This update brings a better experience to mark and filter Donated, Sold, Needs Repair, and Thrown Away clothes. Also delivers critical bug fixes and optimized performance.
Mysteries of the Dressrious Salon — Chapter 81
Camila hadn’t slept well since Hector disappeared. The constant weight of unease and anxiety had begun to bleed into her work, leaving her feeling completely out of sorts. That morning, even a simple ballet sequence felt like a struggle, requiring several grueling rehearsals just to find her footing. Paradoxically, the crying scenes were effortless; she only had to think of Hector’s empty side of the bed to trigger a natural, heartbreaking performance. Her afternoon was slated to film a confrontation with her character’s nemesis, played unsurprisingly by Karen Lawrence. The director seemed to take a perverse delight in the casting, as the friction between the two women was palpable even when the cameras weren’t rolling.
After lunch, she met the two detectives at a café near the studio. God, please, she whispered to herself, let them have good news.
They did have news, though it was chilling: they had confirmed that the man who had cleared out Hector’s belongings was an imposter.
“We’re looking for someone who knew him,” Trevor explained. “Someone slightly taller, with a military background, who owns the same boots and has likely been to your apartment before.”
“Do you remember any close friends or colleagues, perhaps from his service days, who have visited you?” Spion asked.
“We’ve had plenty of friends over,” Camila said, her brow furrowed as she thought. “But as for those with a military background, it would mostly be his coworkers from the Wounded Warrior Project: Randy, Will, Diego, Ben, and Justin. They play baseball together and go hiking sometimes. In fact, they all bought those same hiking boots together for a group trip. I have the photos he sent me.” She pulled out her phone and began scrolling through her gallery.
Trevor and Spion studied the photos, but without a height reference for the others, it was impossible to pick out a suspect.
“We’ll need to visit his workplace again,” Trevor decided. “But Camila, we also need to talk about Jack Goblinez. We know he’s been pursuing you, and we’re concerned he might be behind Hector’s disappearance.”
“Goblinez?” Camila asked, stunned. “He is indeed pursuing me, he sends gifts every week, mostly flowers and his latest toys, but I don’t think he’s capable of doing anything harmful. He has a reputation for being a playboy who’s chased half the women in the city; I didn’t even think he was serious about me. He actually invited me to dinner yesterday to express his concern about Hector’s disappearance. He even offered to help me find him.”
“That doesn’t absolve him,” Trevor said firmly. “We know for a fact he was aware that Hector planned to propose to you. That gives him a motive.”
“I don’t know what to think anymore,” Camila whispered. “He invited me to his gala next Thursday. I haven’t given him an answer.”
“Accept the invitation,” Trevor urged. “We’ll be there as well. It’s the perfect opportunity to see what he’s hiding.”
The meeting left Camila even more frayed. As she returned to the set, her mind spiraled. Someone impersonated Hector. They wanted it to look like he ran away. Why? Was Jack the mastermind, or just a distraction?
“No, you can’t!” Karen, dressed in the sharp blue silks of a snobbish socialite, hissed her lines. “You’re just a lowly, pathetic wretch. Don’t even dream of going to Paris!”
Camila stood frozen, her lines vanishing from her memory.
“Cut!” the director shouted. “Camila, if you’re unwell, we can call it a day.”
“I told you,” Karen muttered, adjusting her red dancing shoes with a resentful stomp. “She isn’t right for this role. She’s nothing but negative energy.”
“I’m sorry,” Camila said, her voice turning cold as she glared at Karen. “I’ll do better. Let’s go again.”
“Yes! That’s the look!” the director cried. “Action!”
The rest of the shoot went smoothly, fueled by Camila’s simmering anger. When she finally left the studio, the night air was biting and the sky was a hollow, cloudless black.
As she approached her apartment building, a movement caught her eye. A figure stood on the street corner, draped in a black coat that flowed like a cloak, their face hidden behind a dark balaclava.
A wave of strange familiarity washed over Camila. Without thinking, she took a cautious step toward the stranger. “Do I know you?”
The figure snapped their head toward her. For a heartbeat, they stared. Then, the stranger spun around and bolted, vanishing into the shadows of the alleyway before Camila could even scream.