Chapter 4

The next afternoon, Hayden pushed open the doors to the Vera Wang boutique for the second time in twenty-four hours.

She looked entirely different today. She wore a sharp, tailored black blazer over a silk camisole, her hair pulled back into a severe, sleek ponytail. Her makeup was flawless, her lips painted a deep, intimidating crimson.

In her right hand, she carried a large paper cup from a nearby artisanal café. It was a dark roast black coffee, freshly poured and scalding hot. The heat seeped through the cardboard sleeve, warming her palm.

She bypassed the manager at the front desk and walked straight up the stairs to the VIP section.

When she reached the top, she saw Brielle.

Brielle was sitting on a plush velvet sofa, flipping through a bridal magazine. She was here under the guise of being a "helpful intern," a sick arrangement Bernhard had orchestrated to satisfy his twisted need for thrill.

Brielle looked up. When she saw Hayden, she immediately slapped on a bright, syrupy smile. She jumped up from the sofa.

"Mrs. Cunningham! You look absolutely stunning today."

Hayden looked at Brielle's face. She saw the fake innocence in her wide blue eyes. She felt a powerful urge to hurl the boiling coffee directly into that face.

She forced her fingers to tighten around the cup instead. She offered a tight, closed-mouth smile.

"Thank you, Brielle."

Hayden walked over to the sofa and sat down. She deliberately placed her left hand out of sight, hiding the red, raw skin where her engagement ring used to be.

The store manager hurried over, followed by two assistants. They were carefully wheeling out a mannequin draped in a protective garment bag.

They unzipped the bag and pulled it away.

The dress was a masterpiece. It was a custom Vera Wang ballgown, hand-stitched with intricate French lace and thousands of tiny Swarovski crystals. It cost more than most people made in a decade.

The crystals caught the light, throwing a dazzling display across the room.

Hayden watched Brielle out of the corner of her eye.

Brielle's breath hitched. Her eyes widened, and for a split second, the mask slipped. Pure, unadulterated greed and jealousy flashed across her face.

Hayden's lips twitched into a cold, predatory smirk.

She stood up. She walked over to the dress and ran a finger over the delicate lace. She let out a heavy, theatrical sigh.

"It's beautiful," Hayden said softly. "But I've been under so much stress lately. I've lost weight. I don't think the bodice is going to fit correctly."

The manager immediately panicked. "Oh, Mrs. Cunningham! We can take your measurements right now. We have our head seamstress on standby-"

Hayden held up a hand, cutting her off.

She turned slowly and looked directly at Brielle.

"Brielle," Hayden said, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness. "You and I are exactly the same size. Why don't you try it on for me? I need to see how the skirt moves when someone walks."

Brielle froze. Her eyes darted between Hayden and the dress.

The vanity and the sheer vanity of the request warred in her head. The desire to wear the million-dollar gown won instantly. A sick thrill lit up her eyes.

She feigned hesitation. "Oh, Mrs. Cunningham, I couldn't possibly. This is your vow renewal gown..."

Hayden took a step closer. Her voice dropped, losing the sweetness. It became a hard, undeniable command.

"Go put it on, Brielle. That is an order."

Brielle swallowed hard, nodding quickly. She followed the two assistants into the massive fitting room.

Hayden walked back to the sofa. She sat down. She picked up her coffee cup. The heat was still radiating through the cardboard.

Ten minutes later, the fitting room door swung open.

Brielle stepped out.

The dress fit her perfectly. The lace hugged her waist, and the massive skirt billowed out around her like a cloud. She walked over to the three-way mirror.

She couldn't hide her joy. She spun in a slow circle, a massive, triumphant smile spreading across her face. She looked at her reflection like she was the one marrying the billionaire.

Hayden stood up.

She held the coffee cup in her right hand. She walked slowly across the carpet.

Click. Click. Click.

Her heels sounded like a countdown.

She stopped right behind Brielle. She looked at Brielle's reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were dead, devoid of any human warmth.

"It really does fit perfectly," Hayden said softly. Her voice was like ice cracking over a frozen lake. "It's almost like it was made for you."

Brielle beamed, turning around to face Hayden. "Thank you so much, Mrs. Cunningham! It feels like a dream-"

Hayden flicked her wrist.

She tilted the cup forward.

The steaming, unpleasantly hot dark brown liquid shot out of the cup in a violent arc.

It hit Brielle dead center in the chest.

The dark roast coffee splashed violently against the pristine white lace. It soaked instantly into the delicate fabric, spreading like a massive, ugly bruise across the bodice and dripping down onto the tulle skirt.

Brielle let out a blood-curdling scream.

The hot liquid seeped through the thin fabric, stinging the delicate skin on her chest. She stumbled backward, clutching at the ruined dress, her face twisted in agony and shock.

The manager shrieked. The assistants covered their mouths in horror. Chaos erupted in the VIP suite.

Hayden didn't flinch.

She calmly dropped the empty paper cup onto the floor. It rolled against Brielle's foot.

Hayden looked down at the sobbing, ruined girl.

She raised her voice, making sure every single person in the store could hear her.

"This dress is filthy," Hayden said, her voice echoing off the walls. "It disgusts me. I don't want it anymore."

She didn't wait for a response. She turned on her heel and walked toward the stairs, leaving the wreckage behind her.