Chapter 592
Chapter 592:
Victoria let out a cold, aristocratic huff. “Harper Vance,” she said, her eyes raking over Harper’s outfit with undisguised judgment. “Birds of a feather. Just another parasite surviving on a man’s credit limit p>
Belle stepped forward and placed a gentle, placating hand on Victoria’s arm—a performance of sweet concern almost impressive in its execution. “Mother, please do not upset yourself. Effie is just a child. She does not know any better p>
“She needs to be disciplined,” Victoria pressed, her voice carrying across the room. “If she is not taught manners now, she will grow up to be exactly like her mother—a manipulative gold-digger who uses her body to trap wealthy men p>
The heavy velvet curtain of the fitting room was suddenly ripped open. The brass rings shrieked against the metal rod.
Isolde stepped out.
The entire room fell silent.
𝘚𝘩a𝗋е у𝗼𝘂𝗋 𝖿𝖺v𝗼𝘳𝗂𝘵e𝘴 f𝘳𝗼𝗆
She was wearing the emerald green gown. The silk clung to her curves like liquid glass, revealing the figure she had concealed under baggy sweaters for years. Her dark hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. She looked lethal—a goddess of war dressed in the color of venom.
Her eyes locked onto Victoria. They were as cold and sharp as shattered ice.
“Who exactly are you calling a gold-digger, Victoria?” she asked. Her voice was low, but it commanded the entire room.
Victoria blinked, momentarily stunned by the sheer, overwhelming presence of the woman before her. She had never seen Isolde look so powerful. But she recovered quickly, her pride armoring her shock in a flush of anger.
“I am talking about you!” Victoria barked, her face reddening. “You are standing here in Bergdorf Goodman, trying on couture gowns on my son’s alimony money. You are a leech p>
Isolde walked slowly across the room, her heels clicking in a steady, unhurried rhythm against the hardwood floor. She stopped directly in front of Victoria, using her height to look down at the older woman.
“Let me clarify two things for your aging memory,” Isolde said, her tone saturated with contempt. “First, I did not take a single penny of Grayson’s money in the divorce. Second, I am paying for this myself p>
Belle let out a mocking laugh from behind Victoria’s shoulder. “Stop lying, Isolde. Grayson canceled all your supplementary credit cards weeks ago. You are broke p>
Isolde did not look at Belle. She kept her eyes fixed on Victoria.
She reached into her clutch and produced a solid, matte black titanium card—the American Express Centurion Card. It was a private account she had maintained for years, funded by patents filed under a pseudonym during her time as Sophia: a secret reserve of resources she had never needed to touch until now.
She held the card out to the personal shopper. “Ring it up,” she said smoothly. “The emerald gown. The dress Miss Vance is looking at. And the entire spring collection of children’s wear in Effie’s size. I will take it all p>
The personal shopper’s eyes widened. She accepted the heavy metal card with both hands, holding it like a holy relic. “Right away, Ms. Carson p>