When Brielle was six, Diane brought her to our estate. She knelt before my mother, her voice trembling as she pleaded, "I'll work for free, Mrs. Prescott. All I ask is that you let Brielle attend the Spence School with Miss Victoria. You're a mother—you must understand."
"The tuition at Spence is astronomical. A housekeeper like me could never afford it, but I know it's just a drop in the bucket for you."
Diane made Brielle kneel with her until the child's knees were bruised.
My mother, ever the soft touch, couldn't stand to see a child suffer. Moved by Diane's tearful performance, she agreed.
From then on, Brielle lived in my home. Pitying her circumstances, I generously gave her my allowance, new-season designer bags, and brand-name clothes I had barely worn.
As a result, everyone else assumed she was a distant relative of the Prescott family. This illusion went to her head, and over time, she seemed to forget her place.
Brielle began to think she was truly my equal, competing with me in every way. She even started cozying up to my fiancé, Erik.
In the past, I couldn't be bothered to care. After all, my engagement to Erik was purely a business arrangement. It didn't matter to me who my fiancé was. I also didn't care who Brielle flirted with.
But now, discovering that Brielle was supposedly the "female lead" and that her pack of devoted admirers would be the architects of my ruin, the game had changed entirely.
Soon, Arthur returned with a USB drive. The surveillance footage played on the large screen, causing an uproar among the guests.
The footage clearly showed Brielle slipping into the master bedroom's walk-in closet during the servants' shift change. She used a pair of scissors to crudely slice open the gown's dust bag and security tag. She took off her shabby fast-fashion dress, changed into my gown, and gave a greedy, triumphant smile in the mirror. Then, with her head held high like a proud peacock, she strutted back to the party.
The truth was undeniable. I pointed at the screen. "See? Brielle stole my gown. If she dares to steal from the Prescott family, she'd dare to steal from any of you. Who here would hire an employee like that?"
I looked at Arthur. "Call the police."
Instantly, a loud voice shouted, "You dare!"
Just as my useless brother, Preston Prescott, strode in, the comments before my eyes exploded. Planting himself in front of Brielle, he glared at me. "Brielle has my full support. I'd like to see anyone try to call the police."
More and more comments flooded in.
"Finally, the loyal second male lead, Preston, has arrived just in time! That vicious woman almost got away with bullying our lovely Brielle!"
"Ha! Let's see how arrogant Victoria can be now! Preston is the only son in the family. No matter how arrogant she is, she's just a daughter with no value to the family!"
"Everything will be fine. Once Preston takes over the family business, that vicious villainess will be kicked out onto the street!"
Preston? Take over the family business? The man got a headache from looking at a financial statement.
I narrowed my eyes. "Preston, is that any way to speak to me? What happened to the manners they supposedly teach you at Wharton? Oh, that's right. You're only there because Dad donated a library to buy your way in."
Preston's face flushed. "I'll never have a sister as vicious as you!" he shot back. "You think you're better than everyone just because you're smart, always looking down on Brielle!"
I was done with Preston and Erik painting me as the bully. It was time to show them what real humiliation was.
My gaze hardened. I pointed at them. "Throw all three of them out. Now." If they were going to look down on me, they had no right to stand on the very lawn my money maintains. They couldn't have it both ways.
Brielle crossed her arms, her expression a mix of anger and defiance. She glared at me, her eyes red and brimming with tears, and shrieked, "Why do you have to be so cruel to me, Victoria? Is it because Erik doesn't like you? Is it because Preston doesn't think you're worthy of being his sister?"
"But that's your own fault! You've always used your money and status to bully me! You made me eat the scraps from your plate! You told me I wasn't even worthy of carrying your shoes!"
She was lying.
Tears streamed down her cheeks, splashing onto the polished floor as she continued, "Yes, my family isn't as well-off as yours. I'm not a rich heiress, but I've never been ashamed of my humble origins! I dare say I live with more dignity and integrity than you hypocritical rich people!"
"So what if you're rich? You still can't find true love! You're just an empty shell!"
I wanted to applaud her performance. If she really didn't care about her family's status, why did she use the Hermès bags I gave her to curate a socialite persona on Instagram?
Unfortunately, the people posting the comments were like a brainwashed mob, blindly agreeing with everything Brielle said.
"Brielle's right! I know a rich girl who's always looking down on people too!"
"So what if Victoria is rich? It's so satisfying to know that even if she begged for Erik's love, he wouldn't love her and would be completely devoted to Brielle instead."
"I feel so bad for Brielle right now, but it's all going to be okay. Soon it will be time for the third male lead to show up and teach that horrible villainess a lesson!"
"Oh? The third male lead is coming? Finally, it's my favorite, Mr. Hawthorne's turn. It's a shame Brielle didn't end up with him. I loved the part where he got jealous and locked her in his basement!"
Thanks to these comments, I now knew that Brielle had a third admirer—a possessive psychopath.
I looked toward the entrance and saw a tall man who radiated a dangerous charisma walk into the hall. He wore a perfectly tailored dark suit. His hair was slicked back, revealing a high forehead.
Dorian Hawthorne.
His lips twisted into a playful smirk. "My little pet seems to have offended you, Miss Prescott," he purred. "She's a fragile thing. If she were to get hurt at your party, I'm afraid I'd have to hold you personally responsible."
My face darkened. I hadn't expected Dorian Hawthorne to be Brielle's third admirer.
The Hawthorne family was known for its ruthlessness, and Dorian was the most ruthless of them all. At a young age, he had monopolized the black market for art and luxury goods on the East Coast.
In our social circle, everyone knew not to cross him. He was an absolute madman.
How on earth did Brielle get tangled up with someone like him?
Meanwhile, the comments erupted once more.
"Mr. Hawthorne is so cool! This is the domineering CEO I've been waiting for!"
"I'm so excited I could scream! Quick! Look at Victoria's face. I bet she realizes now that she can't afford to mess with Brielle. Ha! Mr. Hawthorne could crush her like a bug!"
"Calm down, friend. Mr. Hawthorne will send someone to break Victoria's legs for Brielle. That bitch's time is coming!"
Dorian was still smiling as he walked over to Brielle, pulled her into his arms, and said, "It's time to apologize to Brielle, Miss Prescott. Otherwise, you won't like the consequences."
The threat in his tone was unmistakable.
