Chapter 6

After dinner, the family of four chatted merrily on the couch in the living room.

Victoria had no desire to participate in their farce of domestic bliss and retreated to the garden. The evening breeze carried the coolness of early summer, but it did nothing to ease the suffocating weight in her chest.

Not long after, Cassandra appeared in the garden as well, wearing a victor's smile, gentle yet piercing.

"Enjoying the evening breeze alone, Vicky?" Her voice was soft, but her tone held unmistakable provocation.

"To be honest, I know why you're upset. I've heard from others about what happened between you and Caden over the past three years."

Victoria, who had her back to Cassandra, stiffened almost imperceptibly, but she did not turn around.

"Truth be told, I was pretty worried when I first learned about it," Cassandra said, stepping beside her and examining Victoria's striking yet pale profile. "After all, you're such a beauty, Vicky. There'd hardly be any man who wouldn't fall for you.

"What a pity, then, to be blessed with such a pretty face for nothing. Your mother couldn't win against mine, and you can't win against me either. Those three years were nothing more than a little charity I allowed you. Now that I've returned, it's time for you, the dupe, to bow out."

Victoria turned slowly. Under the moonlight, her eyes gleamed with startling brightness—not with the rage or grief Cassandra had expected, but with pure, icy mockery.

"Charity?" Victoria's lips curved into a smile.

She enunciated each word clearly, "Cassandra, have you been abroad for so long that you've forgotten exactly who you are?

"You're just a bastard daughter who only entered this house because her mother played the mistress. A pathetic woman who has to scheme and manipulate just to hold onto a man, and you dare stand here talking about charity?

"Your mother picked up the scraps my mother discarded, and you picked up the man I discarded. You and your mother are truly cut from the same cloth—always scavenging what others leave behind."

"You!" The smile froze on Cassandra's face. Color drained from her face, then flooded back in ugly patches. She hadn't expected Victoria, already trampled into the mud, to still have such a sharp tongue.

"What about me?" Victoria took a step closer, her presence overwhelming.

"You think you've won? You've merely picked up a man I was done playing with and discarded, and you're parading him around like a treasure. Cassandra, this is truly the height of your capabilities."

Cassandra trembled with rage under the barrage of retorts, her carefully maintained mask of gentleness shattering completely.

Victoria had no interest in continuing the exchange, so she turned to leave.

But in the exact moment she turned her back, a piercing, agonized scream tore from Cassandra behind her. Cassandra had fallen, her forehead striking the edge of a stone garden bench. Blood instantly bloomed, vivid and stark.

"Cassie!"

Almost simultaneously, Caden, Hugh, and Marjorie rushed out from the living room.

Cassandra lay on the ground, clutching her bleeding forehead, her eyes welling with tears. "Dad, Mom, Caden… This isn't Vicky's fault. I slipped."

Marjorie immediately threw herself over Cassandra, wailing hysterically.

"Cassie! Oh, my precious baby! How could you be so silly? Why are you still defending her after what she's done to you?"

Hugh's expression was thunderous. He jabbed a finger at Victoria, voice shaking with rage. "Victoria Calloway! You vicious girl! What have you done to Cassie now?"

Victoria stood motionless, watching the meticulously staged scene of entrapment unfold with cold detachment. Her gaze swept past the enraged Hugh, the hypocritical Marjorie, and finally settled on Caden.

He was already crouched beside Cassandra, carefully examining the wound. When he lifted his head, those deep, unreadable eyes fixed on Victoria, and for the first time, the usual calm was gone. What remained was a piercing, bone-chilling scrutiny.

In that moment, her heart chilled to the marrow. He… He didn't believe her either. Of course. Cassandra was the one he cherished. Why would he ever take Victoria's word over hers?

A faint, bitter smile tugged at Victoria's lips. Then, without warning, she stepped forward.

Under the stunned gazes of everyone present, she reached for a heavy ceramic flowerpot nearby. She brought it down without a moment's hesitation on the exact spot on Cassandra's forehead that was already bleeding.

The dull thump from the impact was followed by Cassandra's even more agonized scream and the collective sharp intake of breath from the others.

Victoria let go, dropping the shattered remains of the pot. Her voice came out eerily calm, yet her eyes glinted like poisoned blades.

"You'd better listen up. I didn't lay a finger on her earlier. But this time? This one's all me."

Everyone was stunned into silence, Caden included.

Victoria shook the remaining fragments from her hand and turned to walk away. But before she could take two steps, a bone-crushing force clamped around her wrist. Pain shot up her arm.

Caden held her in a vice-like grip, his expression dark and stormy. When he looked at Hugh, his voice came out ice cold.

"Mr. Calloway, I won't overlook such behavior from your daughter. I'm afraid I must insist you teach her a proper lesson."

Hugh, torn between his distress for Cassandra and his fear of Caden's influence, hurriedly agreed and scraped. "Don't you worry, Mr. Larkson! I will most certainly discipline this insolent, ignorant daughter of mine!"

He immediately barked at the bodyguards who had hurried over, "Grab her! Take her to the family memorial hall and lock her up in there!"

"How dare you!" Victoria struggled, glaring fiercely at Hugh.

But Hugh looked to Caden, his tone fawning. "Mr. Larkson, what do you think? I'll lock her in the memorial hall to reflect on her actions. Is that punishment sufficient?"

Caden scooped up the still-bleeding Cassandra in his arms. His gaze swept over Victoria with glacial indifference, and his thin lips parted to utter words of breathtaking cruelty.

"That's too lenient. I noticed the riding crop hanging in the study. It didn't seem to be merely for decoration."

With that, he strode away without a backward glance, holding Cassandra close.

Victoria stood as if struck by lightning, staring in disbelief at his retreating figure.

Had he… Had he just suggested that Hugh use a riding crop on her?