“What is going on here?” Richard’s voice boomed across the quiet room. “Vanessa, where is Lily’s dress?”
Vanessa swallowed hard, suddenly looking much smaller. “Richard, I was just explaining—there was a terrible stain. A coffee spill. We had to improvise.”
“Let me see it,” Richard demanded, taking a step forward. “Right now.”
Vanessa hesitated, glancing toward the mahogany closet in the corner, before reluctantly walking over and pulling a white garment bag from the very back. Richard unzipped it himself with a sharp tug. Inside hung the blush pink tulle dress. The tiny pearls gleamed under the chandelier light. It was immaculate—not a stain, not a single tear.