Maddison Lorenzo.
I hold the bright cream gown up against my body and face the mirror. It’s… beautiful. Too beautiful.
I try the dark brown one next, but my eyes keep drifting back to the cream. I put it next to a darker brown one… but the cream just feels like a first day of college dress.
The problem is the tag still hanging from the sleeve.
$3,000.
That’s more money than I’ve ever worn on my body. It’s one of the dresses Fuchsia bought me, and I already promised myself I’d sell all of them. Still… there are others. Plenty of others. Wearing just one won’t ruin the plan.
“Okay.” I whisper, as if the mirror needs convincing.
I lay the dress down and move to the vanity. I pull my hair half up, half down, slick the front lightly with gel, then tug out a few baby hairs so it doesn’t
