Jasmine's POV
I stared at the half-hearted gift bags in her hands and didn't take them. Just then, my daughter, Ella, came running over in a white princess dress, her face full of anticipation.
"Mommy, we're going to the amusement park tomorrow. Do I look pretty in this?"
I had just opened my mouth to answer when Vicky suddenly let out a dramatic gasp, one hand flying to her lips.
"Oh my god! Zoey has a dress just like that! But Quentin said her dress is a one-of-a-kind global exclusive. The cuffs on hers are real gold. Your daughter's dress looks like plastic… were you guys scammed? Is that a knockoff?"
The fragile calm I'd fought so hard to maintain shattered instantly.
That dress was a birthday gift from last year, chosen by Quentin for our daughter.
It turned out that the real one had gone to Zoey, and we got the fake.
I couldn't take it anymore, so I immediately ordered someone to send Vicky away. Then I told the staff to burn every piece of furniture in the house.
...
A week passed, and Quentin finally returned. He didn't come alone and brought Vicky and Zoey.
He even bought them a villa right next door.
In the morning, after I had dropped off my daughter at school, I ran into Vicky directing workers as they moved furniture into her new home.
She looked at me with that same smirking, half-sincere expression.
"Quentin said my old place was too dangerous," Vicky said. He moved us here so he could take better care of me and Zoey."
Her tone was deliberately light. Her smile was anything but that.
"I heard you burned all your furniture that day. So I recreated your house exactly, every detail, one-to-one. That way, Quentin and I can feel like we're back home again."
I gave a slight tug to the corner of my lips, then asked calmly, "Didn't you ask for the divorce in the first place? Why come back now, trying to win him back?"
Vicky just chuckled, her eyes filled with open provocation. "I just want to make sure that anything I throw away… no one else gets to touch either."
At that moment, the sound of an engine rumbled behind us.
Suddenly, Vicky grabbed my wrist, then shoved herself hard, tumbling backward down the steps in a dramatic heap.
Almost simultaneously, I heard Quentin's furious voice behind me. "Jasmine! What the hell are you doing?!"
He ran over and crouched beside Vicky, his hands trembling as he checked her for injuries.
Zoey stood to the side, her eyes red as she pointed at me. "Daddy, Auntie Jasmine said I'm a wild child with no dad. She told Mommy and me to get out."
Quentin's face darkened on the spot. His eyes turned cold, filled with rage as they swung toward me. Just as he opened his mouth to scold me, like he always did, I kicked Vicky back down just as she tried to get up.
Then I turned to him and slapped him across the face hard.
"That's what I did. If you can't tell what's real anymore, then donate your damn eyes!"
Without waiting to see his reaction, I turned and walked away.
...
Three days before the passports were due to arrive, I stopped by the swim center to speak with the coach and cancel my daughter's lessons.
By sheer misfortune, I ran into Vicky, Zoey, and Quentin.
So much for his early morning 'urgent business.' He was there in person, crouched poolside, gently guiding Zoey into the water, patiently helping her overcome her fear of swimming.
When our daughter started, she was also terrified of the water. I begged him to go in with her once, but he always said he was too busy.
Turns out, it wasn't about being busy.
He just didn't want to.
As soon as she saw us, Vicky beamed and walked over. And the first words out of her mouth were aimed squarely at my daughter.
"Ella, I heard you've always been sickly. So you're here to swim and build up strength? But looking at you now… doesn't seem to be working. Still a little troublemaker, always making it hard for your dad to rest easy."
She reached down and patted Zoey's head.
"Not like our Zoey. She's always been so considerate, never gets sick for no reason."
Zoey wrinkled her nose in disgust and stuck her tongue out at my daughter.
