Chapter 593
Chapter 593:
Victoria stared at the black card. The color drained rapidly from her face. That card was invitation-only, reserved for individuals with tens of millions in liquid assets. “Where did you get that?” she stammered, her arrogant facade fracturing visibly. “Did you steal one of Grayson’s corporate accounts p>
Isolde smiled—a slow, terrifying, predatory smile.
“This is not one of the supplementary cards you so generously permitted me to use during my marriage, Victoria,” she said coldly. “Grayson’s corporate accounts have absolutely nothing to do with it. This is my personal line of credit, held entirely under my own name and my own independent assets p>
Isolde turned slightly, adjusting the silk drape of the gown in the mirror. “And Victoria,” she added, her voice dropping to a quiet, dangerous register, “if I ever hear you speak to my daughter that way again, I will personally ensure you learn the true definition of the word ‘feral.’ Do not test me p>
Victoria’s mouth opened and closed. She was trembling with rage, but not a single word came.
𝘉𝘦 p𝗮𝗋t 𝗼𝖿 𝗈𝘶𝗿 𝗰𝗈𝘮m𝘂nit𝗒 оո
Victoria Lancaster drew a deep, shuddering breath, her chest heaving beneath her Chanel jacket. She was not accustomed to being spoken to this way—least of all by the woman she had treated like a servant for five years.
She needed to reassert her dominance. Her eyes traveled to the emerald gown clinging to Isolde’s body.
“A piece of plastic proves nothing,” Victoria spat, her voice tight. “For all I know, you found a new sugar daddy to fund your little shopping spree p>
Harper let out a loud, incredulous laugh. “Victoria, your delusion is genuinely pathological. Isolde earned every cent of her money p>
Victoria ignored Harper entirely. She turned her sharp gaze on the terrified personal shopper still holding the black card. “I want that dress,” she commanded, pointing a trembling finger at Isolde.
The personal shopper swallowed hard, clutching the titanium card to her chest. “Ma’am, Ms. Carson has already committed to purchasing the garment p>
Victoria drew herself up to her full height. “I am the matriarch of the Lancaster family,” she declared, her voice filling the salon. “She is a discarded ex-wife. You know precisely which account carries more weight in this store. I am buying that dress. It will look far better on Belle regardless—her complexion is far superior p>
Belle arranged her features into an expression of modest hesitation, though her eyes gleamed with greedy anticipation. “Oh, Mother, you should not,” she murmured softly. “I would not want to take something Isolde clearly needs to feel important p>
“Nonsense,” Victoria snapped. “It belongs to the Lancaster family by right. Grayson supported her pathetic existence for five years. Everything she has is because of him.” She turned back to Isolde, her eyes filling with malicious triumph. “Take it off, Isolde. Consider it a small repayment for the years you spent leeching off my son p>
The VIP salon fell into a suffocated, horrified silence. The sheer audacity of the demand was staggering—a public mugging dressed in the costume of high society etiquette.
From the sofa, Effie began to cry quietly, burying her face in a velvet throw pillow. “Mommy,” she whispered. “Let us just go home p>