Chapter 1: The Dress That Was Never Meant to Be Touched
The heavy iron gates of Ashcroft Manor slowly creaked open.
Every head turned.
A dark luxury sedan rolled across the gravel driveway, followed by two police vehicles.
The laughter vanished.
My future aunt, Vivian, still held the torn piece of fabric in her hand like a trophy.
"What is this?" she scoffed. "Did you actually call the police because I ripped an old dress?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I gently wiped the tears from my daughter Lily's face.
"It's all right, sweetheart," I whispered. "No one will ever hurt you again."
A tall elderly gentleman stepped out of the first car.
The moment the manor owner saw him, he nearly dropped his champagne glass.
"Mr. Hawthorne..."
The guests began whispering.
"The textile historian?"
"The royal consultant?"
"What is he doing here?"
Mr. Hawthorne walked directly toward Lily.
His eyes immediately filled with sadness when he saw the destroyed dress.
"Oh... no."
His voice trembled.
"They actually destroyed it."
Vivian laughed.
"It's just an ugly old dress."
Mr. Hawthorne slowly turned toward her.
"No, madam."
"That was not a dress."
"That was a two-hundred-year-old restoration piece commissioned for the National Museum."
The entire courtyard fell silent.
He carefully unfolded official documents.
"The embroidery was hand-stitched by descendants of the original artisans."
"The lace was restored over eight years."
"It was being transported privately before tomorrow's exhibition."
Every guest stared at the torn fabric in Vivian's hands.
She looked down for the first time.
Her smile disappeared.
The police officer stepped forward.
"Mrs. Vivian Carter?"
She nodded nervously.
"We need that fabric as evidence."
Suddenly the piece of cloth she had proudly displayed moments earlier became the most expensive thing she had ever touched.
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And the realization finally struck her.
She had destroyed history.
