NovelEnglishChapter 184
Sylvia had barely stepped through the door when she noticed that Freya, who had been tailing her earlier, had
vanished into thin air.
It seemed Freya, fearing a confrontation, had opted for a disappearing act. No doubt she planned to reappear
later, playing the role of the concerned friend, shifting the blonto Sylvia while leaving her to face the fallout
alone. But Freya overlooked one thing: in her absence, Sylvia now had full control of the narrative.
Facing Eloise's husband, Sylvia offered a polite smile. "Thank you, but | think | need to clear the air."
Eloise's husband glanced nervously to the side before quickly interjecting, "No need for explanations. | trust
you."
His statement, though seemingly casual, carried undeniable implications.
"No, not to you. | need to explain to Ms. Eloise. The dress I'm wearing... it's a knockoff," Sylvia admitted, cheeks
flushing with embarrassment as she faced Eloise. "I apologize for the misunderstanding. I've always admired
you, and | guess | tried to emulate your style. But as an intern, | simply can't afford the real thing, so | resorted to
buying a cheap imitation."
To drive her point home, Sylvia tugged at her collar, revealing no label.
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The brand she was accused of mimicking was known for patenting its care labels, making it nearly impossible for
counterfeits to replicate them.
Knowing this, Sylvia had removed the label in the restroom.
"I bought this dress but was too scared to wear it. It's been sitting in my bag. | only put it on because my dress
got dirty, and | had no other choice," she explained, effectively defusing the tension in the room.
After all, if her intention had been to provoke Eloise, why would she admit to wearing a fake? Sylvia framed
herself not as a challenger but as an adoring fan, subtly elevating Eloise's status in the process. Eloise's
expression softened considerably. "You know, if you really like my style, you could've just asked me," she said
with indulgent warmth, her grace winning over the room.
Sylvia apologized. "I won't do it again. A fake is a fake, and, honestly, the fit isn't right. I'll be more careful in the
future.”
Just then, Christine approached with a brisk pace. "That doesn't look like a fake to me. Did you remove the label
on purpose?"
Sylvia had been waiting for this. "Christine, have you ever bought anything from this brand? How would you
know what's genuine?"
Christine stumbled over her words, "I... | haven't, but you can't just claim it's a fake without proof, right?"
"Alright, let's look at the proof."
Sylvia pulled up her phone, displaying a detailed fake purchase history.
This clever maneuver was thanks to Naomi.
Before marrying Edwin, Naomi had
worked as a luxury brand sales
associate and knew several counterfeit sellers. These vendors often paid sales associates for product details to
create high-quality replicas, complete with fake
purchase histories.
With a single request, Naomi had secured Sylvia a flawless alibi.
After reviewing the evidence, Sylvia asked innocently, "Any more questions?"
Christine was at a loss for words.
Sylvia then turned to Bridget. "Ms. Simpson, happy birthday. Let's not let this little misunderstanding dampen the
Follow on Novᴇl-Onlinᴇ.cᴏmfestivities." Bridget forced a smile and urged the crowd, "Please, don't mind us. Let's continue the celebration."
Then, in a deliberate show for Sylvia, Bridget looped her arm through Rupert's. "Rupert, it's almost tfor
the cake. Shall we geove
"Sure."
His voice was deep and resonant, but Sylvia was too busy adjusting her shoes to notice the intense, brooding
gaze that lingered on her for a long moment before finally shifting away.
Just as she was about to breathe a sigh of relief, a man approached her with a glass in hand. "Ms. Lloyd, might |
have the honor..." "Sorry, I'm a bit tied up at the moment."
The gentleman departed, only for another suitor to take his place.
"Ms. Lloyd, when might you be free..."
"Apologies, I'm currently unavailable."
"Ms. Lloyd..."
"No."
By the seventh refusal, Sylvia's patience was waning when suddenly, Freya's call cthrough.
"Sylvia, why on earth did you say the dress was a knockoff?"
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