After a brief pause, Ambrose summoned someone to bring some dresses. "Hazel," he said softly, "I know you've been busy, so I asked Scarlett to select a wedding dress for you. See if any appeal to you."

Scarlett leaned in close, her voice ringing cheerfully. "Sis, I'm your bridesmaid, remember? We'll walk down the aisle together, and everyone will see how stunning we both look!"

Her father, beaming with affection, ruffled Scarlett's hair. Ambrose also grinned at the father-daughter moment, clearly pleased.

But Hazel couldn't take her eyes off the wedding dress before her. The fabric was yellowed and thin, a large tear marring the chest. It contrasted sharply with Scarlett's elegant bridesmaid dress, featuring delicate lace and a fishtail silhouette. If anyone looked like a bride, it was Scarlett.

Scarlett twirled with delight. "It's gorgeous! A crown would make it perfect."

Ambrose immediately replied, "Easily arranged. Hazel has one, doesn't she? She's the older sister; she wouldn't mind lending it." His gaze shifted to Hazel, pausing as he saw the damaged dress in her hands. "How did this happen?"

Hazel's eyes flicked toward Scarlett. Before she could speak, Ambrose protectively stepped in front of her. "It must have been a shop error. It's nothing to do with Scarlett. I'll have someone fix it immediately."

Scarlett feigned concern, her voice sweetly mocking. "But it's so late. The shops must be closed... How about we borrow a secondhand dress? After all, didn't you always want a simple wedding, Sis?"

All eyes turned to Hazel. For two powerful families, finding a new dress wouldn't be a problem. Yet, they seemed content to let Hazel compromise. She had always borne the brunt of their demands.

"It's fine. I wouldn't want to trouble anyone," Hazel replied with a graceful smile. "You all have your own matters. I'll handle it myself." Her smile eased the tension.

The group resumed their chatter as if Hazel's silent suffering was nonexistent. Ambrose's gaze lingered on her; his heart ached knowing how much this wedding meant to her, yet his hands felt tied. He feared the disappointment in her eyes.

With a quiet sigh, he produced a bank card, handing it to her gently. "Don't worry about the cost. Whatever makes you happy matters."

Hazel hesitated, the card feeling like a barrier. Her acceptance was simple, her gratitude unspoken. That soft "thank you" hung in the air, a silent line drawn between them. Ambrose's chest tightened, discomfort swirling within, yet the words to bridge the gap eluded him.

Scarlett, ever the opportunist, retrieved a camera. "Let's take a family photo now. Tomorrow will be chaotic." Ambrose readily agreed, drawing Hazel to the center, her presence a stark contrast to the storm in his chest.

As the shutter clicked, Scarlett darted forward, pushing Hazel, who tumbled to the floor. Ambrose's heart lurched. "Hazel!" he cried, reaching for her.

But Scarlett burst into tears. Ambrose hesitated for only a heartbeat, three seconds of indecision. Then, he turned to Scarlett, abandoning Hazel to crash against a shelf, gently pulling Scarlett into his arms, wiping away her feigned tears with a tenderness that chilled Hazel to the bone.