I had no idea what Julian was trying to accomplish.
But I had no other choice but to agree.
When I changed into the gown Julian sent over and arrived at the venue, chauffeured by his driver, I realized I had underestimated his cruelty.
This wasn’t a private gala at all.
The red carpet was lined with media reporters and cameras, while fans holding flowers and banners screamed the names of their idols.
I barely had time to process it before someone noticed me.
“Look! Isn’t that the fake marriage fraudster?”
Ever since Julian used my account to post that forced apology, I’d been labeled as the “fake marriage fraudster.”
I had seen countless insults online, but no amount of text could compare to the humiliation of hearing the taunts whispered directly in my ear.
“Victoria Dean, how do you even have the nerve to show your face here?”
“Look at her dress. Averil’s wearing white, and so is she. Typical attention-seeking move.”
“Don’t even try to compare her to our idol, Averil. She’s not worthy!”
“Exactly. Averil’s dress is haute couture, straight off the runway, and hers? Looks like a two-year-old knockoff.”
The vicious jeers flooded my ears. I tried to turn and escape, but a “staff member” grabbed my arm.
Looking up, I recognized him instantly—it was Hank, Julian’s bodyguard.
He smiled at me, his eyes glinting with malice.
“Miss Dean, Mr. Ford said you must enter the venue.”
Hank was a distant relative of Averil. Last time at the hospital, he had purposely gripped me so hard that bruises bloomed all over my arm.
Julian had seen it but only gave a cursory reprimand. Now, he had unleashed him on me again.
The Julian who once cherished me like I was his whole world was long gone.
