Chapter 1
Today marked Victoria Turner and McNeil Langford’s sixth wedding anniversary. But instead of celebrating with his wife, McNeil had taken their daughter to a birthday party for his mistress.
Sitting behind the wheel of her sedan, Victoria watched in silence as her husband, their little girl, and the woman he’d hidden for six years celebrated together.
The young woman wore a bright red dress, bold and eye-catching. Their daughter was dressed in a matching outfit, the picture of innocence. McNeil stayed by their side, laughing and playing, looking every bit the proud father and devoted partner. To anyone else, they could have been mistaken for a perfect little family.
“Violet, happy birthday. This is my gift to you,” McNeil said, opening an elegantly wrapped jewelry box.
Victoria’s eyes locked onto the box as he slowly revealed its contents, and all the color drained from her face.
It was her mother’s emerald necklace-the one McNeil had borrowed, claiming he needed it for “something important.”
She remembered how, years ago, Violet Marchand had seen it around her neck and remarked offhandedly, “McNeil, I love that necklace. I wish I had one just like it.”
Now, her husband was presenting the last thing her mother left her to another
woman.
“Gwyn, come here and give Violet a kiss,” McNeil coaxed, gently guiding their daughter toward Violet.
Victoria pressed a hand to her chest. Gwyn-her daughter, the child she’d carried for nine months-had never warmed to anyone but her. She couldn’t imagine her little girl embracing another woman.
But then-
Gwyn leaned in and kissed Violet right on the forehead, then wrapped her in a big, affectionate hug.
“Violet, could you be my mommy too?” she asked, her voice sweet and trusting. Victoria’s mind reeled. When had Gwyn become so close to Violet?
Gwyneth Langford was the daughter McNeil had begged her to have. After a traumatic ectopic pregnancy that nearly cost Victoria her life, she’d been terrified at the prospect of another child. The Langford family had always passed down the family name through only sons, and McNeil was their sole heir. When she confessed her fears, McNeil had promised her it didn’t matter if they had a boy or a girl; their child would be cherished.
She’d heard rumors that Violet had nearly become the new Mrs. Langford-but she hadn’t been able to have children.
Now, Victoria wondered if McNeil was encouraging Gwyn to bond with Violet… Was he hoping to hand their daughter over to her?
She closed her eyes, unwilling to follow that line of thought any further.
Six years of marriage, months of pregnancy and pain, all for this. For love, she’d nearly died. And for what?
Had she just been a tool for McNeil all along?
She stared through the windshield, then picked up her phone and dialed McNeil’s number.
The phone rang loudly enough for her to hear it from inside the car. She watched as McNeil looked at the caller ID-but he didn’t answer. Not until Gwyneth tugged at his sleeve.
“Daddy, is that Mommy? If you don’t answer, she’ll threaten to hurt herself again.” Only then did McNeil finally swipe to accept the call.
“Victoria?” His voice was cold, detached-a world away from the gentle tones he reserved for Violet.
Victoria lowered her gaze. “Where have you taken Gwyn?”
McNeil glanced at Violet and Gwyneth, pressing a finger to his lips, signaling Gwyneth to stay quiet. The three of them shared the kind of secretive
understanding that only close-knit families do.
Silence stretched between them.
Victoria’s grip tightened on her phone, knuckles turning white.
“Today’s our anniversary. When are you coming home?”
McNeil hesitated, his expression faltering for a moment.
After a long pause, he finally spoke. “I remember. I bought you a present. I wanted to surprise you later.”
Just then, fireworks burst above the amusement park-exploding with a thunder that filled the air. Both Victoria and McNeil heard it clearly over the phone.
McNeil instinctively looked up.
There, straight ahead at twelve o’clock, sat a red Ferrari. Through the windshield, he locked eyes with his wife.
Violet scooped Gwyneth into her arms, pressing herself close to McNeil.
Whatever resolve Victoria had to get out of the car vanished as she watched the three of them, so natural together.
She felt a bitter pang of regret.
She realized, maybe she was the one intruding on their happiness.
McNeil’s eyes widened in alarm, as if he wanted to go to her. But Violet and Gwyneth clung to his hands, refusing to let him go.