Chapter 2The Gown Arrived After My Funeral

"Gia, wait..." Harrison frowned, stepping forward.

One of his friends nudged his ribs with an elbow. "Come on, Harrison! You’ve got a high-fashion model offering her services for free, and you're complaining? You want one of us guys to put on the tulle?"

Gia pouted, leaning her hip against a pedestal. "Harrison Hayes, I am doing you a massive favor out of the goodness of my heart. Don't be ungrateful."

"Just let her do it, man," another friend urged. "Audrey has to wear it tomorrow morning. There's no time to guess."

Harrison paused, weighing the logistics, and finally gave a reluctant nod.

The seamstresses immediately swarmed Gia, draping the cascading silk train, pinning delicate lace along her waist, and adjusting the bodice. Gia reached up, pulling off a cluster of intricate crystal blossoms pinned near the collarbone.

"Ugh, this is tacky. Take it off."

Harrison stepped in, his fingers catching the ornament, pinning it carefully back into place. "Audrey loves crystals. Keep it on."

Gia’s smile tightened, her eyes flashing cold.

An hour later, the alterations were pinned. The salon’s private photographer walked out holding a high-end Leica. "Would you two like to do a quick test roll? If you like our aesthetic, we can provide the full documentary package for your ceremony tomorrow."

"No, wait, we aren't—" Harrison began.

"Yes! Let's do it!" Gia cut him off, beaming at the lens.

"Gia," Harrison warned, his brow furrowing deeper.

"Oh, stop being a baby! I’m doing this so you can see how the dress moves under studio lighting! If the silhouette looks awful on camera, you can fix it before Audrey puts it on, right?"

The guys chimed in instantly. "She’s right, Harrison. Get the lighting dialed in now so Audrey looks perfect tomorrow."

Harrison considered it. If he brought an elite photographer home tomorrow, capturing the raw, overwhelming shock and joy on Audrey’s face... those would be photographs they could cherish when they were old.

"Fine," he said softly.

The photographer smiled, gesturing them toward the backdrop. "Wonderful! Bride, lean into the groom’s chest. That's it! Groom, give me a warm smile. Look how radiant your bride is!"

Harrison hesitated for a fraction of a second, then allowed the photographer to direct his posture.

"Perfect! Let’s try another pose. Groom, wrap both hands firmly around her waist. Yes! Now lift her up—spin her slightly!"

"You two make an absolute dream couple," the photographer murmured, clicking rapidly before holding up the digital preview screen.

Harrison looked down at the display.

In the glow of the monitor, Gia’s sharp, delicate features blurred in his mind's eye. He wasn't seeing Gia; he was imagining Audrey in his arms. He could already picture the stunned, tearful warmth in her eyes, the way her trembling lips would curve into that familiar, selfless smile.

She would be so beautiful.

She was terribly fragile right now, yes. But that didn't matter. He was a billionaire. He had the best private nutritionists, the top doctors in the world. He would build her back up, ounce by ounce, until she bloomed again.

"All right, Gia," Harrison said, stepping back and clearing his throat. "Take the gown off."

"Okay, okay, don't rush me—whoa!"

Gia took a sudden, clumsy step backward, her heel catching in the sheer tulle. With an exaggerated gasp, she tumbled sideways into a brass display rack.

A violent, sickening rip echoed through the salon. The delicate silk chiffon tore down the side, and the crystal blossoms shattered across the hardwood floor.

The consultant gasped, covering her mouth. "Dear God... that's the only archival sample we have in the country!"

"Gia Mercer!" Harrison snapped, lunging forward, his voice cracking with genuine fury. "What the hell is wrong with you? You're never this clumsy! How is Audrey supposed to walk down the aisle tomorrow?!"

Gia froze on the floor, her eyes instantly welling with glossy, dramatic tears.

In all the years they had known each other, Harrison had never raised his voice at her. He had indulged her every whim. When she had bet him that no woman could love a destitute man, he had abandoned his life of privilege for three years just to play her game. And now, over some dress for a nobody, he was screaming at her.

Seeing her tremble, the guys instantly closed ranks around her.

"Hey, Harrison, back off! It’s just fabric, the salon can pull an all-nighter."

"Yeah, man, Gia spent the last two hours playing mannequin for your wife. Cut her some slack."

The bridal manager hurried forward to de-escalate. "It's all right, Mr. Hayes! Our master tailors can reconstruct the panel overnight. We guarantee it will look completely seamless by sunrise."

Harrison stood there, his chest rising and falling as he looked down at Gia’s tear-stained face and quivering shoulders.

He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling a long, weary breath. "I'm sorry, Gia. I lost my temper."