Chapter 9

Eyra’s POV

I turned my head at the sound of her voice and saw a woman walking toward me, staring intently at me.

“Take your hands off it,” she snapped, then brushed my hand aside. “That dress is the only one of its kind in the world. It was custom-made for a famous model.”

“A famous model? Who?” I asked.

Mr. Wynter didn’t go into detail about this dress, but there’s no way he wouldn’t know which dress I was referring to in my text message earlier.

“Um… I don’t remember, but let me check. Please wait here and don’t touch anything. If you damage even one dress, you might not be able to afford to replace it,” she said, causing me to let out a heavy sigh as I glanced down at my outfit.

Indeed, no one would believe if I said that I’d spoken directly with Mr. Wynter, their boss, who said I could choose any one of the dresses—whichever one I liked. And I never expected to find the dress I’d sketched myself—one that had been lost for so long.

If I told them I’d once been a world-famous model, they wouldn’t believe me, given how I look now.

This is who I’ve been day in and day out for the three years I’ve been married to Dave. No name, no title, unrecognized, and ostracized.

Dave has indirectly turned me into someone completely different, to the point where I no longer recognize myself—including the fact that I am Selene Noir, one of the world’s top models who was even once known as “The Style Goddess” because whatever I wore was sure to become a global trend.

Now, all of that is gone, and ever since I met Mr. Wynter, I’ve felt a longing for those days.

I miss walking the runway, on the red carpet, under the spotlight and camera flashes, receiving praise and admiration—and most of all, not having to endure the condescending stares I face now.

“They didn’t write her name here, but I remember clearly that this dress isn’t for just anyone. It says here, ‘For The Fashion Goddess who will shine again after emerging from the darkness.’ He’s already adjusted the size, too. Look,” she said, pointing to the text on the tablet screen in his hand.

That’s right. That’s exactly what was written in my sketch design. That’s why the color used is charcoal with a sprinkling of Swarovski crystals on top. It’s exactly like my design, and knowing just how detailed the craftsmanship is, I felt moved and wanted to thank Mr. Wynter and everyone who brought that sketch to life.

“So, you’d better step back and pick one that’s the cheapest and fits your budget,” she said again, pushing me aside. “I don’t want this dress ruined because of you. You won’t be able to replace it.”

“But, Mr. Wynter—”

“Mr. Wynter? You call him by his name so calmly? Is he your brother? Or your boyfriend, that you dare to call him so casually?”

What? What am I supposed to call him, then? Alpha North? I don’t even know which pack he lives in or leads.

The clerk then picked up a tool—whatever it was—and started moving it back and forth over the dress. I just watched from a distance, letting out a heavy sigh and intending to leave.

“That dress is mine.” A voice made me and the store clerk turn around. Elara stood in the doorway looking glamorous, stepping closer and stopping near the dress. “This dress must be for me, the famous model, Elara Smith. Right?”

The clerk straightened her back, eyeing Elara from head to toe with her jaw nearly dropping. Admiration shone in her eyes, and she immediately moved closer to Elara.

“You said you’re Elara Smith?” she repeated. Elara nodded. “You’re back? We haven’t seen you in three years, and everyone said you’d disappeared. Some even said you were... dead.”

Elara glanced at me with a wry smile and said, “Elara Smith never dies, never fades. She’ll keep shining, even from afar.”

The clerk nodded in agreement.

“I’d like to try on that dress,” she said then.

“All right, I’ll get it ready for you, Miss Smith. Please wait a moment.”

The clerk quickly left and returned with several other clerks, carefully removing the dress from the mannequin, then preparing everything needed.

Since I was certain I wouldn’t have another chance to own that dress, I turned away and decided to browse the others that I might be able to buy with my own money.

The clerk was right. I wouldn’t have been able to buy that dress if it weren’t for Mr. Wynter’s help. And with this turn of events, clearly, there was nothing more I could do.

I couldn’t very well whine and complain to Mr. Wynter, could I?

“See? They still recognize me even though I’ve been gone for so long. Meanwhile, you...” Elara walked toward me and gave me a condescending look. I just chuckled. “Is something funny?”

“No. You’re right. They recognized you as soon as you said you were a top world model,” I replied, and she responded with a furrowed brow. “Anyway, I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Elara. Is that dress really for you?”

“What?”

I shrugged. “No, nothing. It was just a random thought. You can ignore it. We’ll know if the dress is right for you or not later when you try it on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know?” I asked. “Mr. Wynter is a meticulous businessman. He always produces luxury dresses in small batches—why? Because he tailors them to the wearer’s measurements.”

Elara snorted haughtily. “Bullshit! You mean, you just called him an ordinary tailor, is that it? One who sews custom-made clothes after taking measurements? You must be out of your mind to call him that. You don’t know him at all, yet you act so know-it-all.”

“Well… maybe I am a know-it-all. Yeah, you’re the one who knows best. So…”

“Please, Miss Smith,” said one of the staff members who had been handling the preparations for Elara, successfully cutting me off. “I’m sure this dress will fit you perfectly.”

“Of course. Because I’m the lucky model chosen to receive this special gift,” she said, glancing in my direction. She said no more, but stepped into the fitting room, while I went back to what I’d been doing.

I want that dress so badly, and Mr. Wynter seems to have prepared it for me, but...

“Where is the dress that’s supposed to be here?” asked the employee who had greeted me at the front—who appeared to be the store manager. Several employees approached, and one of them looked as if she was about to say something. “Go ahead.”

After hearing what one of the employees whispered, she turned to me. “Haven’t you tried it on yet, Miss?”

I shook my head. “Not yet. Someone else wants it, so she’s trying it on right now.”

Her expression changed instantly. She turned to the others, who could only look down. She then said something not directed at the employees, but at me.

“I hope you’re willing to wait. We’ll take care of this.”

I nodded and let her go. I caught a glimpse of a brief exchange between her and another employee who was now heading toward the fitting room. However, I ignored it all.

Before long, Elara emerged from the fitting room wearing the dress. My gaze was fixed on her as she walked with confidence, strutting as if she was on a catwalk, trying to show me that she was the one who deserved that dress.