Claire Yeats’ expression darkened.
Her lackey immediately chimed in arrogantly, "What nonsense! These silver threads are just for show. You say it’s an eighteenth-birthday present, but who can prove that? Aren’t you just making things up?"
"Perhaps you can’t tell from a distance, but up close, you can see that the tulle used in my dress is light and soft. It features a gold-dusting technique, making it look like the Milky Way," Estelle Lockwood said, resting her chin in her hand. "Meanwhile, the tulle on Miss Yeats doesn’t seem to have these intricate details."
The crowd paused. Sure enough, she was right.
They hadn’t noticed it earlier, but as Estelle moved, her dress revealed different patterns under varying lighting angles. The gown miraculously blended the entirely contradictory concepts of radiant extravagance and understated elegance in perfect harmony. With every step she took, a faint luminescence seemed to shimmer around her wrists, sparkling as brilliantly as a galaxy of a million stars.
In contrast, while Claire’s dress was undeniably beautiful, it lacked many of these hidden intricacies. The materials of Claire’s dress were undoubtedly top-tier, and the fine diamonds and pearls adorning it were all authentic. At first glance, it did look identical to Estelle’s. However, only Estelle’s gown truly embodied understated luxury; when she walked in the light, the two dresses weren’t even in the same league.
The guests couldn’t help but wonder how the dignified Miss Yeats’ dress could be so vastly inferior. Looking at it now, Estelle’s had to be the authentic piece! Claire was like a cheap imitation—she had copied the look, but failed to capture its soul. Neither the silver threading at the waist nor the starry galaxy at the wrists was present.
Claire’s face was utterly grim.
Her lackey was also stunned for a moment, but she quickly snapped back to her senses, pointing at Estelle and cursing loudly. "You... I can only say you’re a very scheming copycat! You tweaked the original a bit, came up with a slightly better design, and falsely claimed it as your own. You’re shameless!"
Estelle caught the crucial slip-up. "I never said I designed this. On the other hand, why are you so agitated? Could it be that this dress was actually ’designed’ by Miss Yeats? Otherwise, how did a simple matter of authenticity suddenly turn into an accusation of me plagiarizing?"
The guests’ gazes also turned knowing.
The lackey immediately wanted to blurt out that Claire had designed it and that Estelle was a shameless plagiarist. However, Claire shot her a sharp glare, forcing the lackey to backtrack. "Don’t make wild guesses, that’s not what I meant! I just... I just wanted to say that the one Claire is wearing is the authentic piece. Sometimes knockoffs look flashy, but in reality, they’re nothing but imitations and plagiarism!"
"Alright," Estelle sighed. "Then might I ask who the designer of Miss Yeats’ dress is?"
The lackey instantly fell silent.
Claire said coldly, "That is none of your business."
Estelle clicked her tongue. "If Miss Yeats can’t name the designer, things get a bit tricky... After all, I can provide proof from the designer on my end."
The lackey flew into a rage. "As if some fame-seeking hack deserves to be called a designer! Estelle Lockwood, you’re pushing your luck! Fine! If you won’t take it off yourself, I’ll strip it off for you!"
Claire watched the scene unfold coldly, seemingly having no objections to her minion stripping someone else’s clothes off.
"A fame-seeking hack?" an authoritative female voice suddenly rang out from nearby.
The crowd turned to see Jane Winters walking over with a dark expression, her tone loaded with meaning. "Miss Yeats, this is my banquet after all. Having your friend bully my guests at my event... that’s not very appropriate, is it?"
Claire frowned impatiently. She was the dignified daughter of the Yeats family. Even the elite wealthy families in Capital City had to give her face. Who gave Jane Winters, a mere luxury brand founder, the nerve to speak to her like this? She was born to be the center of attention, and attending this banquet was already doing Jane a favor!
Still, considering Jane’s status as a leading figure in the fashion industry, it was better not to offend her if possible. So, Claire finally opened her precious mouth. "Ms. Winters, someone is wearing a counterfeit dress at your banquet. I simply couldn’t stand by and watch."
Claire maintained her aloof and superior demeanor, leaving the rest of the talking to her lackey.
"That’s right, Ms. Winters. Just look at Estelle’s dress—it’s exactly the same as our Claire’s. Would Claire wear a knockoff? Of course not! This dress was a gift to her, and who would dare give a counterfeit to the dignified Miss Yeats?"
"So your standard for determining a counterfeit is based on family background?" Jane asked.
The lackey choked on her words and gave an awkward smile. "Of course that’s not what I meant. But comparing Estelle to Claire... you know what I mean, right?"
"No, I don’t," Jane replied flatly.
The lackey’s cheek twitched. Why was this Jane Winters so stubbornly immune to persuasion? Besides, there was one detail the lackey hadn’t mentioned. This dress was designed by Claire herself! Everyone in the Yeats family knew it. Claire was so talented; Estelle must have copied her!
Jane had already turned her attention to Claire. "Does Miss Yeats also believe that the dress Estelle is wearing is a counterfeit?"
Claire didn’t answer, merely giving a haughty nod.
Jane scoffed. "It seems Miss Yeats hasn’t absorbed a single word Estelle just said.
"The silver threading, the constellation patterns, the gold-dusting technique on the tulle—these details may seem simple, but they conceal meticulous thought and effort. Yet, your dress possesses none of them. And you claim Estelle’s is the fake?"
Claire’s expression finally turned ugly. But she was a daughter of the Yeats family, and she hid behind that status. "I stand by my words. A counterfeit can add extra details to an original design, but that doesn’t prove mine is the fake."
"Hah," Jane laughed. "Estelle asked who your designer is, and you dodged the question. Your only defense is that the dignified daughter of the Yeats family wouldn’t wear a fake. That’s quite funny—
"Are you suggesting that a piece designed by me, Jane Winters, is a counterfeit?!"
Those words were like a boulder dropped into a calm lake, sending massive shockwaves through the crowd.
Designed by Jane Winters? Estelle’s dress was designed by Jane Winters?!
The color instantly drained from Claire’s face.
Jane curled her lips into a smile, staring intently at Claire. "Miss Yeats, are you implying that I, the founder of this brand, designed a counterfeit?"
The guests were completely floored. How could that be possible! Setting aside the fact that Estelle’s dress was a hundred times more exquisite than Claire’s, Jane’s reputation alone spoke volumes. Jane despised knockoffs more than anyone. How could she possibly design one! Besides, when it came to design, who could surpass Jane Winters? Claire had stubbornly refused to name the designer of her dress—wasn’t it simply because she was feeling guilty?
After seeing the sheer level of detail in the dress’s design, everyone had already sided with Estelle. Now that it was revealed Jane Winters was the designer, the scales in the crowd’s hearts tipped entirely in her favor.
"Miss Yeats claims this was her twenty-second birthday present," Jane stated clearly. "But in reality, this dress was designed by my junior and me. It was our gift for Estelle’s eighteenth coming-of-age ceremony."