“What? No!” Lewis said immediately. “We didn’t fight. Everything was fine.”
“Then why isn’t she here?” Madeline demanded. “On my birthday. After everything I’ve done for her?”
Before Lewis could answer, footsteps echoed behind them.
The butler approached, holding an ornate gift box.
“A delivery for you, Madam,” he said. “From Ms. Nadine.”
Madeline’s expression softened—for half a second. “At least she remembered.”
She accepted the box, her fingers deft as she opened it in front of everyone.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Inside were documents, photos, printed messages, medical records, bank transfers, and a neatly typed letter resting on top.
Madeline’s eyes scanned the contents once, then twice, each line carving deeper into her expression. The color drained from her face, shock giving way to something far more dangerous—understanding.
Her hands began to shake, not with weakness, but with fury barely contained. Slowly, deliberately, she looked up, her gaze moving from the twins to Lewis, then to Maxon, and finally to Victoria, her eyes sharp, wounded, and burning with betrayal that cut through the ballroom like a blade.
“You…” she whispered.
Then—
SLAP.