Chapter 153

Every waking moment, she dreamed of becoming Alexander's wife, of finally bearing the prestigious title of Mrs. Blackwood. Yet three years had slipped by without any progress in their relationship.

Three years of waiting had worn her patience thin.

The golden afternoon sun bathed Willowbrook Airport in warm light. A cherubic little girl tugged at the hem of a young woman's sundress.

"Mommy, I'm hungry," Amelia whined, her big eyes pleading.

The woman turned gracefully, her chestnut waves catching the breeze. A radiant smile lit up her striking features as she scooped up the elfin child. "Let's find something delicious, sweetheart."

As she walked, heads turned. Her effortless elegance commanded attention, drawing admiring glances from passersby.

After settling their luggage, she took Amelia out for food.

"Burger first, Mommy!"

"Of course, darling." Vivian Prescott chuckled.

"You're the best mommy ever!" Amelia threw her tiny arms around Vivian's neck, planting a loud kiss on her cheek.

Vivian's laughter revealed charming dimples. She tweaked her daughter's nose. "Such flattery! Who taught you that?"

"Daddy did!" Amelia declared solemnly.

Vivian's smile faltered momentarily before she masked it with another laugh.

The Golden Arches buzzed with weekend crowds.

Hand in hand, they ordered at the counter before finding a booth.

Soon, Amelia's crystal blue eyes sparkled with desire. "Mommy, I want that!" She pointed at a plush toy accompanying the children's meal.

"Wait here, sweet pea. I'll get your ducky."

"Thank you, Mommy!"

Vivian returned to the counter. When she turned back, her blood ran cold - the booth stood empty.

Her carefully constructed calm shattered. For the first time in years, panic clawed at her throat.

Then she spotted them - a tall, broad-shouldered man rising from a corner table with Amelia beside him.

"Thank you, mister!" Amelia's polite voice carried across the room.

Vivian's breath caught when the man turned his profile.

Her fingers trembled as she retrieved her sunglasses. Just as she prepared to intervene, a familiar figure materialized between the tables.

Victoria Lancaster.

The woman who'd murdered her newborn, scarred her face, stolen her sight, and cruelly deceived her with fake photographs of her dead child.

Fate had a twisted sense of humor.

Behind her dark lenses, Vivian's eyes narrowed.

'Victoria Lancaster, since I survived, your days are numbered.'

'This time, I'll make you pay in blood.'

Amelia suddenly looked up, spotting Vivian. Her face lit up with recognition, tiny lips parting to call out—