Chapter 114

Cassandra nearly choked on her laughter when Evelyn emerged in the outfit she'd picked out.

The hideous floral dress looked like it had been salvaged from a rural thrift store.

Cassandra seethed with jealousy at Evelyn's natural beauty—her flawless skin, those striking features, all untouched by makeup. If she didn't sabotage Evelyn's appearance, that wretched face would steal the spotlight—and worse, catch the eye of some wealthy elite.

Just like Nathaniel Grayson had in his office. His gaze had lingered on Evelyn far too long.

Cassandra had despised that face since childhood. Seeing Evelyn dressed like a peasant soothed her bitterness.

"Not bad, right?" she drawled, smirking. "I picked it just for you. You're wearing this to the party."

Evelyn studied her reflection. "Thanks. It's charming."

The makeup artist stifled a snicker, whispering to Cassandra, "She actually thinks it looks good!"

Cassandra's lips curled. "Country upbringing equals country taste. Jessy, do her makeup—something subtle but not too flattering. I can't be seen with an embarrassment."

"Leave it to me."

Jessy smirked, dabbing excessive blush across Evelyn's cheeks, dotting fake freckles, and twisting her hair into childish braids. The result was absurd—a caricature of rural simplicity.

Cassandra approved.

Now, no man would spare Evelyn a second glance.

The Silver Moon Estate was New Capital's most exclusive venue, reserved for society's elite. Money couldn't buy an invitation—only status could.

Uniformed attendants greeted guests at the entrance with polished smiles.

Cassandra strode forward in her designer gown, heels clicking, and presented her invitation.

"Welcome, Miss Whitmore. Enjoy your evening." The attendant gestured inside.

Then she blocked Evelyn. "I'm sorry, ma'am. No entry."

Evelyn blinked. "I'm with her."

The attendant eyed Evelyn's frumpy attire skeptically. "This isn't the kind of event where gatecrashers blend in. Leave, or I'll call security."

Cassandra savored the moment before sighing dramatically. "Oh, let her pass. She's my assistant."

The attendant hesitated, glancing between the elegant socialite and the dowdy girl.

Why would someone like Miss Whitmore employ such a disaster?

"Very well," the attendant relented, though her disdain for Evelyn remained.

Evelyn followed Cassandra inside, unbothered.

The ballroom was a vision of opulence—crystal chandeliers, gilded arches, a live pianist weaving melodies through the air. Luxury dripped from every corner.

Cassandra's breath caught. She'd only ever seen places like this in films, and even those sets paled in comparison.

Then she noticed Evelyn staring, too.

Pathetic.

She sneered. "Overwhelmed? Of course you are. Without me, you'd never step foot in a place like this."

Evelyn smiled faintly, lost in memory.

Nathaniel had dragged her here once before—for a wedding she hadn't wanted.

Three months of freedom, gone in an instant.