After failing miserably in front of both her caffeine-addicted sister and her emotionally unavailable mother, she dragged herself back to her room . One heel in hand, the other foot barefoot.
She collapsed onto her bed
"So that didn’t go as planned," she muttered, staring up at the ceiling.
All her courage were wasted.
Lets not even talk about self-respect.
Her desperate attempt to cancel the dinner? Literally crashed.
She groaned into her silk pillow. "I need a new plan. A better one. Sothing villainess-worthy. Sothing sneaky."
Then it hit her.
Wait a minute... wait a freaking minute.
"Why didn’t I think of this earlier?" she whispered, sitting up slowly,
"I’m supposed to invite Dante for dinner, right?" Her eyes glead. "What if... I don’t invite him and just pretend I did?"
She stood up with the grace as if she wasnt the one who had just fake-fainted.
"Afterwards I’ll act confused. Concerned. Maybe a little disappointed. Oh no, Lord Dante must’ve lost the letter! What a tragedy!" she cooed, holding her hands to her chest in mock grief.
Her eyes sparkled.
"No dinner. No murder. No apology. Just and my genius plan. I outplayed the plot again."
Feeling better, she threw her planner away and tied her hair in a ssy bun. She put on a thick, dark red face mask that made her look like a peeled tomato and changed into her midnight blue silk nightgown. It was a bit too tight and very shiny, sothing she’d definitely regret later..
"But I deserve this," she said, admiring herself in the mirror. "Survived the day. Avoided death. Won the ga. Ti for victory juice."
By victory juice, she ant that expensive chilled fruit drink the kitchen only served her when she didn’t cause drama.
She padded down the hallway, humming, feeling as free. The house was oddly quiet. Suspiciously peaceful. No maids running around, no shouting from her mother, and no sound of her sister threatening soone over weak coffee.
"Seems like everyone is out," she whispered. "Even better. All mine."
She floated down the marble steps in her fluffy slippers. The kitchen was dark, the hallway empty. She didnt noticed the table being decorated infact didnt even heard the hall door open. She popped into the fridge, grabbed her chilled drink, popped the cap, and turned around...
And froze.
Right there in the foyer, standing under the chandelier, was her worst nightmare...
Dante.
Alina.
Her parents.
And her sister.
All dressed in expensive suites
Dante stood there in a sharp black suit, his eyes cold but can see bit amusent in them. Beside him was Alina, looking sweet in a pearl gown. Her mother looked elegant and stiff, while her sister wore a gold dress, looking ready to definitely kill.
And then... there was her.
Standing in her silky, body hugging nightgown. With her hair in a towel bun.
Bright red face mask. Holding a fruit drink.
She blinked.
Dante stared.
Alina tilted her head in confusion.
Her mother’s mouth opened in horror.
Her sister’s face twisted into the smuggest, most evil grin
A long silence.
She looked down at herself.
Then back up.
And muttered, "Well. I think this is just my hallucination. I better start sleeping more these days." Just as Viella about to walk away....ca a loud voice,
"Is this your idea of greeting guests?" her mother snapped.
Alina laughed
Viella turned her in shock.....guess...i am fucked up?
"I--I thought the dinner was tomorrow?" she offered, voice cracking as she slowly crab-walked toward the staircase.
"You planned this dinner," her mother snapped.
She pointed at her fruit drink. "What are you even wearing?? whats all this on your face and SPECIALLY WHAT ARE YOU HOLDING?"
"Uh....victory juice haha"
Her sister snorted. "More like delusional juice."
Alina smiled awkwardly. "Um... maybe we ca too early?"
Dante said nothing.
Because he was staring straight into Viella’s soul.
"Lovely to see you, Dante," Viella said, slapping on the world’s fakest smile. "I would have dressed up, but I... I’m currently testing new... facial poisons."
Her mother gasped. "What?!"
"Skincare! I ant skincare!" she squeaked. "Totally harmless. Not poison. I an, unless you count mint extract."
"Go to your room," her father entered the hall and said with the calm tone of soone who already regretted having children.
"Gladly!" she chirped.
She crab-walked up the stairs
The second her door shut behind her, she threw herself onto the bed.
"Why. Why. WHY!!!"
She rolled off the mattress, grabbed the bell on her nightstand, and shook it
Monts later, her head maid arrived, blinking like she’d just been slapped awake.
"HOW," she hissed, "is Dante HERE?!"
The maid flinched. "I...I thought you knew."
"Knew what?"
"Your father... sent a backup invitation this afternoon. Just in case."
She stared at the ceiling.
Then scread into her pillow.
"This family is a dictatorship in pearls," she muttered.
The door slamd open again,
She looked up just in ti to see her mother walk in, eyes sharp
"I don’t know what fantasy you think you’re living in," her mother began icily, "but Dante is here. And you will behave like a proper young lady or so help -"
She paused mid air, narrowed her eyes, and smiled sweetly. Dangerously. "If you embarrass this family one more ti, I will personally sew you into your corset, lock you in heels three sizes too small, and drag you by your bun to the dinner table"
Viella blinked.
"Yes, Mother," she squeaked.
"Good." Her mother turned with a satisfied nod, and tossed over her shoulder, "And for heaven’s sake, wash that demonic tomato paste off your face. You looked like a rotten fruit tart."
And with that, she left.
"...What a disastrous woman," she whispered to the mirror. " I’m gonna die moisturized."
---
She stood in front of the mirror, now washed, powdered, and finally free of the cursed tomato face mask. The silk nightgown had been replaced by an elegant black gown, backless. It hugged her waist, flared at the hips.
Her hair, now perfectly styled in a loose but regal updo.
She stared at herself.
"What a waste of pretty face"
She thought.
"Okay," she whispered, hands gripping the vanity. "You’ve got this. You are elegant. Fantastic woman, Just dont lose your anger."
Her lip twitched. "...You are absolutely not going to trip on the stairs."
She took a deep breath. Then another.
"...Nope, not enough. One more."
She inhaled like she was about to walk into a battlefield. Which, to be fair, she was.
Her fiance the walking death flag was waiting.
So was the original female lead, Alina, sweet which for so reason feels fake
Her sister? Probably plotting a live comntary.
And her mother?
Well... her mother was sharpening invisible daggers for sure. And lets not talk about father at all.
"It’s ti to face so real shit," she muttered, grabbing the hem of her gown.
She took a deep breath, one last look at her reflection—
I can’t break down. Not yet.
It gonna be a long night~
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TO BE CONTINUED
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