Chapter 299

A voice echoed from the bathroom, passionately defending Victoria.

Alexander's glacial stare swept through the room like an arctic gale. "You let her stay here?"

"What's wrong with Victoria living here?" Margaret Blackwood countered, her tone growing increasingly defiant. "She's your fiancée, and you share Ethan together. A family should live together!"

Her words rang with misplaced confidence, oblivious to the storm brewing in Alexander's eyes.

"After everything Victoria's endured, it's your duty as her fiancé to comfort her," Margaret continued, patting Victoria's shoulder protectively. "Not waste time with that scheming woman!"

Her expression hardened as she glared at her son. "I know you like to make your own decisions, Alexander, but you will listen to me this time. I'm your mother! Stay away from Vivian Prescott—she's nothing but trouble. She's definitely involved in what happened to Victoria!"

"Did you remove the photograph?" Alexander's voice cut through the air like a blade.

Both women flinched. Margaret lifted her chin defiantly. "So what if I did? That woman died years ago. Why keep her picture hanging like some shrine? It disgusts me! If you want wedding photos, hang ones with Victoria!"

She crossed her arms, unaware of the icy aura thickening around her. "I've already had her things cleared out. Every trace of that woman is gone."

Alexander turned sharply and strode to the closet.

Yanking it open, he found Evelyn's few remaining garments replaced by Victoria's designer wardrobe. His grip on the door turned white-knuckled, veins standing out against his pale skin. A blizzard raged in his darkened eyes.

His mother's voice pursued him. "Victoria is staying here permanently. I'll announce your marriage to the press. Make sure that witch knows her place and disappears!"

The closet door slammed with enough force to make both women jump.

"It's not her who needs to disappear." Alexander's voice dripped with lethal calm.

Margaret finally registered the danger in her son's demeanor. "Alexander! How dare you speak to me like this? I'm your—"

"You will return every item you removed by tonight," he interrupted, each word precise as a scalpel. "Or you can forget being Margaret Blackwood."

Her mouth fell open. For the first time, she noticed the murderous glint in his eyes—like he might carve her heart out with his bare hands.

Her bravado crumbled. "A-Alexander, I only want what's best for you! Can't you see how traumatized Victoria is—"

"Everything will be exactly as it was before I return." He turned on his heel, leaving them gaping in his wake.

The moment he hit the driveway, Alexander punched the accelerator. Fury radiated from him in waves.

He dialed Vivian while driving.

The call connected. "I need you," he demanded without preamble. "I'm pulling up now."

He hung up before she could refuse, then powered off his phone—ensuring she couldn't call back.

When the elevator doors opened to reveal Vivian waiting in her lobby, the tempest inside him stilled.

The sight of her—so like Evelyn—soothed the raging storm in his soul. For one suspended moment, he could pretend his wife still lived.

The illusion was bittersweet agony.