Tainted Love

Chapter 9

Vivian stepped into her billion-dollar mansion, the marble floor gleaming under the soft golden lighting. The silence of the vast space wrapped around her like a cold blanket, stark and unwelcoming. She paused in the hallway, her heels clicking against the floor the only sound echoing in the emptiness.

"Is this freedom or loneliness?" she whispered to herself.

The mansion was hers—technically. So was her beauty, her designer wardrobe, and the sixty million dollars in her account. She had Victor. On paper, she had it all. But why did it feel like something enormous had been ripped from her chest? Why did the silence feel like a mocking echo of everything she had lost?

She sank into her plush, custom-designed velvet couch, burying her face in her hands as if she could trap her spiraling thoughts and keep them from escaping. She stayed there, hunched over, breathing unevenly.

“It’s fine, Vivian,” she mumbled, barely believing her own words. “You just left. You’ll be fine. You’ll build your own life, your own family. You’ll forget everything. Move on. That’s what people do.”

She rose and dragged herself toward the kitchen, hoping water would help shake her heavy mood. The moment she stepped in, she stopped.

The shelves were barren. No groceries, no snacks, not even bottled water. Just a few dusty glasses and a wine bottle long past its welcome.

“Oh, this is not it... whewww,” she sighed and returned to the living room to grab her phone.

She navigated the food and home essentials app with muscle memory, placing quick orders for basics—groceries, hygiene supplies, coffee, comfort snacks, candles. She clicked on the checkout button.

Nothing happened. The page glitched. Then came the notification: Transaction failed – Insufficient funds.

“What?” she blinked, stunned. “That can’t be right.”

She tapped again, checked her bank app.

Balance: $0.00

"s**t!" she exclaimed, her heart hammering against her ribs. With trembling fingers, she dialed Victor.

---

Meanwhile, in a dim, high-end hotel suite reeking of smoke, alcohol, and fading cologne, moans filled the air as Bianca straddled Victor, her skin glistening with sweat. The sheets twisted under their bodies, echoes of pleasure bouncing off the walls.

"Ahhhhhhh," they both groaned, collapsing into each other as the climax hit.

Bianca lay on Victor’s chest, her fingers tracing lazy circles over his bare skin.

"You know," she said, her voice low and breathless, "we have sixty million dollars. We could run. Disappear. Start over somewhere far away. Just you and me."

Victor exhaled deeply. "I’m working smart, baby. Trust me. You’ll understand everything soon."

Bianca sat up, her expression tightening. “I just hate the thought of you being married to another woman. What if you fall for her during all this... pretending?”

He reached up and cupped her cheek. “Don’t say that. Vivian might have the money, the mansion, the lifestyle, but I’m with you. You’re the one I want. I don’t even see anyone else.”

She bit her lip, her eyes searching his. “Then make me believe it.”

Victor sat up, drawing her into his lap. “Look, Vivian is my source of income. I have no degree, no family wealth. Nothing. Without her, I’m just a guy hustling for scraps. But with her, I can secure our future. Once I get everything I need, it’s you and me forever. I’ll marry you. We’ll leave this place and never look back. Don’t let her be a threat to what we have. You’re the only one I’ve got eyes for.”

He sealed his words with a kiss to her forehead, holding her close like she was the center of his universe. But across the room, Vivian’s name flashed repeatedly on his vibrating phone—missed calls, unanswered and unnoticed.

---

The loud, relentless chime of a doorbell jolted Vivian from sleep.

She rolled over groggily, her mind cloudy. “Why is the doorbell ringing? And where the hell are the bodyguards?”

Then it hit her—this wasn’t her father’s house. No guards. No rules. Just her. Alone.

She glanced at her phone. 6:00 a.m.

"Who the hell shows up uninvited at six in the morning?" she muttered, rising from bed.

Confused, she padded to the door. Only three people knew where she was—her best friend, Victor, and her parents. And she hadn’t told any of them her exact location.

The moment she opened the door, her breath caught.

Standing before her was the same woman who had escorted her back from Dubai—the ever-stoic assistant of her father. Flanking her were more guards than before, double the number.

Fear gripped her.

But then... hope.

“Maybe my dad wants to talk,” she said, trying to sound annoyed but secretly relieved. “Maybe now he’ll finally let me marry Victor.”

She squared her shoulders. “What now? Go tell my dad I’m not coming back. I’m cutting all ties with him.”

The woman didn’t flinch. “I wasn’t sent to deliver or receive a message, Miss Dary. My orders are to ensure you leave this property immediately.”

Vivian frowned, her voice rising. “Well, miss, I’m not going anywhere.”

She tried to shut the door, but the guards held it open, forcing their way inside. One of them grabbed her suitcase. Another pulled her designer bags from the closet. A third held her arms back while the rest swarmed through the house.

"Excuse me? Just because my dad said so doesn’t mean you can manhandle me or throw out my things!” she shouted, struggling. “Put everything back!”

They ignored her. One guard had already begun replacing the door locks.

“What are you doing?! Stop that!” Her voice cracked with fear and fury.

“I’m sorry, Miss Dary,” the woman said, cool and collected. “As of this moment, this property is no longer yours. It has been confiscated by your father. You are not to be seen in or around it again.”

Vivian froze.

Her father's words echoed in her mind:

“That’s it, Vivian. Either you listen to us or I’ll take back everything I’ve ever given you. Everything. From the day you were born.”

So... he meant it.

Her legs buckled slightly, the weight of betrayal pressing down like a thousand stones. “My dad?” she murmured. Her eyes were wide and glassy, unblinking.

“Now, Miss Dary,” the woman said gently but firmly. “The car keys.”

Vivian shook her head. “I’m not giving you anything,” she said through clenched teeth.

The woman turned without a word and barked an order to her men. “Tow the car.”

“Noooooooo!” Vivian screamed, lunging toward the driveway. “You can’t take that! That’s mine! You can’t—please!”

Her cries pierced the air, raw and painful, but they didn’t stop. The guards held her back effortlessly. She thrashed, kicked, sobbed, pleaded—but her strength was no match.

Minutes later, the house was locked up, the car towed, and Vivian left on the sidewalk, alone with nothing but a suitcase.

No money. No mansion. No car. No love.

Just silence. And betrayal.

As the car disappeared down the road, she collapsed to her knees, the morning light casting a cruel spotlight on her humiliation. Her shoulders shook as sobs wracked her body, the cold pavement beneath her unforgiving.

Her world had ended. And no one—not her mother, not even her own father—was coming to save her.

How could they possibly do this to their biological daughter?

"This is all your fault Cecilia! Is this what you want?;She screamed