The CEO’s Masked Secret Wife novel Chapter 133

133 A Monstrosity in Tulle and Taffeta

133 A Monstrosity in Tulle and Taffeta

I watched in fascinated horror as Isabella was stuffed into the monstrosity. The dress had a bodice covered in crystals and pearls, with a skirt that exploded into layers upon layers of ruffled tulle. The train extended at least six feet behind her, covered in appliqué roses and more crystals. T

Isabella noticed me and her scowl deepened. “You’re late.”

Isabella’s eyes darted nervously to her mother. “Four months after.”

I forced my face into a neutral expression. “It’s certainly… memorable.”

“He’s being private about it,” she snapped.

“Oh, I’ll make sure he knows exactly what you chose,” I promised.

“Tell Daddy I found the perfect dress,” Isabella called, not bothering to look at me.

I checked my phone, texting Owen under the pretense of answering work emails. I knew he’d be with Liam tonight for their regular poker game.

Isabella nodded, though her confidence seemed to waver. “He’s letting me handle everything. He trusts my taste completely.”

Isabella rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Just don’t get in my way. This is my special day.”

I smiled to myself as I walked to my car. Owen wouldn’t be able to resist showing Liam. And Liam’s face when he saw what his “future bride” had chosen would be priceless.

I was only here because Julian was paying me an obscene amount of money to play nice with his daughter. My job description: companion, advisor, and spy. The things I did for money and revenge.

“No, thanks.” I sat down on one of the white satin chairs. “I’m not surprised she’s late. Consideration isn’t in Isabella’s vocabulary.”

Bianca’s POV

When she emerged from the changing room, I had to grip the arm of my chair to keep from collapsing in laughter.

133 A Monstrosity in Tulle and Taffeta

“They’re late,” I muttered to myself.

I leaned closer, lowering my voice. “You do realize that when you inevitably ‘miscarry‘ after trapping him in marriage, he’s going to hate you forever, right?”

Clara nodded along with each dismissal. “Remember, darling, you need to look perfect

for Liam.”

“This is unacceptable!” Isabella screeched. “I specifically requested the VIP room with the crystal chandelier!”

The boutique’s door flew open with dramatic force. Isabella stormed in, her mother Clara trailing behind her like an anxious shadow.

I pulled out my phone discreetly and snapped a photo of Isabella in the full horror of the dress. She was too engrossed in her reflection to notice.

The doorbell of Blissful Bride Boutique chimed as I walked in. The air smelled of expensive perfume, champagne, and desperation. I checked my watch for the third time in five minutes.

I started my car, feeling a deep satisfaction. Julian might be paying me to help his daughter, but no one said I couldn’t enjoy watching this train wreck unfold. And sending that photo to Owen? That was just a bonus–a little gift to make Liam Sterling’s evening just a bit more miserable.

“It’s perfect,” Isabella breathed, twirling carefully. “Don’t you

think so,

Mother?”

She looked like a disco ball had mated with a wedding cake. The dress swallowed her petite frame, making her head look tiny atop the massive creation. The boxy silhouette did nothing for her figure, and the excessive embellishments made her appear gaudy rather than glamorous.

I followed the Clairemont women to the VIP suite. The manager opened a bottle of champagne while assistants scurried around displaying various wedding gowns. “Actually, you’re forty–five minutes late,” I replied, standing up. “I’ve been here the whole time.”

Clara clapped her hands, oblivious to our exchange. “Let’s start trying on dresses!” “How are you feeling, Isabella?” I asked innocently. “No more morning sickness?”

133 A Monstrosity in Tulle and Taffeta

“Hmm, how convenient.” I took a sip of champagne. “And Liam must be over the moon about becoming a father.”

Once outside the boutique, I opened my messages and sent the photo to Owen with a caption: “The most beautiful bride in the world. Dress successfully purchased.

Isabella examined each dress with critical eyes. “Too plain. Too boring. Too yesterday.”

“He doesn’t,” she hissed. “He believes everything I say. Men always do”

Isabella’s face turned an interesting shade of red. “I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

She shot me a warning glare. “It comes and goes.”

“I know!” Isabella squealed. “But I think it needs more. Maybe we could add a tiara? And perhaps more crystals on the train?”

Isabella’s face flushed. “Of course he is.”

“This is our showstopper,” she announced with forced enthusiasm. “It’s called ‘Royal Rapture.”

“I want something that says ‘queen‘ but also ‘sex kitten,” she instructed the overwhelmed consultant. “It needs to make Liam’s jaw drop and my ex–friends die of jealousy.”

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“Don’t look so surprised, Isabella. Your plan is about as sophisticated as your fashion sense.” I smiled sweetly. “In fact, I’d bet money that Liam already suspects.”

Isabella beamed at her reflection. “Liam won’t be able to take his eyes off me.”

Her eyes widened in shock.

The consultant disappeared into the back and returned with what could only be described as fabric catastrophe.

After composing myself, I returned to find Isabella still admiring herself while Clara discussed payment details with the consultant.

Sometimes revenge was as simple as letting people destroy themselves. Isabella didn’t need my help to look ridiculous. She was doing that all by herself.

“What about this one?” Clara suggested, pointing to a relatively tasteful mermaid

133 A Monstrosity in Tulle and Taffeta

silhouette.

The woman’s smile tightened, but she backed away.

The consultant looked pained but nodded. “Whatever you wish, Miss Clairemont.”

I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Poor delusional Isabella, still believing she could trap Liam Sterling with her fake pregnancy scheme.

Isabella spent another thirty minutes discussing alterations to make the dress even more outrageous. I excused myself to use the restroom, where I finally let out the hysterical laughter I’d been suppressing.

“Strange that he hasn’t announced it publicly,” I mused. “Most men in his position would be shouting from the rooftops.”

Clara burst into tears. “Oh, my darling! You look like an angel!”

I decided to push a little further. “So what happens after the wedding? When is the baby due again?”

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