Love After Leaving: No Regret (Agnes and Raymond) novel Chapter 62

Love After Leaving: No Regret

Chapter 62 The Hundred–Million Dollar Dress

Finished

Someone piped up, “Speaking of–during dinner, I saw that woman making Neal cut her food and peel her shrimp.

“Her own husband was sitting right there! That woman has game–I’ll give her that.”

Gabrielle jumped right back in, her voice rising.

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it. She actually torpedoed the engagement between Raymond’s sister and Neal!”

“What?!!!!!!” The collective gasp could’ve shattered glass.

“Is she some kind of professionally trained seductress?

“Every man in the room wrapped around her finger! Actually… where do I sign up for that class?”

“I’d be locking my husband in the basement if this woman came within a mile of him. One look and it’s over.”

“Gabrielle–are you saying she and Neal are…?”

Gabrielle’s eyes widened dramatically. “Exactly what you’re thinking. She’s the ultimate shameless woman.

“She has a husband, and she’s still chasing Neal. I heard Raymond and Neal’s relationship has basically imploded because of her.”

“How does a person like that even exist? She should be exposed!”

“Shh–she’s coming.”

The pack fell silent just as Agnes approached.

She clearly wasn’t interested in lingering. She was scanning the crowd for someone.

She’d been looking for Neal to say goodbye—she was ready to leave this circus.

Gabrielle peeled away from the group and walked toward Agnes, a glass of red wine in hand. As she neared Agnes, her ankle conveniently rolled.

The wine splashed across Agnes’s dress in a vivid crimson arc.

“Oh no!”

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Minion Dollar Dress

Gabrielle’s face contorted into a mask of concern. “I’m so sorry! It was an accident!”

Agnes looked past Gabrielle. Behind her, Hillary’s clique was watching with open, undisguised glee.

She understood instantly. Hillary had been running her mouth, and now her fan club had come to deliver the punishment.

Agnes didn’t miss a beat. “No worries. You can just replace the dress.”

Gabrielle blinked–she’d expected Agnes to mumble “it’s fine” and absorb the humiliation in silence.

She hadn’t anticipated Agnes demanding compensation on the spot. But Gabrielle recovered quickly.

“I really am sorry–my ankle just gave out. Tell you what, take the dress off, and I’ll have it dry- cleaned for you.”

She reached over to a nearby rack, grabbed a hotel housekeeper’s uniform, and held it out to Agnes.

The women behind her dissolved into cackling.

Agnes didn’t take it. She knew exactly what Gabrielle was trying to do.

Her expression didn’t change. The smile stayed.

“I appreciate the offer, but this dress can’t be dry–cleaned.”

Gabrielle’s lip curled. “Oh? Is the fabric that cheap? Can’t even handle a cleaning? Aren’t you married to Raymond? He can’t afford to buy his wife a decent dress?”

Howls of laughter from the peanut gallery.

The women piled on.

“Gabrielle, Mrs. Newton probably comes from humble beginnings. She’s just being thrifty. It’s a virtue–don’t be mean!”

“Mrs. Newton, frugality is admirable, but you know who your husband is. If you go around in knockoff clothes, people will talk. Think of Mr. Newton’s reputation!”

“If you’d like, I have some last–season pieces I was going to donate.

“They’re all designer–no knockoffs, I promise.

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Hapier ozine Hundred–Million Dollar Dress

Finishes

Anyone who went to St. Austen comes from money. We can spare a few hand–me–downs.”

“Hey, don’t make it so hard for her. It’s a big jump in social class; she needs time to adjust. Slow and steady!”

One after another, they took turns, each comment a stiletto aimed at Agnes’s dignity. United in righteous fury: destroying the homewrecker.

Hillary stood in the center of the mob, savoring every second.

The more Agnes was humiliated, the more Raymond would be humiliated by association.

Everyone would think Raymond was blind for marrying such an unrefined woman.

Agnes was unhurried. She fixed Gabrielle with a look that could freeze lava.

“This is a couture gown valued at 100 million dollars. It’s made from heritage cloud–brocade silk, dyed with a high–altitude botanical extract that can only be harvested once every five

years.

“The embroidery is entirely handcrafted using high–grade shell–spun gold thread and peacock- feather filament.

“The technique is so intricate that a single misplaced stitch means starting over from scratch. The embroiderer completes roughly 0.08 inches per day.

“So tell me can this dress be dry–cleaned?”

The women who’d been howling with laughter a second earlier went dead silent. You could’ve heard a pin hit the marble floor.

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