I am the heiress to the Prescott family, one of New York's most powerful dynasties. At my birthday party, held at our Hamptons estate, the housekeeper's daughter, Brielle Sutton, had the audacity to wear the vintage Chanel haute couture gown my grandmother had bequeathed to me. I was about to have security remove her.

Just then, strange, real-time comments began to flicker into existence before my eyes.

"This vicious villainess is just jealous that the female lead looks better in the gown than she does!"

"Don't worry, the male leads are about to make their entrance!"

"Just wait. Once her family goes bankrupt, we'll see how high and mighty she acts then!"

The next moment, my naive younger brother and my fiancé rushed forward, shielding Brielle from me.

I sneered and ordered security, "'Escort' all three of them out. Follow protocol: search them. Make sure they don't take so much as a pin from the Prescott estate."

————————

1

The housekeeper's daughter, Brielle Sutton, had the audacity to wear the vintage haute couture gown my grandmother left me—a gown she had stolen—to my own birthday party. Just as I was about to make her regret her insolence, a semi-transparent, holographic screen flickered to life before me, a frantic stream of comments scrolling across it.

"This villainess is just jealous that the female lead looks better in the gown than she does!"

"She looks down on people just because she's rich! We'll see how arrogant she is after the male leads bankrupt her family and arrange a little “skiing accident” to break her legs!"

Moments later, my hopelessly naive brother, Preston, and my fiancé, Erik, rushed to Brielle's defense. Shielding her, they scolded me, "Victoria, it's just a dress! You're just trying to humiliate her! How can you be so cruel?"

I let out a cold laugh and ordered the head of security behind me, "'Escort' all three of them out. Search them. They are to leave with nothing but the clothes on their backs."

If they wanted to call me a bully, I'd show them what real bullying looked like.

...

"It's just a dress, Victoria! What's the big deal if Brielle wears it for a bit? Do you have to be so cruel? Don't think you can get my attention by bullying her. I'm telling you, even if you wore this gown, you couldn't hold a candle to her!"

Erik Vaughn's shrill, grating voice gave me a headache.

I frowned, looking at the man and woman standing before me—Erik Vaughn and Brielle Sutton. One was my fiancé by arranged marriage; the other was the daughter of our housekeeper, Diane Sutton—a parasite who'd only scraped through high school thanks to my family's generosity.

They were draped over each other, casting me as the wicked witch trying to tear apart two star-crossed lovers.

The "just a dress" Erik spoke of was an heirloom from my grandmother, a one-of-a-kind Chanel custom piece from the 1950s. It was a piece of the Prescott legacy and had once been appraised at a staggering price at a Christie's auction.

Without a doubt, Brielle knew how much that gown meant to me. More than once, she had gazed at me with those wide, innocent eyes and pleaded, "Aren't we friends, Victoria? You have so many beautiful dresses, why can't you just lend me this one? Just once."

After I had refused her countless times, she offered to organize my walk-in closet. However, she slipped into the gown when she thought no one was looking and even appeared at my birthday party on Erik's arm.

Because their outfits complemented each other, to any unsuspecting guest, they looked like the true hosts of the evening.

When I discovered what had happened, I immediately had the security team block the exits. But Erik shielded Brielle behind him and started accusing me of overreacting.

I sneered, and just as I was about to retort, the strange scrolling comments before my eyes began to multiply.

"Sorry I'm late! Is that the villainess? Victoria? She really does look like a bitch, tacky and tasteless!"

"What gives her the right to say our lovely Brielle doesn't deserve to wear that gown? She's the female lead! Who's more qualified than her? It's just a stupid dress. Only nouveau-riche trash like Victoria would care. She's just jealous Brielle looks better in it!"

"Don't worry. Erik is here, and Brielle's second admirer is arriving soon! They'll definitely teach that vicious Victoria a lesson!"

"Just you wait. She won't be arrogant for long. Soon, this villainess will go bankrupt, break her leg while skiing, and be framed and thrown in jail. In the end, she'll end up killing herself in prison."

"She thinks she can do whatever she wants just because she has money! I hate rich people like her!"

As I read these absurd words, Erik mistook my silence for guilt. He lifted his chin and arrogantly announced, "I've told you countless times, Victoria. Even if you trap me in this engagement, you will never have my heart!"

Then, he turned to Brielle, who was cowering behind him like a frightened rabbit, and his gaze instantly softened.

"Give the gown to her, and I'll forgive your rudeness," he declared, as if bestowing a great favor.

I couldn't help but let out a snort of laughter. I was finally starting to understand the situation. Were these scrolling comments some kind of spoiler from a parallel universe?

Whatever it was, if that was my "destiny," then the scriptwriter had clearly underestimated Victoria Prescott.

Even if I were trampled underfoot and thrown into the depths of hell, I would claw my way back out and drag down every single person who pushed me in. Suicide? That word didn't exist in the Prescott family's dictionary.

I beckoned our head butler, Arthur Finch, and said, "To take without asking is to steal. And this little thief has some nerve, daring to steal from the Prescott family."

"Go check the surveillance footage. Make sure you have the evidence before my birthday party officially begins. My guests deserve to know the truth."

Arthur left with the security team, while the floating comments flew faster than ever.

"What the hell? How dare she call our lovely Brielle a thief? She's just never seen such a beautiful gown before! What's the big deal if she tries it on?"

"Exactly! Isn't Victoria Prescott the daughter of New York's richest man? Making a fuss over a dress? She's so petty!"

"Ha! She thinks being a Prescott means she can do whatever she wants. Just wait. The second Brielle's number-one simp, Preston Prescott, shows up, she'll be on her knees begging!"

"Only a son inherits the family business! This vicious villainess won't get her way. She should just hurry up and die!"

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.

I frowned, but before I could speak, an authoritative voice boomed from the entrance, filled with undeniable anger.

"Apologize for what?" my father's voice boomed. "A housekeeper's daughter committed theft in my home. She is the one who should be apologizing—along with all of you who can't tell right from wrong!"

My parents had just returned from a vacation abroad. They had intended to surprise me at my birthday party but instead walked in on this farce.

No matter how arrogant Dorian was, he had to show some restraint in front of my father, the current chairman of the Prescott Group.

He dropped his playful smile and greeted my parents, "Mr. Prescott, Mrs. Prescott."

My mother slid off her sunglasses, her sharp gaze raking across the room before landing on Dorian. "Mr. Hawthorne, while your family may be influential in certain circles, we do not welcome those who threaten my daughter in our home."

She turned to the security team, which was already on standby, her voice like ice. "Throw these three irrelevant people out, along with that traitor, Preston."

Preston looked at our parents in disbelief. "Dad! Mom! You're going to kick me out for this vicious woman?"

Father didn't even bother to look at him. "If you lack basic loyalty and judgment, you don't deserve the name Prescott. Arthur, remove them."

In front of everyone, the four of them were forcibly "escorted" out of the estate gates.

The drama didn't end the next day. Erik quickly went live on Instagram to publicly announce that he was breaking off our engagement.

When the news spread online, he used his company's official social media account to host a live stream titled "Exposing the Truth."

Within minutes, over a million people had flooded into Erik's live stream, where he promised to answer all of their questions.

Once again, I saw the torrent of scrolling comments. They always appeared whenever a scene of my humiliation was about to unfold.

"The reckoning I've been waiting for is finally here! Quick, expose the evil Victoria's wicked deeds and let her be despised by everyone!"

"Yes! Everyone should join our Anti-Victoria Association! As long as Victoria is alive, we'll keep cursing her to death!"

I clicked into Erik's live stream, his voice coming through my tablet's speakers. He explained in a weary tone, "I apologize to everyone for hiding my engagement. Victoria and I were never in love."

"I always thought I could sacrifice myself for the sake of my family's interests. However, what Victoria has done has crossed my line."

I snorted. Sacrifice himself, huh?

Honestly, considering my family's power, agreeing to marry Erik was practically an act of charity on my part.

Erik quickly gave an exaggerated account of what happened yesterday. He painted Brielle as a pure, innocent Cinderella who simply wanted to try on a beautiful gown, only to be viciously humiliated by me.

With righteous fury burning in his eyes, Erik declared, "Brielle is a delicate young woman. If Victoria dared to treat her like that when Preston and I were present, I can't imagine what kind of suffering Brielle has endured behind our backs!"

"This incident has forced my hand. I am officially calling off my engagement to Victoria. No matter how she tries to cling to me, I will not yield! Furthermore, Vaughn Industries will be severing all ties with the Prescott Group!"

Thanks to his bold and righteous pronouncements, the comment section was filled with praise. People called him a principled and outstanding young man.

To add credibility, Erik even played a maliciously edited surveillance video. The clip only showed the scene of me ordering security to throw the three of them out.

There was even a heavily doctored audio clip where my voice could be heard shrieking, "A housekeeper's daughter thinks she's worthy of wearing my gown?"

With this seemingly irrefutable proof, online public opinion instantly turned against me. Countless angry netizens flooded the Prescott Group's official account, venting their rage by leaving vicious comments.

"What's wrong with being a housekeeper's daughter? She's much better than a disrespectful bitch like you!"

"How can someone like this be in charge of a company? Boycott the Prescott Group! As long as Victoria is in her position, I won't buy their stock!"

"I demand that the Prescott Group fire Victoria!"

Erik then stared into the camera, as if challenging me through the screen.

"Victoria, I don't know if you'll see this live stream. If you do, then I feel it's necessary to tell you that you still owe Brielle an apology! The entire internet is waiting!"

Instantly, the comments in his live stream and the ones floating before my eyes all echoed the same demand.

"Apologize, Victoria!"