How To Build A Wardrobe That Looks Good On You?

On our wedding day, my bride insists on wearing an old, beat-up watch with the million-dollar wedding dress I buy her. I call off the wedding on the spot. She looks at me in shock. "You called off the wedding just because of a watch?" I take out the divorce agreement and tell her to sign. "Yes. Because of that watch." Everyone calls me crazy. They cannot believe I would end a ten-year relationship over something so worthless and file for divorce in front of everyone. Dad walks up and slaps me across the face. "Get on your knees, you disgrace." My mother-in-law shrieks that I have ruined her daughter's future by returning her like damaged goods. I look at the watch on her wrist, which is stopped at 3:07, and I smile. Then, I phone my assistant. "It's time. Release everything. I want a divorce."

My husband dotes on me. He's always saying I'm the one he cherishes most in this life. Everyone else envies me too, saying I married well—pampered like a princess. It all started when I mentioned, offhand, that tailored cuts flatter my figure. From that moment on, he kept it in mind every day, going out of his way to gather all kinds of designer womenswear for me. In the walk-in closet at home, there's always a wardrobe filled exclusively with my new clothes—each piece haute couture, with exquisite fabrics and impeccable craftsmanship. On New Year's Eve in our third year of marriage, the house was lively, packed with relatives chatting and laughing. With a smile, my husband handed me a gift box. "Go on, open your New Year's present." The frustration and resentment I'd been bottling up for so long exploded in an instant. I shoved the box to the floor. "It's the New Year—can you just stop for once?" The moment the words left my mouth, everyone fell silent. The relatives' expressions shifted; one after another, they began to scold me for being ungrateful, for not knowing how lucky I was. My husband looked at me, eyes full of shock and hurt. "I just bought you some pretty clothes. Why are you angry?" Amid their pointing fingers and his wounded questioning, I rushed into the walk-in closet like I'd lost my mind, dragging out those designer clothes and throwing them all over the floor. Everyone stared at me, stunned. No one said another word.

In college, Elara Hayes was invisible, a quiet wallflower, mocked and overlooked. One drunken night, she made the mistake of sleeping with the golden boy, Leonard Shaw. By morning, he denied it, mocked her, and turned the entire campus against her. She left, broken and disgraced. Years later, Elara is no longer the girl he humiliated. She's now the face behind a rising fashion empire, cloaked in elegance, success, and unshakable poise. When fate brings Leonard back into her life at a prestigious award ceremony, he doesn't recognize the woman he once destroyed. But she remembers everything. And this time, she’s not here to be ignored, she’s here to rewrite the story. On her terms.

My five-year marriage with Alexander was like a couture gown, ripped to shreds. "I want Victoria to show your collection for the New York Fashion Week spring preview." My husband Alexander's voice cut through the sketch I was working on. I stopped drawing. I must have heard him wrong. "What did you say?" "Victoria is new. She needs a platform. Your new spring collection is the perfect springboard for her." "You're a showstopper every year. What's the harm in giving her one shot?" he asked, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. "Besides, the brand needs new blood." I stared at the man I'd spent five years with. Suddenly, his face looked sharp, unfamiliar. "Do you have any idea how many nights I've stayed up working on this collection? And you want to give it to some new assistant?" "Evelyn, don't be so petty. It's just a preview." His expression turned cold. "I've already decided." I clenched my fists, a thousand emotions churning inside me. Fine. If you're going to treat me like this, don't blame me for leaving you.

Fashion designer Sylvania Scarlet is about to marry Russell Thompson. But just as she says her vows, masked gunmen storm in. They don’t just steal her wedding ring; they take jewelry, money, and other valuables. But one thing stands out… her ring was meant for someone called "The Don." Shocked and confused, Sylvania becomes obsessed with finding out who The Don is. As she searches for answers, her marriage starts falling apart. Russell, once loving, becomes violent, forcing her to run away and start over. Wanting to rebuild her life, Sylvania starts her own fashion business, Scarlet Fashions, and quickly becomes famous. But she doesn’t know that long before the wedding, she had already caught the eye of a powerful man. Zagaff Manscent, a feared Mafia boss, has been at war with his rival, Victor Morano. When Zagaff first saw Sylvania in a newspaper, he was drawn to her beauty and talent. He wanted her, but he knew the risks. Victor would do anything to hurt him, even going after someone he loved. To protect Sylvania, Zagaff pushed his feelings aside and stayed away. But after the wedding robbery, Zagaff is furious, convinced that Victor is behind it, making their war even worse. One night at Divas Deluxe, Sylvania meets The Don; the man she has been searching for. She is drawn to him, unaware of the deadly battle surrounding him. As they grow closer, Sylvania finds herself caught between Russell, who refuses to let her go, and Zagaff. Then, she finds out she’s pregnant. With danger all around and the fight between Zagaff and Victor Morano getting worse, Sylvania must make a choice among Love, Power, or Revenge. Will she survive this dangerous game… or become its next victim?

On the day I went to try on my wedding dress, Enzo had said he would come with me—but he never showed up. The train of the gown was too long. I stood alone in front of the mirror, bending over again and again to fix it more than a dozen times. The third time I stepped on the hem, my phone finally buzzed. 'Natalie just came back and isn't used to the weather here. I'll go pick her up. You try on the dress first.' The next second, a new post popped up on social media. Natalie had uploaded a photo. In it, Enzo was crouched in front of her, one hand wrapped around her slender ankle as he carefully fastened the strap of her high heels. The caption was only one line. 'He still couldn't bear to let me bend down.' When I tapped into the post, I saw that Enzo had already liked it. The bridal assistant sensed the shift in the air and tried to comfort me in a low voice. "Ms. Blackwood, Mr. Beck really cares about you. He was worried you might secretly diet and hurt your health, so he specifically told us not to alter the waistline any further." I smiled. He cared about me, yes. But his care had never stopped him from favoring someone else. I lowered my head and looked at the wedding dress on my body. Then it suddenly struck me. The thing that did not fit had never been the dress. It was this wedding.