Chapter 4 - THE DRESS SHE WANTED ME TO FEAR
Cassidy Vaughn arrived at my office carrying a garment bag.
She was thirty-two.
Blonde.
Beautiful.
And six months pregnant.
She smiled as though we were friends.
“Vivian.”
I looked up.
“Cassidy.”
She placed the bag on my desk.
“I brought you something.”
I stared.
“What?”
“A dress for the gala.”
I didn't move.
Cassidy unzipped the bag.
Inside was a silver evening gown.
Backless.
Deeply cut.
Designed to expose almost every inch of my scars.
She smiled.
“Isn't it gorgeous?”
I looked at the dress.
Then at her.
“Why are you giving me this?”
“Preston thought you might need help choosing something appropriate.”
I felt my stomach tighten.
Cassidy continued.
“Of course, if you're uncomfortable showing your back, you can always stay home.”
There it was.
The cruelty beneath the smile.
I stood.
“Thank you for thinking of me.”
Cassidy blinked.
“You're welcome.”
“But I'll choose my own dress.”
Her smile faded.
“Vivian—”
“And the dress code has been changed.”
She went still.
“What?”
I smiled politely.
“Didn't anyone tell you?”
Cassidy stared.
I continued.
“Guests may wear any formal gown they choose. Coverage is permitted.”
Her face flushed.
“Who authorized that?”
“Gideon Ashford.”
Silence.
Then Cassidy forced a laugh.
“Well, I'm sure he had his reasons.”
I nodded.
“He usually does.”
After she left, I sat down.
My hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From anger.
For years, I'd allowed people to make decisions about my body.
Doctors had to, during treatment.
Preston insisted on it afterward.
Now Cassidy had tried to turn my injuries into public entertainment.
I looked at the silver gown.
Then called a designer named Sofia Marquez.
I'd met her through a charity event.
“Sofia?”
“Vivian! How are you?”
I smiled.
“I need a dress.”
“What kind?”
I looked toward the garment bag.
Then answered:
“One that makes me feel like myself.”
Sofia invited me to her studio.
When I arrived, she showed me several gowns.
Elegant.
Beautiful.
Comfortable.
Then she asked gently:
“Would you prefer your back covered?”
I hesitated.
For a moment, I almost said yes.
Then I looked at the mirror.
“I don't know.”
Sofia nodded.
“That's okay.”
She smiled.
“We'll choose what makes you happy.”
Not what Preston wanted.
Not what Cassidy feared.
What I wanted.
I began crying.
May you like
Sofia quietly handed me a tissue.
And for the first time in years, I realized I was allowed to be beautiful on my own terms.
