How To Style A Dress Like Diane Foxington'S Blue Dress?

I spent my whole life trying to be invisible. I was the girl who was too broken to survive high school, the one who tried to end it all after they had filmed themselves cutting off her hair. The girl who had to be homeschooled for eight years. So when my parents forced me into one final year of university, I made a deal with them. I'll give it a try, if I hated it, I'd disappear forever. I walked those halls with my head down, drowning in oversized clothes, praying no one would notice me. But then I met him. Dreyven. The one person who pushed me so far that I lost control and slapped him. ​But what I didn't know was that he had three identical brothers, and I had just started a war. ​They planned their revenge together: make me fall in love with them, one by one, thinking they were the same person, then break my heart and leave me destroyed. ​I gave him everything: my trust, my body, my heart. ​I thought I was falling in love with one perfect man who kept surprising me with new facets of his personality. ​When I discovered the truth, it shattered me. They were four brothers who had used me for revenge, four men who had passed me between them like a toy, four liars who had laughed while I fell apart. ​So disappeared. ​Five years later, I wasn't that broken girl anymore. I had built an empire. I knew their secrets. I knew their weaknesses. ​And I was going to destroy them the way they destroyed me. ​But revenge had a price and I had to learn that, ​some love stories are simple. But ours was written in scars, secrets, and second chances.

Alex Croft is gay and has pretty much hated himself for it. His plan is simple- to graduate high school and if he's lucky enough to gain admission into the college of his dreams, finally come out to his dad before getting shipped off to c

Three years as his fiancée, reduced to nothing more than a soulless trinket. No going out. No friends. No opinions. Every breath I took was measured against Leo's mood. For three years I obeyed him unconditionally, trying to warm the heart of this mafia tyrant. Then today, in the fitting room at the atelier, his adoptive sister Alice snatched my couture wedding gown right off the rack. She didn't even have the decency to do it behind my back; she walked straight into Leo's arms while I stood there watching. Leo barely glanced at me. Just patted her head and said, “It's just a dress. Let her have it.” Three years of patience, and that's what it came to. A joke. I looked at the two of them, that smug, triumphant, and I thought: Marciano, did you really think I wouldn't fight back?

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.

My fiancé, Skeet Fadley, stood with me at my dress fitting when his phone rang. "Skeet..." Her voice came through on speaker. That was all it took—I knew today's bridal photos weren't happening again. Skeet glanced at me, guilty. "Babe, something came up with Norah. I gotta go." Not a question. A notice. I stared at myself in the mirror, already in the gown, and gave a small nod. "Go." It's fine. My groom's about to change anyway.

On the flight to Arlencia, a post popped up: [What's it like to have sex in a wedding dress?] The pic showed a girl yanking some guy's purple tie while he hiked up her gown. His face was blurred, but hers? Straight-up blissed out. Everyone in the comments was swooning over how in love they looked. I didn't swoon. I froze. Because that purple tie? I gave it to Zeke Santoro, my fiancé, a few days ago. And that wedding dress? The exact custom one he had made for me. There was only one. I kept zooming in, heart racing, until I spotted a family photo in the background. My hands were shaking when I called him. "I wanna see the dress," I said. He hesitated. "It's at the studio getting final touches. Not with me right now. I'll show it to you later." I just smiled and hung up. That was all I needed. Zeke cheated—and the girl? His stepsister, Jella. Total circus. I reopened the post and shot her a DM: [Your wedding dress is stunning. I have the same one.]