For these women, high-end luxury fashion was their favorite topic.
The mention of YB Atelier instantly grabbed their attention.
They buzzed with excitement. "Isabella, the Vinton family really does still adore you! Securing a YB gown is nearly impossible. We tried to get custom pieces from them, and they turned us all down."
"We honestly thought you'd been pushed to the sidelines since the new girl arrived."
Isabella's smile faltered for a fraction of a second.
She forced a smile. "Of course not. My grandparents have always spoiled me."
"That's true. Old Mrs. Vinton has always favored you," one socialite mused, taking a delicate sip of her tea. "But does the family actually know she's just an uncultured hillbilly? The scale of this gala... it's practically rivaling a royal banquet."
Isabella’s smile grew rigid, but her voice remained sugar-sweet. "Well, the Vinton family just weathered a massive financial war, and there were rumors about my grandfather passing away. They're just using this opportunity to prove to the world that the family is stronger than ever."
"Makes sense."
As they chatted.
They suddenly spotted a girl in a black T-shirt and dark jeans strolling past, carrying a battered garment box.
The girl's long hair was pulled into a careless ponytail. Her face was entirely free of makeup, yet her striking, vibrant features were impossible to ignore.
But her outfit...
It was painfully mundane and cheap.
Socialite A narrowed her eyes. "Is that the new Vinton heiress?"
Socialite B scoffed. "She really is clueless. She's been living with the Vinton family for a while now, and she's still dressing like a street urchin? Didn't they buy her a decent wardrobe?"
The commotion was so loud that Serena couldn't possibly ignore it.
Carrying her box, she shifted her cool, detached gaze toward the gazebo.
When her eyes locked onto Isabella, Isabella’s heart slammed against her ribs.
Panicking, she immediately slapped on her 'protective older sister' mask and spoke up for Serena. "Please don't talk about Serena like that. She has her own unique taste."
Standing up, she hurried over to Serena, her face a picture of concern. "Serena, is that the dress you brought? If it doesn't fit right, just let me know. I have a whole closet full of designer gowns you can try."
Her eyes flicked down to the box in Serena's hand.
Up close, it looked even more pathetic, with visible tears along the cardboard seams.

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