After my client threw champagne at my 68-year-old seamstress and threatened us, she accidentally dropped a burner phone detailing her plot to poison the groom at the altar.

I swallowed every ounce of pride, disgust, and rage boiling in my blood. I bowed my head slightly, forcing my voice into an apologetic, subdued cadence.

"Welcome back, Miss Sterling," I said softly, gesturing to the podium. "The gown has been altered to the exact specifications you requested. The waistline has been raised a half-inch, and the boning reinforced."

Vanessa walked around the mannequin like a predator circling fresh meat. She dragged one sharp, polished red fingernail across the delicate Italian silk, testing me, trying to provoke a reaction.

I didn't flinch.

"It looks adequate," she sneered. "Where is the old cow?"

"Clara was deeply shaken by yesterday’s excitement," I lied smoothly. "Her blood pressure spiked. I sent her home to rest. I will be handling your final fitting personally."

"Good," Vanessa laughed, stepping toward the dressing room. "She was an eyesore anyway. Make sure you button the back properly this time. Julian’s society friends have eyes like hawks."

For forty-five minutes, I played the humble, compliant couturier.

I knelt on the plush carpet at her feet, pinning the hemline, smoothing the heavy silk, and making sure the tiny camera embedded in the pearl neckline had a clear, unobstructed angle. Every time I touched the fabric near her chest, my fingers brushed against the hardened miniature housing concealed beneath the lining.

Vanessa barely looked at me. She was too busy scrolling on her phone—her original gold iPhone, perfectly unaware that her burner was no longer exclusively hers.

"Julian has been acting strange today," she muttered aloud, speaking into an audio memo. "He canceled lunch with the caterers. Make sure Carter is in position for the rehearsal dinner tomorrow night. Everything has to go off without a hitch."

My heart hammered against my ribs, but my hands remained steady. I pinned the final fold of silk, stood up, and met her reflection in the full-length gilded mirror.

"You look breathtaking, Miss Sterling," I said, the words tasting like ash in my mouth.

"I know I do," she smiled, admiring her reflection with pure narcissism. "This dress is going to be iconic. It’s going to be in every newspaper in the world."

*Yes,* I thought to myself, *it certainly will be. Just not for the reasons you think.*

Once she stripped out of the gown and left with her bodyguards, the bell chimed above the door.

Ten seconds later, the private rear door clicked open. Julian stepped in, wearing an earpiece. Sarah was right behind him, carrying a high-gain antenna in a canvas satchel.

"She took the bait," Julian said, his eyes glowing with fierce adrenaline. "Sarah got crystal-clear audio and video from the fitting room. She left a voice memo to Carter confirming the time of the handoff."

"When is it?" I asked, wiping cold sweat from my palms.

"Tomorrow night. The rehearsal dinner at the Vance Estate in the Hamptons," Julian said. "Carter is flying in from London under an alias. He’s delivering the poison directly to Vanessa in the bridal dressing suite before the welcome speeches."

"And what happens to me?" I asked.

Julian stepped closer, his gaze softening into something deep and intensely protective. He reached out, his thumb gently brushing across my cheekbone, catching a stray tear of pure exhaustion that I hadn't realized had escaped.

"You are going to the Hamptons with the dress," Julian whispered. "You are the head designer. You have official clearance to be in the suite to dress the bride. You will be our eyes inside that room."

"Julian..." I breathed, looking into his eyes. "If Carter or Vanessa realizes what we’re doing—"

"I have four federal marshals embedded as security guards on the property," Julian promised, his hand lingering against the side of my face, his warmth steadying my chaotic pulse. "I will not let them touch you, Avery. I swear it on my father's memory. When this night is over, you and Clara will be free. And those two will spend the rest of their lives in a federal penitentiary."

I looked at the magnificent gown hanging on the rack, its silver pearls winking under the chandelier.