Chapter 1 - The First Thread of Betrayal
The sharp click of designer heels echoed against the marble floor of the exclusive bridal boutique.
Victoria Sterling snatched her hand away from the mannequin, her eyes narrowing into cold slits as she glared at the elderly woman standing beside her.
"Get your filthy hands off my wedding gown!"
Victoria’s voice cut through the quiet air of the high-end shop like a scalpel, dripping with aristocratic disdain. She adjusted the lapels of her pristine white blazer and trousers suit, her high ponytail swinging with her sharp movement.
The old seamstress, wearing a white chef and seamstress apron and hat, did not flinch. Her lined face, mapped with faint old scars, remained entirely still.
"It belongs to the elite, not the help," Victoria snapped, crossing her arms over her chest with a furious and haughty expression. She looked down her nose at the seventy-year-old woman as if she were a piece of stray trash swept off the sidewalk.
The seamstress slowly raised her head. Beneath the harsh lighting of the boutique, her eyes caught the reflection of the room, revealing striking, glowing blue robotic eyes that hummed with a quiet, terrifying internal power.
The seamstress spoke softly, her voice steady and unyielding.
"I know this bridal gown better than anyone."
Victoria scoffed, stepping closer, though a subtle twitch in her jaw betrayed her sudden, unexpected unease.
"You're just a hired hand. Stitching hems is all you're good for."
The seamstress stood tall, unaffected by the insult, her glowing eyes locked onto the wealthy bride.
"I wove this abyssal silk for my own daughter's wedding..."
The air in the room grew noticeably colder. The blue LED lights embedded in the dark pearls and silver chains flickered rhythmically, casting an eerie, rhythmic pulse across the walls.
Victoria frowned, opening her mouth to issue another dismissive command, but the words died in her throat as the seamstress leaned in close.
"...right before your father's submarine left her to drown in the trench."
May you like
Victoria stumbled backward, her heel catching the edge of a display rug, as the terrifying weight of the old woman's words fully crashed down upon her.
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