

Layer upon layer—each one a stab to Sylvia's heart.

Clara wore a triumphant smile as she descended the stairs, leisurely. Gone was the fragile damsel act she put on for Nelson.

"You know what, Sylvia? I think you're pathetic. Clinging to a man who stopped loving you ages ago."

Sylvia fought to steady herself. She locked eyes with Clara, her voice cold. "Does being a mistress make you feel particularly proud?"

Clara's expression twisted—a nerve struck. "The one who isn't loved is the real mistress!"

Footsteps sounded from upstairs. Clara's eyes shifted. Without hesitation, she threw herself sideways toward the staircase.

"Ah!"

"Clara!"

Nelson rushed down the stairs at the sound. He caught Clara in his arms, voice tight with panic. "Clara, are you okay?"

Clara drew a deep breath, as if enduring pain. "Nelson, don't blame Sylvia. I just lost my footing."

She seemed to be defending Sylvia—but with one sentence, she'd already pinned the blame on her.

A flash of bitter irony crossed Sylvia's eyes.

The same old tricks.

Nelson's gaze turned razor-sharp as he glared at Sylvia. "I've been too lenient with you. You actually dared to lay hands on Clara."

Sylvia's expression was cold, her heart colder. "If I told you she fell on her own, would you believe me?"

Nelson's jaw clenched. "You think I'm a child? I only believe what I see! Now apologize to Clara. Immediately!"

Sylvia's hands curled into fists at her sides. Clara shot her a smug, taunting look.

"I'm not apologizing. And tell her to take off my dress!"

"You attacked Clara over a worthless dress?" Nelson had already made up his mind—it was Sylvia's fault. His tone dripped with disdain. "I'll buy Clara something prettier, something better. Any random piece will be a thousand times nicer than yours. Did you really think those sketches of yours were treasures?"

Nelson carried Clara upstairs.

Sylvia stood there, watching their retreating figures. She pressed a hand to her chest.

Hearing Nelson's words, she felt... nothing.

Was it because the pain had already gone numb?

Nelson soon returned with Clara, now changed. He flung Sylvia's dress to the floor with force.

"Nobody cares about your trash. Clara, we're going to the mall!"

The front door slammed shut.

Exhausted, Sylvia bent down and picked up the dress from the floor. The neckline was torn.

Just like the relationship she'd clung to for so many years.

Precious only in her eyes. But to Nelson? Garbage.

Without hesitation, Sylvia threw the dress into the trash.

Sylvia found Momo's body discarded in the back garden. After taking him to the pet crematorium, she emerged holding a small urn.

That was all that remained of Momo.

Sylvia pressed the urn tightly against her chest.

Momo, I will make them pay for this.

Back home, Sylvia went upstairs and pulled out her suitcase. As she headed to the bedroom to pack, she spotted torn stockings lying on the floor near the door.

Just as Clara had said—last night had been intense.

Momo's death. Her hospitalization after vomiting blood. None of it mattered more to Nelson than sleeping with Clara.

Sylvia squeezed her eyes shut and exhaled slowly.

After packing her things and carefully placing Momo's urn inside the suitcase, Sylvia called her best friend, Paige Morgan.

"Paige, do you have time right now? Can you come pick me up?"

Paige didn't hesitate. "Wait for me. I'll be right there."

After hanging up, Sylvia looked around the home she'd lived in for years.

Every piece of furniture, every decoration—she'd arranged them all herself, one by one.

She'd thought this was her safe haven. Until reality slapped her in the face.

Paige arrived quickly. Seeing Sylvia's pale face, she was startled.

"Why do you look so awful? Are you sick?"

Sylvia's voice was hoarse. "Momo is dead."

Paige froze. As her friend, she knew exactly what Momo meant to Sylvia.

"When did this happen? You just took Momo for a checkup a few days ago. Didn't they say his condition had stabilized?"

Sylvia's fists clenched. "Clara killed him."

Paige's eyes widened. After a brief moment of shock, she shot to her feet in fury.

"I always knew Clara was bad news, but I never thought she'd be cruel enough to hurt even a dog!"

Then another thought struck her. "Wait—where's Nelson? You need him right now. Don't tell me he's off with Clara?"

Sylvia nodded bitterly.

"That scumbag and his homewrecker—I'm going to settle this right now!" Paige bolted toward the door, but Sylvia grabbed her arm, exhaustion heavy in her voice. "Nelson's protecting Clara. We can't win against him."

"We can't just let this go! We have to get justice for Momo!"

Hatred flickered in Sylvia's eyes. "Of course we won't let it go. I'm going to make them pay in blood."

Paige nodded fiercely. "Exactly. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you—Mrs. Smith loved your designs from before you retired. She wants to commission you to design an evening gown for her."

Just as she finished speaking, Sylvia's phone rang urgently.

It was the bridal boutique.

"Ms. Granger, are you available right now? Another client is trying on your custom wedding gown, and we can't stop her..."