ISABELLA’S POV
Two hours later, the preparation began.
The dress came in a gold-embossed garment bag that screamed “steal me and get rich.”
Agnes opened it and literally gasped like she’d just seen Beyoncé rise from the grave of her bank account.
“Oh my God,” she whispered, touching the silk like it was sacred. “If I wear this, I might start menstruating money.”
It was an emerald green Dior haute couture gown. Off-shoulder. Sculpted bodice. The kind of thing you wear when you're about to dethrone someone. Paired with diamond drop earrings and strappy Louboutins that probably cost more than my entire school debt.
When I stepped out of the bedroom, fully dressed and made-up by Jace’s glam squad, Agnes dropped her phone.
Literally dropped it. Screen down. Didn’t even flinch.
“ISABELL
