"Anastasia, making wild accusations without a single piece of evidence just proves you're a malicious gossip," Evelyn stated coolly.

A faint, mocking smile played on her lips. Her eyes held a dangerous glint. "For all you know, the gown I'm wearing could be the authentic piece from Mr. Montclair's collection. Yours might be the counterfeit."

She gestured dismissively towards Anastasia's dress, her expression one of pure amusement. "Look. It seems your stitching is already coming loose."

Anastasia's face flushed a deep, furious red. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She glared at Evelyn with pure, unadulterated hatred. Her entire body shook with rage. "Evelyn!"

Evelyn's smile vanished, replaced by a flash of irritation. "You are unbelievably stubborn. My husband gave me this dress. How dare you question its authenticity?"

Anastasia gritted her teeth, her voice echoing in the suddenly quiet room. "Fine! Just you wait! I'll have my husband call Mr. Montclair right now. Not only will you owe me a massive compensation, but you'll also be stripping off that fake dress and crawling on your knees around this hotel, begging for my forgiveness!"

Evelyn watched Anastasia's inflated ego with growing impatience.

She found it impossible to believe the celebrated designer Julian would ever attach his name to such mediocre workmanship.

She studied the fabric and the cut of the dress on Anastasia's figure. The design aesthetic was completely wrong for Julian Montclair.

Furthermore, it was utterly inconceivable that Alexander would ever give her a forgery.

"Go ahead. Call him," Evelyn challenged, her tone icy.

Completely unruffled, Evelyn crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. She was the picture of calm assurance.

Her relaxed posture infuriated Anastasia, who shot her a venomous look before quickly dialing her husband to get Julian's number.

"Mr. Montclair? Is this a good time to talk?" she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

After hanging up, Anastasia turned with a triumphant smirk. "You're finished, Evelyn. Mr. Montclair is nearby. He'll be here any moment. You have no idea what's coming. Wearing a cheap imitation in front of the master himself? You will absolutely infuriate him!"

Evelyn remained perfectly cool. She casually pulled a chair over and sat down. With an air of utter nonchalance, she replied, "Fine. I'll wait right here for Mr. Montclair. Let's see which one of us is actually wearing the fake."

Anastasia's anger had melted away, replaced by giddy anticipation of Evelyn's impending humiliation.

Her eyes shone with excitement.

Rebecca looked back and forth between Anastasia and Evelyn, thoroughly confused.

What was Evelyn thinking? Did she genuinely believe Anastasia was the one in a knockoff?

Anastasia was the wealthiest woman in their class. She never settled for anything less than the real thing.

A low murmur spread through the crowd, a mix of curiosity and sheer entertainment.

"Anastasia wouldn't lie about this. She claims her dress is one-of-a-kind. It has to be real."

"But Evelyn doesn't seem worried at all. So who's telling the truth?"

"This is insane. Who knew a college reunion could turn into such a spectacle? This is better than any soap opera!"

"Honestly, I'd pay to see Evelyn do a walk of shame."

"Enough! Be quiet!"

The tension was thick enough to cut when a waiter entered, silencing the buzz. "Good evening. Mr. Julian Montclair has arrived," he announced, scanning the room. "He was invited by a guest. Shall I let him in?"

At this, Anastasia straightened up, barely able to contain her excitement. She practically jumped from her seat. "Yes! Bring him in. Now!"

Her voice was a commanding, thrilled shriek.