My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 09

My Reborn Ex Dumped Me Again. Joke’s on Him, I Married Better Chapter 09

The bridal atelier was located on the most expensive strip in the city. The entire building belonged

to the Harrington family.

When we arrived, the manager hurried forward. “Mr. Harrington, the gowns you ordered have

arrived. Six designs in total. They’re all upstairs.”

Dorian nodded and glanced sideways at me. “Let’s go up.”

The second–floor fitting salon was the size of a gallery. Six gowns hung in a row on standing dress

forms.

I walked past them one by one and stopped at the third.

The manager stepped forward. “This one is a limited edition from the couture collection. The only

one in the country.” Mr. Harrington had it flown in from Paris.”

I turned to look at Dorian. He stood by the window, phone in hand, appearing to read something.

He felt my gaze and looked up. “You like this one?”

“Yes.”

He pocketed his phone and walked over. He studied the gown for a moment, then turned to the

try

manager. “This one then. Keep the others. She can later at her leisure.”

“Of course, of course. Miss Vance, shall we do a fitting?”

I took the gown into the dressing room. The manager crouched at my feet, arranging the train, and

looked up at me with open admiration.

“Miss Vance, you look breathtaking in this. May I take a photo?”

Before I could answer, the curtain was pulled open

Dorian stood outside. The moment he saw me, his fingers curled inward slightly.

The manager discreetly stepped aside and surreptitiously lifted her phone for a shot.

Dorian walked over and stood before me.

“Beautiful,” he said.

I looked at myself in the mirror. The waistline of the gown was fitted to perfection. The scattered

crystals on the skirt glimmered under the lights like stars.

In my last life, that ill–fitting wedding gown had never hung right. No matter how I stood, there was always that hollow gap at the waist. I had to clutch the fabric to keep it from falling.

In this life, this gown looked as though it had been sewn onto her body. Not a fraction too loose,

not a fraction too tight.

Dorian pulled out his phone and took a picture of me.

I lifted my eyes to him, but he had already pocketed the device. He gave the manager an

impassive instruction. “Take the waist in another quarter inch. Add a lining to the skirt. The fabric

is too thin.”

The manager nodded rapidly.

After the fitting, Dorian took a phone call – something urgent had come up.

He had the driver take me back first and stood outside the atelier, watching the car pull away

before he turned to leave.

In the car, I leaned against the seat and closed my eyes for a moment.

My phone buzzed several times. I picked it up.

Celeste had posted to her social media.

A carousel of nine photos, all of her and Grayson in their wedding attire. The caption read: “Finally found you. My whole world.”

The photos were stunning. Grayson in a white tuxedo, Celeste in a cathedral–train gown. They stood in front of a church, fingers interlaced, smiling radiantly.

The post had already racked up over a hundred comments. All praise and adoration.

My mother commented: “My precious girl is so beautiful. Mommy loves you forever.”

My father commented: “Daddy’s little angel. Be happy always.”

Celeste replied with a blushing emoji.

I scrolled further and spotted a comment from a mutual acquaintance. “Celeste, that gown is

gorgeous! Custom, right?”

Celeste replied: “Yes, Grayson had it made just for me. One of a kind in the whole world.”

One of a kind in the whole world.

I locked the screen and tossed the phone aside.

Outside the window, dusk was settling. The streetlamps blinked on, one by one.