Chapter 517 Don't Push It
Evelyn turned to her, her expression icy, "Do I need to report my actions to you?"
"You!" Lucia was infuriated again, convinced Evelyn must be her nemesis.
""Lucia, all the stylists here are professionals. You should trust their expertise. If you really can't, help yourself," Evelyn suggested with a nod toward the styling tools, her tone less than friendly.
Letting go of the stylist's hand, Evelyn scoffed, "Fine, I'll do it myself."
Creating a stunning look was hardly a challenge for her. She trusted her own skills over those of a stylist who apparently lacked any sense of appreciation.
Evelyn moved over to a styling station, calling over her shoulder to the woman who had just spoken, "And from now on, call me by my name or... 'Lady Kyte'."
Lucia? Didn't she have a name of her own?
That woman, her face turning beet red with anger, was left speechless. Given Evelyn's status as a 'Lady Kyte,' now higher than Lucia's, she couldn't afford to offend her.
With no further interruption, Evelyn began curling her hair to her own satisfaction.
The dressing room fell temporarily quiet, with Lucia and her clique seething yet powerless against Evelyn.
They had previously instructed the stylist to sabotage Evelyn's look, but it was clear now that their plan had failed spectacularly.
After finishing her hair and makeup to perfection, Evelyn stood up to select a gown. The dresses on offer were standard rental options, far from her preferred choice.
Turning around, she caught a glimpse of Lucia and company, each adorned in this year's haute couture from luxury brands—a striking contrast to the ordinary options.
Sensing her gaze, Lucia froze. Evelyn couldn't possibly tell the difference, could she? Coming from such humble beginnings, discerning between prêt-à-porter and haute couture seemed out of her league.
"What's wrong, sis? Don't see anything you like?" Lucia asked, feigning concern.
Evelyn smirked, finding this petty trick utterly dull, "Yeah, or maybe you should offer the one you're wearing to me; I bet it would fit just right."
Taken aback, Lucia's face momentarily stiffened. She had never met someone as blunt as Evelyn in her life. "Well, that might not be such a good idea. This dress was tailored to my measurements—it's unlikely you'd be able to squeeze into it," Lucia demurred, while internally cursing Evelyn up and down.
Evelyn gave her a once-over and then nodded in agreement. "Yeah, you're probably right. Especially around certain areas."
The next second, Lucia clutched her chest in mock offense, glaring at Evelyn. "You... Don't you dare take it too far!"
Evelyn chuckled and turned to leave, realizing she was out of options for the dress here—it was time to handle it herself. But this wasn't a big deal for her; after all, it was just a dress, something she could easily take care of.
She whipped out her phone, ready to call Sarah, who used to own a sizeable fashion company back in Columbia and likely had a vast network.
But before she could dial, her phone rang instead. It was Dermot. Without overthinking, she answered, "What's up?"
"Where are you?" Dermot asked.
After Evelyn relayed the name of the salon, Dermot responded, "Wait for me at the entrance."
Before Evelyn could inquire further, the call was disconnected, leaving her staring at her phone in confusion, wondering what Dermot could want with her at this time.
Though puzzled, she decided not to dwell on it and stepped out of the salon to wait for Dermot's arrival.
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