My Engagement Party, His Humiliation Show Chapter 03
“No!”
I snapped, my voice raw. This gown was a family heirloom — passed only to the heir.
To my family, it meant as much as the family name itself. My mother had sewn this very gown for me by hand, stitch by stitch, before she died.
My father kept it safe for exactly twenty years since her passing, waiting for today — the day I finally stepped into what was mine. I wrapped my arms around myself and staggered upright.
The soaked fabric clung to my skin like a second, freezing skin, and I couldn’t stop shaking. Bradley glanced my way. Something flickered across his face — and vanished before I could name it.
He stayed quiet for a beat. Then he pulled Chloe closer and kept his voice casual. “Babe, that dress is nothing special. It’s old-fashioned.”
“Plus it’s soaking wet with dirty water — you’ll freeze. Forget that one. I’ll buy you something better right now…”
“No!” Chloe pushed herself out of his embrace. The tears showed up right on cue.
“I want Vivienne’s dress, and you can’t even do that for me? Is it because you still care about her? Does she matter more to you than I do?!”
“No — I just think it’s ugly, and it’s soaked—”
“I think it’s beautiful! I don’t care if it’s wet!”
Bradley went rigid as she accused him. “You do still care about her…” she sobbed.
“I don’t!” The denial came too fast. Bradley turned on me, his voice going flat.
“You heard her, Vivienne. Chloe wants the dress. Take it off.”
I looked around at the ring of men closing in around me. My voice cracked as I looked back at him.
“You’re asking me to strip? Here? In front of all of them?”
“Take it off!”
The crowd jeered in excitement. They pressed in tighter, eyes crawling over every line the wet fabric showed.
“Take it off! Mr. Crawford said take it off — what are you waiting for?!”
“Absolute legend, Mr. Crawford! Where else would we get a show like this?”
When I didn’t move fast enough, the closest man reached out and grabbed the hem of my gown. The fabric groaned. One hard yank, and the seam split from the hem to my armpit.
The crowd roared.
Bradley reacted fast. He kicked the man to the ground, stripped off his own jacket, and threw it over me. Then he turned to Chloe.
“Babe, the dress is ruined now. Let’s just—”
“I want it!”
Chloe cut him off again. And when he still didn’t move, she reached into her handbag.
She pulled out a sleek pocket knife and pressed the blade to her own throat. She shook from head to toe, her voice barely holding together.
“Bradley, my parents are both dead. I came back because you promised to take care of me…”
“You can’t even do this one little thing for me — how am I supposed to trust you? Maybe I’m better off dead…”
“Don’t!”
Before she could push the blade in, Bradley lunged and caught it with his bare hand. Blood ran down his wrist in a steady stream.
Three years ago, when I’d gone into that abandoned warehouse alone to drag him out, he’d thrown his arm in front of a thug’s switchblade meant for me. He told me I was the only person he’d ever bleed for.
Turns out that promise came with an expiration date. Exactly three years and two months.
“Bradley, I don’t want to make this hard for you…”
“You’re not!”
Bradley turned and walked straight toward me. “You want this dress, Chloe? I’ll take it off her myself.”
He didn’t wait for her answer. He ripped the jacket off my shoulders in one sharp motion.
Then his fist locked around the collar of my mother’s gown, and he tore it open down the middle.
