Chapter 1 - THE BLUE DRESS
The mansion was quiet at three o'clock in the afternoon.
I stood in the laundry room, pressing the heavy linen napkins for the engagement dinner, my mind running through the math I couldn't escape.
My mother’s hip surgery had drained our savings. Her rent was due in two days. If I didn't get my Friday paycheck, she would be evicted.
I carefully folded the last napkin and carried the stack upstairs.
When I passed the hallway leading to the family wing, I heard a quiet, muffled sound.
Like someone crying.
I stopped. The door to thirteen-year-old Abigail Moretti’s bedroom was slightly ajar.
I nudged it open just an inch.
Abigail was standing in front of her full-length mirror. She was wearing a pale-blue bridesmaid dress. The bodice was pinned tightly, pulling uncomfortably across her ribs.
She wasn't looking at the mirror. She was looking at the floor, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand.
On the bed sat Vanessa Bellini, her father’s fiancée.
Vanessa was scrolling through her phone, not even looking at the little girl.
"Stop crying, Abigail. It’s unflattering," Vanessa said smoothly. "And crying won't make the zipper go up."
"It fit last week," Abigail whispered, her voice trembling.
Vanessa sighed, tossing her phone onto the mattress. She stood up, walking slowly around the little girl like a shark circling a boat.
"Things change, sweetheart," Vanessa said. "Your father is a very important man. The Bellini and Moretti families are uniting. There will be photographers at this wedding. Magazines. Do you want them to take pictures of you looking... swollen?"
Abigail flinched. She wrapped her arms around her stomach.
"I'm not swollen."
"Then why doesn't the dress fit?" Vanessa asked innocently.
I knew why it didn't fit.
Because two hours earlier, I had seen Vanessa hand the blue dress to the estate's seamstress, Mrs. Whitaker, with strict instructions to take the waist in by two full inches.
I wanted to push the door open. I wanted to tell Abigail the truth.
But Vanessa was going to be the new lady of the house. And my mother needed her apartment.
"Take it off," Vanessa ordered. "And put on your school clothes. We have guests arriving in three hours."
Abigail nodded, her chin trembling. "Yes, Vanessa."
"And Abigail?"
The little girl stopped.
Vanessa reached into her designer purse and pulled out a soft yellow measuring tape. She draped it over Abigail’s vanity chair.
"I'll be taking this down to dinner tonight," Vanessa said, her voice dropping to a cold whisper. "To remind you of what’s at stake. If you can't fit into the blue dress by Saturday, my niece will be walking down the aisle with your father."
Abigail’s breath hitched. "But Daddy promised—"
"Your father is busy," Vanessa interrupted. "He doesn't want to deal with a child who can't control her appetite. So tonight, you will sit at the table. You will smile. And you will not eat a single bite of dinner. Do you understand?"
Abigail looked at the yellow measuring tape.
A tear slipped down her cheek.
"Yes," she whispered.
Vanessa smiled, a cold, empty expression. "Good girl. Emily!"
I froze. She had seen my shadow in the hallway.
I pushed the door open, keeping my eyes lowered. "Yes, Miss Bellini?"
Vanessa pointed to the yellow measuring tape. "Bring that down to the dining room before the first course. And make sure Abigail's plate is cleared before the food is served."
My throat tightened. I looked at Abigail, who was staring at the floor, absolutely defeated.
"Yes, ma'am," I whispered.
Vanessa walked past me, leaving the room.
I stepped inside. Abigail was struggling to reach the zipper on the back of the tight blue dress. Her fingers were shaking.
"Here, sweetheart," I said softly. "Let me help."
I gently unzipped the dress. As it loosened, Abigail took a deep, shuddering breath.
"Miss Emily?" she whispered.
"Yes, honey?"
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a small, silver bracelet. It was tarnished, with tiny little engraved flowers. I knew it had belonged to her mother, Caroline, who had passed away three years ago.
"Do you think my mom would be disappointed in me?" Abigail asked, her voice breaking.
My heart shattered.
I knelt down, looking her right in the eyes.
"Your mother would think you are the most beautiful girl in the world," I said fiercely. "And so does your father."
Abigail looked away. "Vanessa says I embarrass him."
Before I could answer, the heavy oak door creaked.
Luca Moretti stood in the doorway.
He had just come home from the office. His suit jacket was slung over his shoulder. He looked tired, but his eyes immediately softened when he saw his daughter.
"Hey, Abby," he smiled.
Abigail immediately stepped back, hiding the silver bracelet behind her back. She forced a smile. "Hi, Daddy."
Luca frowned slightly, noticing her red eyes. "Are you okay? How was the final fitting?"
Abigail swallowed hard. She looked at me, terrified.
And I realized she wasn't just afraid of Vanessa. She was terrified of losing her father's love.
"It was fine," Abigail lied, her voice shaking.
Luca looked at the measuring tape in my hand.
"I'll see you at dinner, sweetheart," he said softly, though his eyes lingered on the tape.
May you like
Hours later, the engagement dinner began. I stood by the wall, holding the yellow measuring tape, watching a thirteen-year-old girl desperately hide a single dinner roll under her napkin just to survive the night.
And then, Vanessa made her move.
