The fashion gala had finally arrived.
Since Rachel was attending, she left work early that afternoon to get ready.
This was a major fashion event, so everyone was being extra careful about their appearance–no one wanted to make a fool of themselves.
For such an important occasion, Rachel was especially meticulous. After all, she now had another identity to consider.
Ronan had already delivered the gown in advance. When Rachel saw it, she was completely satisfied–Ronan always knew exactly what worked best for her.
She went to the styling studio for hair and makeup, then changed into her gown before heading directly to the gala venue.
The fashion gala was being held at a luxury hotel in Manhattan. When Rachel arrived, night had fallen, and brilliant lights illuminated the building like a glittering palace.
A red carpet stretched from the hotel entrance all the way to the main ballroom.
Rachel took a deep breath, adjusted her dress, and stepped gracefully out of the car.
The gown Ronan had chosen was stunning–a champagne–colored one shoulder evening dress with clean lines and luxurious fabric. Delicate crystals adorned the waist like scattered stars against silk.
Her makeup was sophisticated but understated, her hair loosely curled and cascading over one shoulder. The overall effect was quietly elegant.
As Rachel entered, she noticed guests mingling in small groups, chatting quietly. The air was filled with the subtle scent of expensive perfume and champagne.
This truly was a fashion gala–glamorous and buzzing with energy
Rachel spotted some familiar colleagues and was about to join them when a sharp voice cut through the chatter.
“Rachel? What the hell are you doing here? Do you even know what kind of event this is?”
Rachel turned to see Joanne standing there with her usual bratty, entitled attitude.
Not that it was surprising to see her here–Joanne was Manhattan socialite royalty, after all.
Rachel looked at her with mild amusement. “This is a fashion gala. I’m wondering whose little bitch got off her leash and is yapping in here.”
“Excuse me? Who are you calling a bitch?” Joanne snapped, immediately catching the insult.
“Whoever just barked back at me, obviously,” Rachel replied smoothly.
She wasn’t the same pushover who used to let the Hale women steamroll her. Back then, she’d put up with their crap because they were Jasper’s family, but they’d just gotten worse, thinking she was some kind of doormat.
Now they were still acting like they owned the world–it was pathetic.
Where the hell did all this superiority come from anyway?
Rachel couldn’t be bothered with their drama.
But Joanne’s attention quickly shifted to Rachel’s dress. Her eyes narrowed–if she wasn’t mistaken, that dress was a TuBaci custom piece.
How the fuck could Rachel afford that?
TuBaci was every socialite’s holy grail–the absolute pinnacle of high–end fashion. Each piece was one–of–a–kind, insanely expensive, and required months or even years on a waiting list
Chapter 114
Joanne was obsessed with TuBaci and had tried countless times to score a commission, but had never succeeded. She wasn’t alone–other Manhattan heiresses would practically kill for a TuBaci original.
Owning one was serious status symbol territory.
Joanne couldn’t wrap her head around Rachel wearing a TuBaci custom gown.
“That dress…. is it actually TuBaci?” Joanne couldn’t help asking, her voice dripping with skepticism and jealousy.
Rachel glanced down at her gown with a casual smile. “Yeah, it is. Why, you jealous?”
