The Billionaire's Bought Bride and Instant Mom Chapter 36

Aveline

My arms ached from carrying the mountain of shopping bags, but I couldn't bring myself to care. The weight was nothing compared to the joy I'd felt watching Grandmother come alive during our shopping expedition. For six hours, she'd transformed into someone I barely recognized—energetic, decisive, practically glowing with purpose as she guided me from boutique to boutique.

"This shade will bring out your eyes," she'd declared at one shop, holding up a silk scarf. "And these earrings—oh, they're perfect with that necklace I'm wearing!"

I'd caught glimpses of the woman she must have been in her youth—confident, stylish, someone who commanded attention when she walked into a room. Watching her haggle with a shoe salesman over the perfect heel height, seeing her eyes light up as she selected accessories with the precision of a master stylist, had been worth every overpriced purchase.

Now, climbing the front steps with bags full of shoes, jewelry, and accessories I'd probably never wear again, I felt lighter than I had in weeks. If spending money I could easily afford meant seeing Grandmother that happy, it was the best investment I'd ever made.

The house was quiet when I pushed through the front door, which meant the others were probably still out pursuing Vivian's endless quest for the perfect dress. I dropped the bags in the hallway with a relieved sigh and headed toward my room, already planning to organize everything before Grandmother wanted to see how it all looked together.

That's when I saw her.

Vivian stood in front of my full-length mirror, wearing the purple dress that Mitchell had delivered this morning. The sight stopped me cold in my doorway.

The dress, which had fit me perfectly, was straining across Vivian's broader frame in all the wrong ways. The bodice pulled tight across her chest, creating unflattering bulges where the delicate beadwork had never been intended to stretch. The waist sat too high, making her torso look shortened and dumpy. Worst of all, she couldn't even zip it properly—the back gaped open, revealing her bra and the desperate way she was trying to hold the fabric together.

She looked ridiculous. But that wasn't what made my blood boil.

It was the satisfied smirk on her face as she posed in my mirror, the casual way she was handling fabric that probably cost more than most people's cars, the sheer entitlement of walking into my room and taking whatever she wanted.

Just like always.

"Take it off," I said, my voice deadly quiet. "Now."

Vivian turned toward me with that familiar, infuriating smile. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. It's just a dress. Besides, in this house, if I want something, I take it. That's how it's always worked."

"What's happening up there?" Grandmother's voice drifted up from downstairs, concerned by the tension she could probably hear in my voice.

"Nothing, Grandmother," I called back, forcing false cheerfulness into my tone. "Just organizing my purchases."

I stepped into my room and quietly locked the door behind me. The click of the deadbolt made Vivian's eyes widen slightly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but there was uncertainty creeping into her voice now.

"I'm going to say this one more time," I said, advancing toward her with measured steps. "Take off my dress."

Vivian lifted her chin defiantly, though I could see her hands shaking slightly as she tried to keep the dress closed. "Absolutely not. I'm the real daughter of this family. I'm the one who deserves nice things. Where did you even get this? Do you really think you belong at whatever fancy event this is for?"

The slap echoed through the room like a gunshot.

Vivian staggered backward, her hand flying to her reddening cheek, shock replacing smugness in her eyes. But her surprise only lasted a moment before fury took over.

"You bitch!" she shrieked, lunging toward me with her hands outstretched.

I was ready for her. I planted my feet and grabbed her wrists, using her own momentum to spin her around and push her backward onto my bed. She landed hard, the dress gaping even more as she struggled to maintain her balance.

"Let me go!" she screamed, kicking wildly. "Help! Someone help me!"

"No one's coming," I said calmly, reaching for the partially open zipper. "Monica and Richard aren't home, and I'm not about to let you destroy something that doesn't belong to you."

"Don't you dare touch me!" Vivian writhed on the bed, trying to protect the dress even as I began working the fabric free. "This is assault! You can't just—"

"Can't what?" I grabbed the skirt with both hands and pulled firmly. "Can't take back what's mine? Can't stop you from stealing from me like you've been doing your entire life?"

"You owe me!" Vivian's voice cracked with rage and desperation as she tried to hold onto the bodice. "You stole eighteen years of my life! Do you know what it was like growing up in that village while you lived here like a princess? Do you know how the city kids laughed at me when I finally came home?"

I yanked harder on the dress, forcing it down over her hips despite her struggles. "You're right. I do owe you something. I owe you a husband. That husband should have been yours, shouldn't it? You're their real daughter. You should have been the one they sold off to pay for Grandmother's surgery."

"Stop!" Vivian's struggling became more frantic as I worked the dress lower. "You're going to ruin it! Do you have any idea how expensive—"

"I don't care about the dress," I said, my voice cold as ice as I pulled the fabric completely free of her legs. "I don't care about it at all. What I care about is that I will never again let you take what's mine and treat me like garbage while you do it."

Vivian lay there in her underwear, tears of humiliation streaming down her face. The purple dress lay crumpled between us, somehow still beautiful despite the violence of its removal.