The mere mention of the "Yeats Family" was enough to make everyone flock to them. Even if the Yeats were to swear blind that black was white, no one else would give it a second thought.
People reasoned that this was the Yeats Family. What could Miss Yeats possibly lack? How could she wear a fake? If Miss Yeats said someone else’s dress was a fake, then it definitely was. Miss Yeats couldn’t possibly be wrong!
If this Miss Yeats were kind-hearted, wielding such absolute authority wouldn’t be a problem.
However, their brief encounter just now—Claire Yeats’ condescending attitude, her disdainful gaze, and her presumptuous behavior—told Estelle Lockwood one undeniable fact: this Miss Yeats was not easy to get along with, and she seemed to be intentionally targeting her.
Most importantly... a fake?
If the dress she was wearing was a fake, then there were no "authentic" pieces left in the world!
Because of her grandfather’s relationship with Ms. Winters, Estelle had specifically chosen this gown. It had been stored away for a decade, meticulously stitched together by her grandfather ten years ago.
From conception to design, from the initial sketches to the finished product, her grandfather had poured his heart and soul into it. Moreover, this gown had never been sold, and the design blueprints couldn’t possibly have leaked. She really wanted to ask Claire where she had stolen her grandfather’s life’s work from.
Seeing Estelle sit motionless for so long, the lackey lost her patience. "Estelle Lockwood! I was just trying to save your pride. What is wrong with you? Your fake was exposed, yet you still refuse to change your clothes. Are you intentionally trying to upset Miss Yeats?!"
A commotion broke out nearby as Claire walked over.
Claire still wore that condescending expression, acting as if she were a goddess descended from the heavens and everyone else was merely a mortal ant. She carried herself with immense arrogance because, in her own mind, she was practically divine.
The lackey bowed and scraped. "Claire, that’s her."
Claire finally got a clear look at Estelle’s face. Her pupils shrank violently, as if a sudden realization had struck her. Quickly recovering her indifferent demeanor, she shot the lackey a knowing look.
The lackey immediately barked, "Claire is kind-hearted and won’t hold this against you. We’re giving you one last chance to go change! Claire doesn’t allow anyone to wear the same outfit as her!"
Estelle was speechless.
She wondered if the lackey even listened to her own words. First, she claimed Claire was kind-hearted, and in the next breath, she declared that no one was allowed to wear the same outfit as her. Anyone who dared to wear the same clothes as Claire Yeats had to change immediately.
Tsk.
Estelle remained entirely unfazed. Raising her eyelids slightly, she asked, "Miss Yeats claims that the dress I’m wearing is a fake?"
Before Claire could respond, the lackey eagerly jumped in to make her presence known.
"What else could it be! There is only one dress like this in the entire world, and it’s currently on Claire’s body. Are you trying to say that Claire is the one wearing a fake? Miss Lockwood, could you stop flattering yourself? Do you even know who Claire is!"
Claire hadn’t uttered a single word so far. Everything she wanted to convey was spoken through her lackey’s mouth. It was as if Claire was naturally superior, disdaining to waste her breath on "mortals" like them. Even in an argument, she needed a middleman. For Claire to confront Estelle directly would be beneath her.
Estelle clicked her tongue again. The Yeats Family had always enjoyed a stellar reputation. It was said that the eldest young master of the Yeats was gentle and modest, and the Yeats were famous for being loyal and emotionally stable.
Ensuring that the next generation—and the one after that—developed such steadfast, emotionally stable characters without using their power to oppress others was actually incredibly difficult for a wealthy, prominent family. Since the Yeats Family could achieve this, Estelle felt that Old Mr. Yeats and the Family Head must be different from typical wealthy patriarchs. But seeing Claire now made Estelle hesitate.
Perhaps all wealthy families simply prioritized their public image; what they were actually like behind closed doors was up for debate.
Claire glanced at her, her arrogant eyes flashing. Finally, the goddess descended to earth and deigned to speak. Her tone was as condescending as ever, as if speaking to Estelle was an act of charity.
"Miss Lockwood, fakes truly are everywhere. I’ll give you one chance to admit your mistake."
The guests sensed the tension in the air, fearing that if Estelle offended Miss Yeats, they would also suffer collateral damage. Others simply wanted to curry favor with Claire.
"Yes, Miss Lockwood. Buying a fake isn’t your fault. After all, you’re still young and can’t tell the difference. It’s understandable that you were scammed."
"But now that Miss Yeats has pointed it out, you know you’re wearing a fake. Yet you still refuse to admit it just to save face. This... sigh, it’s really unnecessary!"
"Exactly, it’s just a dress, isn’t it?"
Estelle raised an eyebrow, silently noting their words before replying with profound meaning. "Miss Yeats, since both dresses were ’purchased,’ what makes you think yours is the authentic one and mine is the fake?"
Claire let out a contemptuous scoff.
The lackey slammed her hand on the table. "HA! How could a Miss of the Yeats Family buy a fake? Who would have the guts to scam Miss Yeats with a knockoff! Estelle Lockwood, there’s no need to stubbornly save face now. Everyone knows you’re wearing a fake. Just admit it, and we won’t laugh at you!"
Estelle shook her head slightly and asked calmly, "Does Miss Yeats know the meaning behind the pattern on the chest of this gown?"
Claire frowned. "Estelle Lockwood."
The lackey chimed in to finish the thought. "You’d better not do this the hard way!"
Estelle’s expression remained indifferent. "The pattern on the chest isn’t a traditional motif. It’s a constellation."
Claire sneered. "What a joke. This gown was my birthday present. The pattern on the chest was obviously created by the designer. Constellations? That’s utter nonsense!"
Estelle said mildly, "Western concepts like constellations do seem quite out of place on a traditional Chinese gown. But if Miss Yeats had observed it carefully, you would see that the constellations depicted here are those commonly seen in the southern sky."
At this point, an unknown voice spoke up from the crowd.
"Hey... it does look a bit like a constellation, doesn’t it?"
"Constellations? Like Pisces and Cancer? I can’t tell."
"No, I mean the way the stars are distributed and connected by straight lines. It does look a bit like the pattern on the dress’s chest. It’s quite abstract, though, so I guess Miss Yeats didn’t notice it."
Claire’s face darkened, and the lackey immediately barked, "Everyone, shut up!"
The whispering crowd instantly fell silent.
Estelle casually continued, "There are eighteen silver threads hidden in the hem of the dress. Does Miss Yeats understand what that means?"
Claire scoffed. "What does it matter if I know or not!"
"Pardon my presumption, but Miss Yeats mentioned this was your birthday present. For which birthday?"
Claire didn’t answer. Her lackey arrogantly replied, "Her twenty-second birthday. What about it!"
Estelle offered a half-smile. "And yet, these eighteen silver threads represent something specific. This gown was meant as a coming-of-age gift for an eighteen-year-old."