Sorry for Your Loss, It's Me, I'm the Loss novel Chapter 42

"I've never heard of Yvonne knowing anyone like Mr. Cooper. If she did, my mother wouldn't have been waiting years for a dress she still hasn't received," Queena muttered, her voice just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Yvonne, when did you meet Hobart?" Teresa asked, equally confused.

The Spencer women's doubts began to sway the other guests.

"The dress is probably a fake."

"Besides the Thompsons, Istra's most powerful family, who can actually commission Mr. Cooper?"

"These knockoffs are so convincing these days."

Whispers spread through the room.

A flicker of triumph crossed Queena's face as she waited for Yvonne's impending humiliation. The idea of a country bumpkin shamelessly boasting about knowing Mr. Cooper was just too amusing.

"Mr. Cooper uses a unique tailoring method. If you don't believe me, you can open up a seam and see for yourselves," Yvonne said, addressing the skeptics.

Hobart was indeed difficult to commission, but Yvonne's mother, Monica, had been a gown aficionado and had a rather special connection with him. Yvonne knew exactly how to handle the eccentric old man.

Verna hesitated, her hand clutching the gown. What if it was real? What if she ruined it?

"Verna, let it go," Queena said with false sympathy. "Yvonne is your brother's fiancée. Imagine how embarrassed she'll be if everyone finds out she gave your mother a fake."

As expected, Queena's words had the opposite effect. Verna called for a maid.

"Gina, bring me a pair of scissors. I'm going to expose Yvonne's lies right here and now."

"Verna, stop this nonsense!" Mrs. Gonzalez snapped, her face cold.

"Exactly. It's just a dress. Yvonne can just ask Mr. Cooper to make another one," Teresa chimed in.

Yvonne almost laughed out loud. If it's so easy, why don't you go order a dozen of them wholesale?

"Verna, apologize to Yvonne," Mrs. Gonzalez commanded, her face stern. She was a reasonable woman and knew her daughter was in the wrong.

"S-sorry," Verna mumbled, lowering her head under her mother's glare.

Forced to apologize to the country bumpkin she despised in front of everyone, Verna felt utterly humiliated. The second the word left her lips, she turned and fled.

"Verna!" Queena tried to use the opportunity to slip away, but Yvonne grabbed her arm.

"Did I say you could go? You slandered someone. Don't you think you owe them an apology?" Yvonne's grip on Queena's wrist was like iron, her gaze sharp and unforgiving.