Vianne lay motionless.
Silvia frowned slightly as she glanced at her—Vianne's face was drained of all color, and her arm was so pale it was almost alarming.
She really did it, Silvia thought in disbelief. She’d never expected Vianne to go this far.
When the housekeeper first told her what happened, Silvia had assumed Vianne was faking it. Since when did she become so ruthless?
Still, Silvia could more or less guess what Vianne was after. The moment she saw the reporters outside, it all clicked—Vianne wanted to use public opinion, to drag the Ashford family’s name through the mud.
“Get her to the hospital. Don’t let her die here. What a mess,” Silvia said, her tone edged with sarcasm.
To have someone collapse unconscious on your front lawn at dawn—what a way to start the day.
Silvia wasted no time; the family only heard about the commotion once everyone was up and out of bed.
Lola looked at Silvia, surprised. “So, how is she now?”
“She’s alive,” Silvia replied coolly, her eyes icy.
After the housekeeper and staff rushed Vianne to the hospital, a doctor checked her over and confirmed she’d pull through before they returned home.
She brought this on herself, Silvia thought. Now they all had to deal with the fallout.
“What was she trying to do? Get those reporters to run a story?” Garth Ashford asked, his voice heavy, a chill in his expression.
“Probably,” Silvia answered. She gave him a little smile, trying to lighten the tense atmosphere, and teased, “Dad, you’re not afraid of her, are you?”

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