Chapter 53: The Milan Dress
Ivy booked the Milan designer because jewellery could be refused, but a wedding dress sounded like destiny.
Destiny, she had learned, was harder for frightened men to cancel without looking cruel.
The designer appeared by video from a white studio filled with silk, sketches, and obedient assistants.
Ivy sat in Serena’s blue sitting room, wearing pearls she had been told not to touch.
Julian stood near the fireplace, checking his phone every few seconds as if time owed him mercy.
Gerald waited by the door with a notebook and the patience of an undertaker.
This is only a consultation, Ivy said, before anyone accused her of buying anything.
Consultations have deposits, Gerald replied. Deposits have payment sources.
The designer smiled professionally, because distance made discomfort easier to sell.
Ivy leaned toward the screen. I want something unforgettable. Modern, royal, clean, impossible.
Julian closed his eyes. We are not discussing a wedding dress today.
Yes, we are, Ivy said. The world already knows Serena is leaving.
The world knows many inaccurate things, Gerald said from the door.
Ivy turned so fast one pearl earring trembled. Are you part of this appointment?
No, Miss Chen. I am part of the house.
The designer’s smile became smaller, which meant the exchange had crossed borders and still embarrassed everyone.
Julian stepped closer to Ivy. End the call.
No. She took the house from me in front of servants.
It was never yours, Julian said, too tired to protect the old lie.
The sentence hung there, worse than shouting, because even he heard it clearly.
Ivy’s face changed, then hardened into performance. She lifted her phone and began filming the screen.
First bridal meeting, she announced. Some women get replaced. Some women get chosen.
The designer blinked but kept smiling, because luxury survived many kinds of vulgarity.
Serena saw the clip eleven minutes later in her flat, where Martin had brought the Morley draft.
She is choosing a wedding dress before the divorce is final, Martin said.
Before paternity is resolved, Serena added, placing the phone beside the sealed lab file.
That made the room colder, because the dress had suddenly entered another category.
Not vanity only. Not spending only. Public representation, relationship assertion, and reliance on disputed status.
Priya created a new evidence section: Prospective Marriage Claims.
Serena almost disliked the title for sounding absurd, then remembered absurd things still ruined careless people.
How much? she asked. Martin checked Gerald’s note. Initial design estimate: three million euros.
Serena looked up. For a dress? For a story, Martin said.
At Whitmore House, the designer asked about the ceremony date, and Ivy looked at Julian.
Spring, Ivy said. Julian said nothing.
She pushed harder. After everything is settled, of course.
Everything had become a large word, too large for the room and far too large for Julian.
The designer requested a deposit to reserve the design team and Italian fittings.
Julian said no before Gerald could lift his pen.
Ivy’s livestream caught it, cleanly, publicly, with the designer’s polite face still on screen.
No? she repeated, making the word sound like betrayal.
No deposit, Julian said. No dress. Not today.
The comment stream began feeding on the moment before Ivy could close it.
Is he backing out? Where is Serena? Is the divorce even done?
Ivy ended the call with shaking fingers and accused Julian of humiliating her.
Julian looked at her phone and saw the damage had already left the house.
You humiliated yourself in three countries, he said.
Gerald recorded the consultation end time, deposit declined, and public claim preserved.
In Serena’s flat, Martin saved the clip beside the car and necklace files.
Ivy had wanted the dress to prove she was the future.
Instead, by dinner, the future had a timestamp, a declined deposit, and six hundred witnesses asking why Julian looked terrified.
Serena closed the folder and said, Keep everything. One day she will deny all of this.