The mansion was a perfect replica of the home Victoria and McNeil once shared.

As Victoria and Yasmine stepped into the foyer, they were greeted by a soaring six-meter-high ceiling. An enormous crystal chandelier poured light from above, shimmering across the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows surrounded them on all sides, looking out onto a snow-covered lawn-fresh flakes had blanketed the grass in the recent storms.

A voice called out from the grand spiral staircase. “McNeil, is that you?”

Descending slowly, Violet appeared in a wedding gown, each movement setting off a thousand points of light from the Swarovski crystals embedded in the fabric. She looked radiant and ethereal, the dress sparkling as she made her way down. Yasmine’s jaw dropped when she recognized the dress-wasn’t that Victoria’s…?

Victoria had braced herself for this, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of the wedding dress she’d spent nearly a year designing and perfecting, now clinging to Violet’s frame. The pain hit her like a punch.

From the top of the stairs, Violet had seen McNeil’s car pull up, but she hadn’t expected Victoria to walk in. Their eyes met. In that instant, Violet lost her footing and tumbled down the staircase.

A housekeeper, just returning from shoveling snow in the yard, gasped in horror. “Mrs. Langford-!”

Victoria lowered her gaze, a sly smile playing at her lips. “Mrs. Langford?”

Violet came to a stop at Victoria’s feet. Yasmine stepped in front of the housekeeper, blocking her path. “Who did you just call Mrs. Langford?”

Victoria wasn’t alone; she’d brought others with her. A line of men in dark suits- her security detail-stood behind her, their presence imposing.

The housekeeper was frozen in fear, clearly bewildered by the unfolding drama.

Violet struggled upright, awkward and disheveled, but managed to stand.

Victoria studied her-plump cheeks, flushed skin, not at all the look of someone supposedly at death’s door. In fact, the dress was a tight squeeze on Violet’s curvier frame, making her seem almost swollen. She was half a head shorter than Victoria, her proportions not nearly as graceful.

Even Yasmine couldn’t help but wonder how Violet had managed to wedge herself into that custom-made gown.

“Victoria—” Violet stammered, embarrassment coloring her voice. Victoria glanced around, confirming what she already suspected: every inch of this place was a carbon copy of her own home.

She moved to the familiar brown sofa, sat down gracefully, and lifted her chin, every gesture radiating poise and authority.

“Take it off,” she commanded coolly.

For a moment, Violet thought Victoria seemed reasonable, and her own courage grew. But with those two words, the air froze.

“This was a gift from McNeil,” Violet protested, her brow furrowing. The thought of taking off her dress in front of so many men-what was Victoria thinking?

Yasmine’s face turned red with anger. She’d never seen such shamelessness: it was bad enough to steal someone’s husband, but to wear her wedding dress too? “Don’t be ridiculous! That’s Mr. Langford’s gift for his wife. Are you Mrs. Langford? Just because you have the staff call you that, doesn’t make it true. Mrs. Langford and Mr. Langford have a marriage certificate-where’s yours?” Yasmine snapped, barely restraining the urge to slap Violet herself.

Violet drew herself up, emboldened by McNeil’s support. “Victoria, this is my house. You’re trespassing—if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.”

She shot Victoria a contemptuous glare. “And why are you driving McNeil’s car?”

Victoria met her gaze and, instead of the pain she should have felt, she surprised them all by smiling. “McNeil’s car is mine. And this mansion? McNeil bought it for you, right? Do you even understand what marital assets are?”

Violet was left speechless.

Victoria’s eyes landed on the wedding gown. Her tone was icy as she said, “So— are you going to take it off yourself, or should I have someone help you?”