Revenge is My Love Language novel Chapter 31

For a brief, breathless moment, the entire ballroom fell silent. Every pair of eyes snapped to the grand entrance.

There, at the center of their attention, was a young woman making her way inside with effortless grace.

Her eyes glittered like cut glass, clear and striking. Delicate features framed her face, soft as a rose in bloom. She wore a lake-blue evening gown, the hem sparkling with tiny crystals that shimmered with each step—like she was trailing a river of stars behind her.

Tonight, Anastasia’s dress had been specially commissioned by Harrison himself, and her hair and makeup were put together by a professional team he’d arranged.

Of course, she wasn’t foolish enough to wear the dress Penelope had sent her. With Harrison’s status, was she ever lacking for an evening gown?

“Am I seeing things?” someone whispered in shock. “That girl… she looks just like Anastasia, doesn’t she?”

“Was Anastasia always this pretty? I only remember her in those garish outfits and wild makeup, looking like a circus clown…”

Penelope’s smile faltered, her nails digging deep into her palm until she almost broke the skin.

How could Anastasia look like this?

Seeing so many people in the ballroom utterly stunned, Penelope was close to grinding her teeth to dust.

Nearby, someone leaned toward Nora, astonished. “Your stepdaughter cleans up well! Why did she look so ridiculous before?”

Nora’s heart dropped.

Again. Anastasia was slipping out of her control—again.

Was this just a coincidence, or had someone at Rosewood Manor taught her?

She forced a wry smile. “Who knows what goes through that girl’s head? She used to like dressing herself that way. I didn’t want to meddle too much.”

On Penelope’s side of the room—

“What’s going on? Penelope, didn’t you say Anastasia would be wearing that dress you picked out?”

A few society girls glanced at Penelope, expecting answers.

Penelope forced a smile. “I have no idea. I’ll go ask her…”

Penelope’s heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth to protest, but Anastasia’s voice rang out—clear and bright, carrying across the hall.

“Penelope, didn’t you say you liked this dress? I brought it for you—why not wear it tonight?”

“And you and Mrs. Sinclair really don’t need to pick out my clothes anymore. Maybe you both think these are lovely, but I certainly don’t!”

“In the past, when you insisted I wear them, I didn’t have a choice. I wore them for your sake. But now, I don’t want to—my husband says they look ridiculous, too!”

She made no effort to lower her voice, letting her irritation show for all to hear.

For a moment, the crowd was stunned into silence.

Then, everyone started glancing between Penelope and Nora with new, complicated expressions.

All this time, Anastasia had been the butt of every joke. Mention her, and people pictured garish makeup and clownish clothes—no one her age wanted anything to do with her.

But now, hearing her words, it was painfully clear: her outlandish image had been crafted by Nora and her daughter all along.