Inside the exclusive Parisian couture bridal boutique on Fifth Avenue, the custom wedding gown I had waited six months for was currently being worn by the A-list actress, Savannah Sterling. The boutique manager stood trembling, breaking out in a cold sweat as she looked at Tristan Thorne sitting on the velvet sofa. Tristan stood up and personally adjusted the train of Savannah’s dress. His tone was casual. "She’s missing a finale gown for her red carpet event next week. What’s the big deal if she borrows it? Just pick out an off-the-rack dress to make do for our wedding. Don't make a scene." Under the boutique's spotlights, Savannah smiled brilliantly into the mirror. I looked at my own reflection. I was wearing simple street clothes, looking completely out of place in this opulent room. Suddenly, the wedding I had spent an entire year planning felt like a ridiculous joke. I didn't yell. I didn't throw a fit. I simply slid the diamond engagement ring off my finger and set it gently on the glass coffee table. "You're right, Tristan. Off-the-rack dresses are perfectly fine. So, I’ll just find a groom who’s willing to marry me in an off-the-rack dress." …… The air in the bridal boutique instantly grew heavy. Tristan’s hands froze on Savannah’s train. He slowly turned around, his eyes narrowing behind his gold-rimmed glasses, subjecting me to a cold, calculating gaze. "Victoria, what did you just say?" His voice was heavy with dark warning. I looked at his handsome face, and my stomach churned with nausea. "I said, the wedding is off." My voice was dead calm. "Pfft—" Standing in front of the mirror, Savannah suddenly covered her mouth and giggled. She lifted the diamond-encrusted train of the gown that was supposed to be mine and walked over to me. "Victoria, don't be so petty," Savannah blinked, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "Tristan is just worried because I don't have a show-stopping dress for the film festival next week. This gown will reach its maximum commercial value when I wear it on the red carpet." "You're usually so supportive and understanding. Why are you being so unreasonable at a critical time like this?" She called him by his first name with an intimate familiarity that made my skin crawl. I glared at her icily. "Take it off." Savannah acted terrified, shrinking behind Tristan with tears welling in her eyes. "Tristan, Victoria is so mean. She’s scaring me." Tristan immediately shielded Savannah behind him, his brows knitting together in a deep frown. He took a long stride toward me, his eyes filled with impatience. "Victoria, are you done throwing your little tantrum?" He used that uniquely condescending tone of his, spitting words meant to cut deep. "Savannah is my company's cash cow. Giving her the best resources is for the sake of our future home. You’re a housewife who doesn't even work. Who exactly are you trying to show off to in a $3 million dress?" His entitled tone felt like a slap to the face. Five years of silent sacrifice, and in his eyes, it all boiled down to: Who are you trying to show off to? I took a deep breath, my hands clenching into fists. "Tristan, this is a custom-made gown I waited six months for. You decided to lend it out without even asking for my opinion?" Tristan sneered, thoroughly unbothered. "Ask your opinion?" He closed the distance between us, his towering figure casting a shadow over me. "I paid $3 million for this dress! The clothes on your back, the things you use every day—what haven't I, Tristan Thorne, provided for you?" "And now you want to talk to me about your opinions?" He poked my shoulder hard with his index finger. "Victoria, learn to be grateful. Don't think that just because I indulge you, you can act like a brat in front of me." Looking at the arrogant, narcissistic man standing before me, he suddenly felt like a complete stranger. He genuinely didn't think there was anything wrong with giving away his fiancée’s wedding dress. To him, I was just an accessory that depended on him to survive. I was too exhausted to argue with him anymore. I turned on my heel and headed for the boutique’s exit. "Stop right there!" Tristan barked. He lunged forward and grabbed my wrist in a vice grip. "Tristan, let go!" I gasped, a sharp pain shooting up my arm. Instead of letting go, he yanked me violently against his chest. He lowered his head, his voice dropping into a menacing whisper by my ear. "Victoria, don't push your luck." "Be a good girl. Go pick out an off-the-rack dress, and the wedding happens next week as planned. As long as you behave, after Savannah walks the red carpet, I’ll rent out a private island and throw you an even bigger wedding to make up for it." "But if you dare walk out that door today..." He paused, his eyes turning vicious. "I promise you, not a single bridal boutique in New York City will sell you a single thread." Enduring the throbbing pain in my wrist, I looked up and stared dead into his eyes. "Tristan, you absolutely disgust me." Using every ounce of strength I had, I ripped my hand out of his grasp. A harsh red bruise had already formed around my wrist. Without giving him another glance, I turned and walked away. Behind me, I heard Tristan's arrogant scoff, followed by the heavy mechanical click of the boutique's double doors locking. Click. I turned around. Tristan stood inside, casually tossing the electronic key fob he had just taken from the terrified manager. He looked at me through the thick glass, a cruel smirk playing on his lips. "Victoria, I told you. Without my permission, you aren't going anywhere." I banged my fist against the glass. "Tristan! This is illegal confinement! Open the door!" "Confinement?" Tristan strolled back to the velvet sofa and sat down, elegantly crossing his legs. "I’m just teaching my fiancée some manners." Savannah leaned over, resting her head on his shoulder, and shot me a triumphant, mocking smile. "Victoria, just stop fighting it. Tristan is doing this for your own good. A massive storm is rolling in, and you won't even be able to get an Uber out there." Right on cue, Tristan pulled out his phone and dialed a number right in front of me. "Freeze all of Victoria Vance's authorized credit cards." "Revoke all her VIP hotel privileges." "Notify every black car service and rideshare platform in the city. If anyone dares to pick up Victoria Vance, they are making an enemy out of Thorne Industries." Hanging up the phone, he tapped his knuckles against the glass door. "Victoria, your pride is completely worthless." "Without me, you couldn't even find a place to sleep in this city. I'm giving you two hours to reflect on your behavior." "When you figure it out, you can kneel outside the door and beg me." The sky quickly darkened. Gale-force winds whipped down the avenue, and a torrential downpour soon followed. The freezing rain soaked right through my thin clothes, chilling me to the bone. I stood shivering under the narrow awning outside the boutique. I pulled out my phone. My lock screen was flooded with notifications. [Dear Customer, your credit card has been frozen by the primary account holder...] [Sorry Ms. Vance, your rideshare request has been forcefully cancelled by the system...] Tristan wasn't bluffing. He was leveraging his corporate power to completely isolate me. He wanted to force me into a corner so I would remember my place as his property. I ground my teeth together, scrolling through my contacts. I refused to surrender. I dialed my best friend, Chloe Carmichael. "Chloe, come pick me up. I'm outside the bridal boutique on Fifth Avenue." On the other end of the line, Chloe's voice was choked with sobs. "Victoria... I'm so sorry..." "Tristan just called my dad. He threatened to cut off Carmichael Enterprises' supply chain if I came to get you. My dad locked me in my room... Victoria, please, just apologize to him! Tristan has lost his mind!" My heart sank into my stomach. Tristan had ruthlessly severed my very last lifeline. Through the rain-streaked glass, I watched Tristan sipping a glass of expensive red wine. He swirled the crimson liquid, looking thoroughly entertained as he watched me shivering in the storm. Savannah was kneeling at his feet, playfully massaging his legs. The scene burned my eyes, but it also incinerated whatever lingering affection I had left for him. I finally realized my mistake: you don't go looking for treasure in a dumpster. Tainted trash is only meant to be thrown away. I took a deep, freezing breath and shoved my numb hands into my pockets. If no one was coming for me, I would walk back. I turned around and stepped directly into the freezing downpour. SCREECH! Before I could take three steps, a black Maybach slammed on its brakes right in front of me, splashing a wave of muddy water onto my legs. The window rolled down, and Tristan's executive assistant stepped out holding a black umbrella. He looked at my drenched, pathetic state with utter disdain, and threw a plastic garment bag right at my feet. Through the half-open zipper, I saw a cheap, poorly-stitched white bridesmaid dress. The assistant stared at me coldly, his tone dripping with fake charity. "Ms. Vance, Mr. Thorne is feeling merciful tonight." "Savannah needs an assistant to hold her train on the red carpet at the film festival tonight. Mr. Thorne said that as long as you put on this dress and assist Savannah, your credit cards will be unfrozen tomorrow, and he’ll still save a spot for you at the wedding." He wanted me to carry the train for the woman who stole my wedding dress? And he expected me to wear this cheap rag to do it? It was a blatant, calculated humiliation. I stared at the garment bag in the mud. My body was convulsing from the cold, but my spine remained ramrod straight. "Go back and tell Tristan Thorne..." "Tell him to go straight to hell." The assistant's face flushed with anger, and he pointed a finger right at my nose. "Victoria Vance, don't be a fool!" "Do you think you're still the future Mrs. Thorne? You are nothing! Without Mr. Thorne, you'd be starving in the streets!" He waved his hand, and the rear doors of the Maybach swung open. Two massive bodyguards jumped out, pinning my arms behind my back. "Let me go! What are you doing?!" I struggled wildly, but my freezing muscles were no match for them. The assistant snatched the muddy bridesmaid dress from the puddle and shoved it forcefully into my chest. "Mr. Thorne gave the order. If you want to do this the hard way, we drag you there!" I was violently shoved into the back of the car, and the doors slammed shut. The Maybach sped through the stormy streets, heading straight for the film festival's red carpet event. The AC in the car was blasting. Wearing soaked clothes, my lips turned a bruised purple, and my teeth chattered uncontrollably. The assistant sat in the passenger seat, sneering at me through the rearview mirror. "Ms. Vance, if you had just behaved, we wouldn't be here." "You're a woman. Just lower your head, act soft, and you get whatever you want. Why insist on fighting Mr. Thorne? You're the only one suffering." I closed my eyes, tuning out his pathetic monologue. Half an hour later, the car pulled up to the backstage VIP area of the red carpet. I was roughly yanked out of the vehicle by the bodyguards. In a brightly lit VIP lounge nearby, Savannah was wearing the custom bridal gown that was meant for me, surrounded by a swarm of reporters. Tristan stood impeccably dressed by her side, looking at her with fawning adoration. Catching sight of me being manhandled toward them, Tristan excused himself from the press and strode over. He glanced at the mud-stained bridesmaid dress in my trembling hands, his brow furrowing. "Why do you look like such a mess?" He took off his tailored suit jacket and tried to drape it over my shoulders, sliding effortlessly back into his fake, affectionate persona. "Victoria, you're just too stubborn. If you had just been a good girl, do you really think I'd have the heart to make you suffer like this?" My stomach heaved with revulsion. I twisted my body, dodging his touch. The expensive jacket fell into a muddy puddle on the floor. Tristan's expression darkened instantly, his eyes turning lethal. "Victoria, my patience has a limit." He pinched my chin, forcing me to look up at him. "Go to the bathroom and put that dress on right now. When Savannah steps onto the red carpet, you will walk behind her and hold her train. If you dare ruin this for her..." He let out a dark chuckle, reaching into his pocket and pulling out an emerald bangle. It was the only heirloom my late grandmother had left me! "Tristan! Give that back!" I panicked, lunging forward to grab it. He held it high above his head, his eyes devoid of mercy. "Hold the train, and I’ll give it back." "Otherwise, I’ll smash it into pieces right now." My grandmother had placed that emerald on my wrist on her deathbed. It was the last piece of my family I had left in this world. Tristan’s fingers tightened slightly around the jade ring. One slip, and it would shatter against the concrete floor. "I’ll count to three." Tristan looked down at me like a god judging a mortal. "Three." "Two." My whole body shook. My nails dug so deeply into my palms that they drew blood. "One." "I'll do it!" The words ripped through my throat, my eyes stinging with unshed tears. Tristan smiled in satisfaction. He slipped the bracelet back into his pocket and patted my cheek mockingly. "Good girl. Go on. Savannah is up next." Clutching the mud-stained bridesmaid dress, I walked into the venue's restroom. Staring at my miserable, drenched reflection in the mirror, my eyes grew colder than ice. For the past five years, to protect his fragile male ego, I had hidden my true identity as the ruthless founder of a top-tier venture capital firm. I willingly stayed at home, playing the quiet, supportive woman behind his success. I thought I had fallen in love with an ambitious, driven man. I didn't realize I was just feeding a selfish, rabid dog. Tristan Thorne, for every ounce of humiliation you forced on me today... Tomorrow, I will make you pay for it with the entirety of Thorne Industries. I didn't put on the bridesmaid dress. I shoved it directly into the trash can. Pushing open the restroom doors, I walked straight toward the red carpet staging area. Savannah had her arm linked through Tristan’s, preparing to step out to the cameras. Seeing me walk out in my soaked, muddy street clothes, Tristan's face turned livid. "Victoria Vance! Are you deaf?!" he hissed furiously. Savannah immediately put on a distressed pout. "Victoria, how could you do this? Without you holding the train, the visual impact of this gown is going to be ruined." I stared at them with dead, empty eyes. The camera flashes from the red carpet were already blindingly bright. The announcer's voice echoed, calling Savannah's name. Ignoring Tristan completely, I turned and walked toward the exit. "Grab her!" Tristan ordered, abandoning all pretense of public decency. The two bodyguards lunged at me, one of them kicking me hard behind my knees. Thud! Caught off guard, I crashed down onto the unforgiving concrete. A sharp, blinding pain shot through my kneecaps. Staff members and journalists nearby turned their heads. Several cameras flashed in my direction. Tristan marched over to me, his eyes merciless. Right in front of the press, he pointed his finger at my face. "Ladies and gentlemen of the press, I deeply apologize," he announced, his voice carrying clearly over the chatter. "This woman is a low-level assistant at my company who has been harboring delusional, inappropriate fantasies about me. She broke into the backstage area today to cause a scene and try to sabotage Savannah’s red carpet walk." "Security, drag this lunatic out of here. Don't let her pollute the venue any longer!" The crowd gasped. Countless cameras documented me kneeling in the dirt. He was trying to completely annihilate my dignity. The bodyguards violently hoisted me up by my arms and dragged me toward the exit, hauling me out into the torrential storm. Tristan wrapped his arm around Savannah's waist, looking at me one last time. "Victoria, this is what happens when you disobey me." "Sleep on the streets tonight and think about what you’ve done."
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