Chapter 5

A fire crackled in the hearth, its warmth doing little to chase away the chill that had settled over the room.

Victoria swirled the red wine in her glass, bringing it to her lips for the occasional sip, her gaze distant and unfocused.

Out in the hallway, Haley stealthily dialed Yasmine. "Yasmine, you need to come see Mrs. Langford. It's barely dawn and she's already drinking."

Two glasses in, the wine was cold on Victoria's tongue, but her heart felt even colder.

She had just gotten off the phone with the bridal shop.

The plan was simple: on their anniversary, the dress would be delivered in the morning. That evening, she'd wear it to the studio, where she and McNeil would have their portrait taken—a keepsake for another year together.

But then, a minor hitch: McNeil had bailed last minute, and she'd somehow forgotten all about the dress herself.

And now-

"Mrs. Langford, we've already delivered the gown. You didn't receive it?"

Victoria frowned. She certainly hadn't.

"Where exactly did you send it?"

Midhill Manor, Winding Peak Lane. Mr. Langford's

toppled, and a splash of

wound blooming

Peak Lane. Midhill

McNeil's secret love nest.

for six years. McNeil probably thought Victoria had no idea. But she'd always followed the advice of the old folks: "Before marriage, keep your eyes wide open. After marriage, turn

long as McNeil treated her and their child

it off: "A man straying

Langford, and nobody could take that from

But now-

her mother's keepsake to his sweetheart, turned her daughter against her, and now even the wedding dress for their anniversary had

time, she couldn't just turn a

was greeted by the sight of three empty wine bottles at Victoria's feet. The glass had rolled away, and

across the chaise lounge, eyes glazed but not entirely lost- mostly sober,

scent of alcohol as

picture of domestic grace- reserved, distant from the world, content

her as the trophy wife the tabloids made her out to

the last time Victoria had spiraled like

Yasmine

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