Chapter 198

Victoria stormed into the Montgomery manor, her chest heaving with barely contained rage. The moment she crossed the threshold, the housekeeper Beatrice hurried forward with a tray.

"Miss Victoria, you look upset. Some tea and macarons might help calm your nerves." Beatrice offered a practiced smile.

"Since when do servants question their betters?" Victoria snapped, tossing her designer bag onto the marble console. "Where's Mother?"

The distant purr of a luxury engine answered her. Beatrice glanced toward the driveway. "Madam Kingsley has just arrived."

Victoria's demeanor shifted instantly. "Tell her I'm in my suite when she asks." She snatched up her bag and swept up the grand staircase without another glance.

Beatrice's smile vanished the moment Victoria's back turned. Her fingers tightened around the tray. "You stole everything from sweet Sophia, you viper. She'd still be the Montgomery heiress if not for your scheming."

The click of designer heels announced Eleanor's arrival. "Beatrice, has Victoria returned?"

The housekeeper schooled her features into perfect deference. "Yes, Madam. Miss Victoria retired to her chambers moments ago."

Eleanor's face lit up as she ascended the stairs, clutching an exquisite velvet box. "Darling, wait until you see what I've brought you! Only my daughter deserves Lady Belle's latest collection. You'll outshine every socialite at Blackwood Enterprises' gala tonight—"

Her words died as she pushed open Victoria's bedroom door. The jewelry box clattered to the floor.

"Victoria Lancaster! Put that down this instant!" Eleanor lunged forward, wresting the letter opener from her daughter's trembling hands.

"Who dared hurt my precious girl?" Eleanor crushed Victoria to her chest, her pulse racing. After losing one daughter twenty years ago, she'd burn Willowbrook to the ground before losing another.

Victoria buried her face in Eleanor's shoulder, forcing ragged sobs. "It's unbearable, Mother. First Evelyn, now Vivian Prescott... Alexander barely glances at me anymore. She's always there—laughing with him, touching him—"

"Vivian Prescott?" Eleanor's blood ran cold. The spitting image of Evelyn Sinclair.

"What has that conniving little—"

"She humiliated me at the charity luncheon." Victoria's voice cracked perfectly. "Mocked how Alexander would never marry a Crawford impostor. She's using Ethan to get closer to him, and I think... I think he returns her feelings."

Tears streaked Victoria's carefully made-up face as she clutched Eleanor's hands. "I've loved Alexander since we were children at Pinecrest Heights. If I can't have him, I'd rather—"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence!" Eleanor's grip turned vice-like. "That gold-digging tart isn't worth your little finger. Let me handle this."

"No, Mother!" Victoria clung to Eleanor's arm. "If you confront her, she'll run to Alexander. I can't bear him thinking ill of me."

A calculated pause. Then, with trembling lips: "But there is another way... Will you help me?"

Eleanor cupped her daughter's face. "Anything, my darling. Name it."

Victoria's tear-filled eyes gleamed with something far darker than grief. "I need you to arrange an invitation for Vivian to the Blackwood gala." Her fingers tightened around Eleanor's. "Let me handle the rest."