Chapter 7

Victoria's stomach twisted into knots as she realized the depth of Alexander's disdain for her.

It felt like a thousand shards of glass had lodged themselves into her chest—sharp, humiliating, and impossible to ignore.

But more than anything, she was terrified of him.

She opened her mouth to speak again in that sickly-sweet tone she always used, but the line went dead before she could utter another word.

Her heart plummeted.

"What's wrong, Victoria?" Olivia asked immediately, her voice laced with concern.

"Mom… Master Alexander… He refused to come discuss our engagement. What if—what if he finds out?"

Tears welled in her eyes as panic set in. "What if he realizes I'm not Alice? Mom, you know what he's capable of! I can't—I can't face him if he knows!"

Olivia and Benjamin exchanged horrified glances.

The entire Sullivan household spent the rest of the afternoon in a state of dread, jumping at every sound.

Then, a maid hesitantly entered the parlor. "Sir, Madam… Alice Carter is here. She says she's come to collect her mother's photographs."

"Tell her to get lost!" Victoria snapped, her fear morphing into rage.

In her panic, she had completely forgotten that she had summoned Alice here yesterday—just to flaunt her supposed engagement to Alexander in front of her.

But now, with Alexander's brutal rejection, all she felt was terror.

The maid hesitated.

"Wait—I'll deal with her myself!" Victoria stormed out, her face still streaked with tears, her hair a tangled mess. She hadn’t even glanced in a mirror before charging outside.

"You filthy whore!" Victoria shrieked the moment she saw Alice. "How dare you show your face here again? You’ll only bring shame to this house! Get out!"

Alice smirked. "Victoria, you were the one who invited me. Or did you forget?"

"Go to hell! Just—just disappear!" Victoria screamed, her voice cracking.

Alice couldn’t help but laugh.

Then she took a closer look at Victoria—her puffy eyes, her disheveled appearance.

A slow, knowing smile curved Alice’s lips. "Oh, Victoria… Did some man knock you up and then abandon you? Is that why you’re throwing a tantrum?"

Victoria lunged at her, hands clawing. "I’ll kill you—"

Alice didn’t flinch. "Try it. I’d love to see you rot in prison for assault."

Victoria froze, trembling with fury. "You—you—!"

Alice turned on her heel and walked away without another word.

She didn’t have time for this.

She was starving.

Ever since the pregnancy, her appetite had become unpredictable. She craved something nourishing, but her wallet was empty.

With no other options, she returned to her tiny rented space and bought a cheap mushroom sandwich from a street vendor.

Just as she took her first bite, a shadow fell over her.

Nathaniel Brooks—Alexander’s right-hand man—stood before her.

Alice barely blinked. She kept eating, stepping past him without acknowledgment.

Her arrangement with Alexander was purely transactional. Outside of their act in front of Margaret, they were strangers.

"Miss Carter," Nathaniel called after her, clearly surprised by her indifference.

Alice turned. "Yes?"

"Get in the car."

She frowned.

"Madam will be calling tonight," he explained. "If she finds out you and Master Alexander aren’t living together—"

"Right." Alice understood. The charade had to be maintained. She slid into the car without protest.

They didn’t head to Knight Manor. Instead, they arrived at a luxurious penthouse in the heart of the city.

Nathaniel led her inside, then handed her over to a middle-aged housekeeper before leaving.

"You must be the young mistress," the woman said warmly.

Alice shifted uncomfortably. "And you are?"

"Eleanor Quinton. I’ve served Madam for over a decade. She called earlier, insisting I take excellent care of her new daughter-in-law. Come, let me show you around."

The penthouse was breathtaking—spacious, modern, and dripping with opulence.

Alice hesitated. "This place is…?"

"Master Alexander’s private residence," Eleanor explained.

Relief washed over Alice. If Nathaniel had brought her here, Alexander likely wouldn’t show up. Perfect.

She could finally move out of that dingy rental. Tomorrow, she’d retrieve her few belongings.

The moment she sat on the plush sofa, the landline rang.

Eleanor answered, smiling. "Yes, Madam, she’s here. Just arrived."

She handed the phone to Alice. "It’s for you."

Alice took it. "Mom? How are you?"

Margaret’s voice was gentle. "Alice, darling, are you settling in well?"

"Very well," Alice said honestly. "I’ve never lived anywhere so beautiful."

"And that stubborn son of mine? Is he there with you?"

Alice knew Alexander wouldn’t step foot here, but she played along. "He’ll be back soon. We’re having dinner together."

"Wonderful! I won’t keep you, then. Enjoy your evening."

"Goodnight, Mom."

That night, Eleanor served her an extravagant meal, then drew her a bath—complete with fragrant oils and rose petals.

"Young Mistress, these will leave your skin glowing," Eleanor said kindly. "Your robe is outside. I’ll prepare the bedroom for you."

Alice was overwhelmed by the luxury.

The bathroom alone was a dream—spacious, gleaming, with a deep soaking tub.

She hadn’t had a proper bath since before prison.

She wasn’t about to waste this moment.

By the time she finished, her muscles were blissfully relaxed, her eyelids heavy.

Still drowsy, she stepped out, dripping wet, and reached for the robe—only to collide with a solid, muscular chest.

A scream tore from her throat.