Chapter 2

The Malibu estate buzzed. Music drifted from the grand ballroom, mingling with the scent of ocean air and expensive perfume.

Ava descended the main staircase.

Not in the Starlight. In the secret gown.

It flowed around her like liquid night, catching the light, making her skin glow.

Heads turned. Whispers followed her.

She saw her mother, Victoria, near the entrance, her eyes widening in admiration, then a flicker of confusion. Ava gave her a small, reassuring smile.

Ethan Vance, her fiancé, stood by the champagne fountain. He looked handsome, superficial, and slightly bored. He hadn't noticed her yet. Good.

Ava took a glass of water from a passing tray. She needed a clear head.

Then, the music swelled. A hush fell over the room.

Brooke Ashley made her entrance.

In the Starlight gown.

It was, Ava had to admit, beautiful on Brooke. The pale, shimmering fabric clung to Brooke's figure, the intricate beadwork catching the light. Brooke' s hair was styled perfectly, her makeup flawless. She looked like a princess.

She beamed, lapping up the attention, her eyes scanning the crowd for Ava, no doubt expecting a scene, tears, a tantrum.

Ava let her have her moment. Let everyone see.

Then, as Brooke glided towards the center of the room, Ava moved.

She stepped forward, her own gown shimmering, drawing all eyes.

"Brooke," Ava' s voice was calm, clear, carrying easily in the sudden silence. "That' s a lovely dress. The Starlight, isn't it? The one my father commissioned for me."

Brooke froze. Her smile faltered. Color drained from her face.

"Ava, I... I don' t know what you mean," Brooke stammered, her eyes darting around. "This designer... he made it for me."

"Really?" Ava raised an eyebrow. "That' s fascinating. Because the designer, Antoine, only makes one of each. And this one," Ava gestured to a small, almost invisible insignia near the hem of Brooke' s dress, "has his private mark, authenticated for Chenault."

She continued, her voice like ice. "And, more importantly, I have the security footage from my private dressing room, timestamped this morning, showing you, Brooke, entering without permission and removing that specific gown from its hanger."

Ava nodded to a discreetly placed large screen on the wall. It flickered to life.

Clear, undeniable footage. Brooke, furtive, snatching the Starlight gown.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Brooke stared at the screen, her mouth agape. "No! That' s... that' s not real! It' s fake!"

"Is it, Brooke?" Ava asked softly. "Or is this just another one of your performances?"

Ethan Vance suddenly surged forward. "Ava! How dare you! Brooke would never! You' re just jealous, a spoiled, entitled brat trying to ruin her night because she looks better than you!"

His face was red, his voice loud and accusatory.

Ava turned to him, her expression cold.

"Ethan, your loyalty to your distant cousin is... touching. If misguided."

She paused, letting her words sink in. "Or perhaps not misguided. Perhaps it's perfectly aligned with your family's current financial difficulties and your desperate need to secure a connection to the Chenault fortune through any means necessary."

Ethan recoiled as if struck. "That's a lie!"

"Is it?" Ava' s voice was silk over steel. "Check your father' s latest quarterly reports. Or should I have my CFO project them onto the screen as well?"

Ethan paled, speechless.

Brooke started to sob, big, theatrical tears. "Ava, why are you doing this to me? I thought we were friends! I just admired the dress so much... I only wanted to try it on..."

"Try it on?" Ava echoed. "At my 21st birthday gala? Without asking? And then lie about its origin? Please, Brooke. Your acting skills are better suited for the stage, not for real life."