My fiancé Lucas never missed a chance to criticize dark-skinned models, saying they’d always be at the bottom of the modeling world. No matter how stunning Giselle’s runway performance was, Lucas would never let her wear his designs. “Darling, my clothes are all designed for you. She’s not worthy of them!” he’d say. I thought this was his way of expressing love for me. Until at the international fashion week, Giselle dazzled the crowd wearing the wedding dress Lucas had designed for me. Lucas knelt on the spot, proposing to her with eyes full of passion. I rushed onto the stage in a frenzy to confront them, only to be labeled as the other woman and face online backlash. Wandering the foreign streets in a daze, I was ultimately assaulted by a group of drunk thugs and left to drown in a filthy gutter. When I opened my eyes again, Lucas was discussing his new collection’s model choices with me. “Aria, who do you think should be the lead model for this new collection?” Lucas’s gentle voice reached my ears. Looking at his hypocritical face, the pain and humiliation from my past life surged through me like a tidal wave. It was this very face that had showered me with sweet nothings. “Aria, my designs are all born for you.” “That Giselle, her skin is as rough as sandpaper. It’s an insult to even let her touch my work.” But in the end, he embraced Giselle, had me dragged off stage by security, and left me to die in a foreign land. Thinking of this, I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. The sharp pain kept me focused. I couldn’t act rashly. I suppressed the hatred bubbling up inside me and forced a smile onto my face. “Lucas, I actually have an idea. Would you like to hear it?” Lucas immediately put on a loving expression and held my hand. “Of course, your ideas are always the best.” His touch made me nauseous, but I endured it. I pulled my hand away and picked up the model profiles on the table, flipping to Giselle’s page. In the photo, she exuded confidence and wild beauty. “I think this Giselle isn’t bad.” Lucas’s pupils constricted sharply, and he quickly put on a look of disgust, just as I remembered. “Her? Aria, are you joking?” “My designs are so noble. How could we let her showcase them? She’d only lower our brand’s standards.” I shook my head thoughtfully, pretending to have given it deep consideration for his sake. “Lucas, listen to me. The fashion world is all about diversity now. Wouldn’t going against the grain give us more buzz?” I looked at him with sincere eyes. “Think about it. You’ve always claimed your designs are only for the classical beauty of Eastern women.” “If we suddenly use a black model with a completely different style, it’s called reverse marketing. The media will explode.” The disgust in Lucas’s eyes gradually faded, replaced by a glimmer of excitement. He pretended to ponder for a moment, furrowing his brow as if making a difficult decision. “But I’m worried about hurting you,” he said, looking at me with concern. “A little discomfort for the sake of your career is nothing,” I smiled graciously. “Let’s do it. I’ll go talk to her.” Lucas finally stopped protesting. He hugged me joyfully and kissed my forehead. “Aria, you’re truly my better half! I love you so much!” I stiffened in his embrace, my stomach churning.
Lucas accepted my suggestion and put me in charge of liaising with Giselle. Using the Snow family’s connections, I quickly got in touch with Giselle. On the phone, her tone was haughty, but as soon as she heard it was Lucas Reed’s brand inviting her to be the lead model, she immediately agreed. The next day, I accompanied Lucas to the studio to wait for her. For this act, I deliberately wore the white dress Lucas had custom-made for me last season. It was the piece that won him the national design award, supposedly inspired by me. Giselle strode into the studio doorway in 4-inch heels, right on time, exuding a powerful aura. When she saw me, a flash of contempt crossed her eyes. Her gaze lingered on my dress for a moment, her lips curling into a mocking smile. Lucas immediately went to greet her, but with a cold expression on his face. He deliberately spoke loudly: “Miss Giselle, Aria should have explained all the terms of cooperation to you.” “This collaboration is purely business. I hope you don’t have any other ideas.” Giselle crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Rest assured, Mr. Reed. I’m only interested in your designs, not you personally.” The two went back and forth, acting as if it were all real. I sat quietly on the sofa, watching their hypocritical performance. When it came time for the fitting, Lucas took out the main piece of the new collection, a sleek black gown, and handed it to Giselle. “Try it on. The size is based on standard model measurements, so it should fit.” Giselle walked into the changing room. I stood up and walked to the rack holding the new collection, my eyes falling on a champagne-colored gown. Lucas had shown me the design for this gown a few days ago, saying it was to be my birthday gift, with every detail crafted for me. I reached out my hand, wanting to feel the fabric. But Lucas suddenly came over and grabbed my hand. “Aria, don’t touch. These are all samples. The fabric is delicate, and it would be bad if they got damaged.” I grew suspicious but kept my face neutral, obediently withdrawing my hand. Just then, the changing room door opened. Giselle walked out wearing the black gown. In that moment, even I had to admit her presence was truly stunning. The dress seemed to come alive on her body, every line flowing smoothly and powerfully. Lucas’s eyes instantly lit up with undisguised amazement and fascination. But he quickly caught himself, schooling his features into a critical expression. He walked up to Giselle, adjusting her shoulder straps. His fingertips deliberately brushed against Giselle’s exposed collarbone. Their eyes met briefly in the mirror, the atmosphere suddenly turning ambiguous. I watched all of this with cold eyes. “Well?” Giselle asked lazily, looking at herself in the mirror. Lucas cleared his throat and spoke in a businesslike tone: “It’s alright, but something seems to be missing.” He suddenly turned to look at me, frowning. “Aria, come try it on.” I was taken aback. “Put it on. I want to compare the effect.”
I walked into the changing room and put on the same black gown. The me in the mirror was beautiful too. But the cut of this dress was clearly not suited to my figure. The waistline was too low, and the chest area was loose and baggy. When I walked out, Lucas and Giselle were standing side by side. Lucas looked me up and down, shook his head, and turned to Giselle: “Ah, it’s still you after all.” “Aria is too thin. Her figure isn’t as curvy as yours. She can’t bring out the soul of this dress.” Giselle let out a smug chuckle, her eyes full of challenge as she looked at me. I said nothing and returned to the changing room to change back. From that day on, the ambiguity between Lucas and Giselle grew increasingly obvious. Lucas would use adjusting clothes as an excuse to keep his hands on Giselle’s waist for far too long. Giselle would wear revealing outfits and deliberately bend over in front of Lucas, showing off her proud curves. And I, always wearing a proper smile, would serve them tea and water, even thoughtfully offering band-aids when Giselle complained about her high heels hurting her feet. My compliance and magnanimity made Lucas increasingly brazen. He would praise Giselle right in front of me, without any restraint. “Giselle, you have a natural camera presence. You’ve brought this dress to life.” “Your skin tone paired with this bright yellow is simply perfect, like the sun on the African savannah.” While to me, he grew increasingly impatient. “Aria, don’t always hang around the studio. You don’t understand anything, you’ll affect my creativity.” “How many times have I told you, coffee without sugar? Why can’t you ever remember?” Giselle’s provocations towards me also became more direct. One day, I went to the studio as usual to deliver afternoon tea. When I pushed open the door, I found it empty. I was puzzled until I heard muffled, ambiguous gasps coming from the direction of the changing room. I silently walked to the changing room door. It was slightly ajar. Through the crack, I saw Lucas pressing Giselle against the mirror. They were entangled together, clothes disheveled, their faces reflected in the mirror showing ecstasy and frenzy. Giselle, while responding to Lucas’s movements, caught sight of me outside the door in the mirror. Far from panicking, she flashed a provocative smile and deliberately increased her volume. Lucas, stimulated by her, became even more frenzied, completely unaware of my presence. I turned away expressionlessly, preparing to leave this filthy place. Just as I reached the door, Giselle chased after me. She had already tidied her clothes, her face still flushed, her eyes full of mockery. “Miss Snow, saw everything, did you?” I looked at her without a word. “It’s good that you did.” “Some things aren’t yours, so don’t try to grab them. Men are like clothes, they prefer curves.” She chuckled and leaned in close to my ear, speaking in a voice only we could hear: “You’re just a vase with no appeal. What do you have besides your family background?” “Lucas said being with you is like hugging a wooden board, no fun at all.” I listened quietly, looking at her smug face, and slowly spoke. “Are you done?” My calmness took her aback. “If you’re done, move aside. You’re in my way.” I walked around her, heading straight for the fabric area to find the silk I needed. I didn’t look at her again, nor at Lucas as he emerged from the changing room. I completely treated Lucas and Giselle as if they were air. I stopped asking about any of their fashion week affairs and stopped footing their bills. Lucas hinted several times that the budget was tight, but I brushed him off, saying, “Father’s been auditing the accounts lately, he’s keeping a tight rein on things.” Without the Snow family’s financial support, Lucas’s face grew darker by the day. But he still put on a brave face, relying on his previously accumulated fame and loans to maintain the Paris show’s grandeur. I didn’t interfere and continued doing my own thing. While tidying up the office, I stumbled upon a fashion magazine from twenty years ago. It featured Quincy Yan’s gold award-winning work from the “Rising Star” competition back then. The stunning design and unique style left me momentarily stunned. I immediately rushed back to my own studio and pulled out all of Lucas’s designs from over the years. As I compared them one by one, my hands began to tremble uncontrollably. They were exact replicas, blatant plagiarism!
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