The legal maneuver broke something in Victoria. The fear that had paralyzed her since the wedding vanished, replaced by a white-hot fury that felt strangely familiar.
She pushed past Marcus. She marched across the lawn, ignoring the guards, and stormed up the steps of the Main House.
William was standing in the foyer, reviewing the injunction with Malcolm, when the front door banged open.
“You!” Victoria screamed, pointing a shaking finger at William.
William looked up, his heart hammering. It was the first time she had looked him in the eye since the church. “Victoria, please, listen–“
“Do not call me that!” she yelled, her voice echoing off the high ceilings. “I am not your property. You lock the gates? You threaten me with police?”
She stepped closer, her eyes blazing with the fire that had once fueled her “Revenge Dress” moment, even if she didn’t remember it.
“You are not a husband,” Victoria spat, the words slicing through William’s defenses. “You are a jailer!”.
William staggered back as if physically struck. The word–*Jailer*–twisted the knife. He had fought so hard to be her “White Knight,” and now, in his desperation to keep her, he had become the very thing she hated most. He watched her storm out, leaving him standing in the wreckage of his good intentions, while Malcolm watched from the shadows, a faint smile playing on his lips.