Evelyn’s brow furrowed further. Her voice was like ice as she corrected Genevieve. "This creation is Evelyn’s masterpiece. If anyone is to assist me with the fitting, it should be her. You lack the intimate understanding of its design. Improper handling could easily ruin it."

Her words hung sharply in the air, leaving Genevieve momentarily speechless. A flush of surprise and humiliation spread across her face.

Swallowing her pride, Genevieve forced a tight smile. "You're absolutely right, Mrs. Sterling."

With a dismissive turn of her head, Anthea—now Beatrice—beckoned to Evelyn. "Well, don't just stand there. Let's begin the fitting."

"Of course," Evelyn replied respectfully, following Beatrice up the grand staircase.

Two maids trailed behind them, carrying the exquisite gown with reverent care. Their footsteps were silent on the polished marble.

Genevieve was left alone in the foyer. Her cheeks burned with a rage she could barely contain.

That conniving bitch, Evelyn! She must have been poisoning Beatrice's mind against her!

She would make Evelyn regret this. Soon.

Upstairs, Evelyn and Beatrice entered a private dressing room.

The maids carefully arranged the dress on a stand before quietly excusing themselves, closing the door behind them.

Beatrice reflected on Genevieve's transparent attempts with a mix of amusement and contempt.

So obvious. Even after all these years, the girl still thought her manipulations were subtle.

Dealing with her was utterly exhausting.

Beatrice felt a pang of sympathy for Evelyn. She must have endured far worse from Genevieve's schemes.

Her gaze softened as she watched Evelyn meticulously prepare the gown. Her movements were graceful and precise.

Beatrice had been a dear friend of Alexander's late mother. She had always viewed Alexander with almost maternal affection.

She had long resigned herself to the idea of him remaining a lifelong bachelor. Finding Evelyn had been a wonderful surprise.

It had ignited a protective instinct within Beatrice.

Breaking the comfortable silence, Beatrice asked warmly, "And how are things progressing at Aethelgard Industries? Are you settling in well with your colleagues?"

Evelyn offered a gentle, reassuring smile. "Quite well, thank you."

Beatrice emitted a skeptical hum, her eyebrows arching. "I'm not so sure. Consider the woman you arrived with today. Her behavior was calculated. A clear attempt to ingratiate herself."

She continued, "I reviewed the designer list Nathaniel sent for this project. Genevieve's name was not on it. What is her role here, exactly? You should be cautious. Aren't you worried I might decide to collaborate with her instead?"

Evelyn straightened her posture, her expression calm and self-assured. "Mrs. Sterling, I have complete faith in my abilities and in your discernment. I trust you will make the wisest choice."

A chuckle escaped Beatrice, amused by the poised response. She teased lightly, "Oh? So if I don't choose you, it means my judgment is poor?"

Evelyn's lips curved into a sly smile. "Not at all, Mrs. Sterling. You misunderstand me. I was merely expressing my confidence in your decision-making."

Beatrice was thoroughly reassured. Evelyn's sharp wit and composure convinced her that Genevieve posed no real threat.

If anything, it was Genevieve who needed to be careful. She should stop provoking Evelyn before she faced serious consequences.

"Alright, enough talk. Let me try on this dress. I've been looking forward to this all day," Beatrice declared, her voice filled with eager anticipation.

Soon, Evelyn was assisting Beatrice into the stunning gown.

Standing before the full-length mirror, Beatrice twirled slowly. A radiant smile illuminated her face as she admired her reflection. She was utterly delighted.