The nurse was rough, manhandling Elena without an ounce of care.
Elena wanted to snap the woman's neck, but her muscles were still flooded with the remnants of the relaxant. She was trapped in her own body.
She finally understood the absolute, degrading helplessness Dylan had endured when he was paralyzed in the northern suburbs. No, this was even worse.
Gretchen dumped her onto a vanity chair. Two women carrying large cosmetic cases swept into the room.
Without a word, they began aggressively doing her hair and makeup. Once they were finished, they pulled out a breathtakingly intricate, vintage white wedding gown and forced it onto her.
Staring at her reflection, the horrifying reality crashed over Elena.
Scarlett walked into the room and waved the styling team away.
"Madam Scarlett, what is the meaning of this?" Elena demanded, her voice trembling with rage.
Scarlett ignored the question, her eyes raking over Elena's reflection in awe. "Stunning. Absolutely breathtaking. You have such radiant beauty, Elena. This gown was practically made for you."
"Do you know the history of this dress?"
Elena simply glared at her.
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