The Perfect Wife's Perfect Revenge

Chapter 6

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-!"

lowered her gaze, a sly smile playing at

a stop at Victoria's feet. Yasmine stepped in front of the housekeeper, blocking her path.

others with her. A line of men in dark suits- her security detail-stood behind

in fear, clearly bewildered

and disheveled, but managed to

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,

help but wonder how Violet had managed to wedge herself into that custom-made

already

the familiar brown sofa, sat down gracefully, and lifted

it off,"

Victoria seemed reasonable, and her own courage grew. But with

a gift from McNeil," Violet protested, her brow furrowing. The thought of