Trash Husband, I'm the Top novel Chapter 8

Eleanor bit her lip, her eyes red and brimming with tears.

Daniel reached out protectively, shielding Eleanor. “It’s just a dress,” he said, dismissively.

Aurora met his gaze, calm yet stubborn. “This isn’t just any dress. Una designed it for me, specifically.”

It was her armor—a statement piece she’d chosen for this important evening.

With divorce on her mind, she’d decided to start building her own network, which was why she’d come to the Perfumery Congress in the first place.

She never imagined things would unfold this way.

Daniel stepped closer, sliding an arm around Aurora’s shoulders. His voice was low, almost gentle. “You’re not well. Why are you even here?”

Disappointment soured within Aurora. Once again, Daniel was sidestepping the issue for Eleanor’s sake.

She’d been standing right in front of him for five minutes, but he hadn’t shown a shred of concern for her health. Now, he only brought it up to cover for Eleanor.

It was pathetic.

She shrugged off Daniel’s feigned tenderness and looked straight at Eleanor, lips curving into a faint smile. “Ms. Quinn, wearing someone else’s dress without permission isn’t exactly ethical.”

A hundred curious eyes turned their way.

Eleanor, mortified, instinctively edged closer to Daniel.

“Aurora, just let Eleanor have the dress,” Daniel said, patronizing. “I’ll have someone send you the latest collection tomorrow. You’re not feeling well—why don’t you go back to the hospital and get some rest?”

Aurora shook her head, a serene smile on her lips. “No, thank you. From now on, I’ll decide what happens to my things.”

Her husband, her family—Eleanor could have them. Aurora was done fighting over what was never truly hers.

But what was hers, she would never surrender.

Like this dress. If she didn’t want to give it up, no one could force her.

Daniel’s expression hardened, his disappointment with Aurora clear.

He took Eleanor by the wrist and led her away.

Aurora lowered her gaze, her expression unreadable.

Una, furious, hissed under her breath, “What a pair of hypocrites.”

“It’s all right, Una,” Aurora said quietly. She’d made peace with it—she’d lost her child, her marriage was over. If she kept getting angry about this, she’d only be hurting herself.

About half an hour later, Eleanor returned in a pastel pink gown. She walked over, clutching a bag in her hand, lips pressed together, clearly aggrieved.

“Aurora, here.”

Aurora took the bag and, without a second thought, handed it to a passing waiter. “Could you please throw this away for me?”