Chapter 165

Victoria Lancaster sensed danger looming. With practiced ease, she faked another ankle injury, instructing her mother Margaret Dawson to embellish the story to Alexander Blackwood. Her goal? Lure him back to the Montgomery estate.

The lavish bedroom sprawled before her, every surface adorned with opulence. Even the walk-in closet overflowed with designer labels that rightfully belonged to Evelyn Sinclair. Victoria felt no remorse—not even for Sophia Montgomery's death, which filled her with smug satisfaction over her ruthless efficiency.

Only a woman of her intellect and cunning deserved high society's privileges. Neither Evelyn nor Sophia had been worthy opponents. How could she possibly lose to some upstart like Vivian Prescott?

Hearing Alexander's approaching footsteps, Victoria instantly transformed into a fragile invalid. She arranged herself pitifully against the pillows, eyes glistening with manufactured tears. "Alexander, you came."

His gaze dropped to her heavily bandaged leg. "Are you hurt badly?"

"Now that you're here, the pain is bearable." Victoria extended a trembling hand, desperate for his touch.

Alexander remained just out of reach. "If you're stable, I should return to work. My schedule is packed today."

Victoria's expression shattered. "Alexander, don't go!" In a calculated move, she tumbled dramatically from the bed, sobbing as she clutched at his trousers. "Please don't leave me alone!"

Tears streamed down her cheeks as she launched into her rehearsed speech. "Why this coldness after three years? Why won't you marry me? Have you stopped loving me? Forgotten your promise to make me your wife? Or do you believe Evelyn's dying lie that I blinded her?"

Alexander froze at the word "lie." Why did it suddenly sound so hollow?

"Alexander—"

His ringing phone interrupted her. Vivian's melodic voice carried clearly through the speaker. "Mr. Blackwood, the orchids arrived. They're exquisite."

The silence amplified every word. Victoria recognized that voice instantly—Vivian! Rage boiled in her veins as Alexander responded with uncharacteristic warmth. She nearly combusted on the spot.

"Rest well. I have meetings." His curt dismissal preceded retreating footsteps.

Moments later, an engine roared to life outside. Victoria sprang from bed, humiliation and fury propelling her into a destructive rampage. Designer pillows flew, crystal vases shattered against walls.

After purging her anger, she selected a couture dress and matching Birkin before storming to Diamond Boulevard. The boutique's entrance overflowed with floral arrangements—including Alexander's distinctive white orchids. Seeing them, Victoria's vision tinted red.

She entered with forced poise, maintaining her socialite mask despite the inferno inside. This upscale shopping district meant potential paparazzi everywhere. But remembering how Alexander had prioritized Vivian over her, her smile turned brittle.

"Vivian Prescott! Show yourself!" Her shrill demand turned heads.

A sales associate approached. "Miss, may I help you locate our owner?"

"Owner?" Victoria's laugh dripped venom. "Fetch Vivian immediately. I demand an audience."

She barely finished when a cool voice spoke behind her. "I'm Vivian. Miss Lancaster, what an unexpected... pleasure."