Vivian’s POV. A Plan Gone Wrong
795 Words
I stepped into the Beckett mansion, my heart pounding with anticipation. The place was unreal—marble floors polished to mirror perfection, crystal chandeliers dripping from impossibly high ceilings, a museum of wealth and power.
But none of that dazzled me.
It was Julian.
The man I was supposed to marry.
The man I had loved from afar for years.
He despised the idea of our engagement.
I could see it in the cold, detached way he looked at me during the announcement dinner — like I was a prison sentence he couldn’t escape.
It stung.
Still, I wasn’t the kind of girl who backed down at the first sign of trouble.
Living under the same roof made it easier to observe him — and to see what was truly pulling him away.
Her.
That maid. Lily.
I watched the way his gaze softened when she passed.
How he always seemed to find excuses to be near her.
How Lily, the nobody from nowhere, had somehow wormed her way into his heart.
Fury flared in my chest, white-hot and blinding.
How dare she?
Julian belonged to me.
Not her. Not some servant playing Cinderella.
And so, a plan began to take shape.
⸻
The next day, I summoned Lily to my room with a fabricated emergency.
“My bathroom’s a mess,” I lied sweetly, wringing my hands in mock distress.
She hesitated — I saw the uncertainty flicker in her eyes — but in the end, she nodded and agreed.
Perfect.
That night, when no one was watching, I slipped my diamond necklace beneath the loose panel of my vanity — the perfect place for it to mysteriously reappear later.
I barely slept, adrenaline thrumming through me like electricity.
⸻
The next morning, my shriek tore through the mansion like a blade.
People came running from every corner — maids, butlers, even Mr. and Mrs. Beckett.
All wide-eyed. All ready for a scandal.
Standing in the center of the room, I pointed a trembling, accusatory finger straight at Lily.
“She stole my diamond necklace!” I sobbed, my voice shaking just enough to sound convincing.
Gasps filled the hall.
Whispers erupted.
Eyes sharpened and turned — not toward me — but toward Lily.
Poor Lily.
She stood there, frozen, looking like a deer caught in headlights.
Julian immediately stepped forward, his jaw tight, his entire body coiled like a spring.
“Lily would never—” he started.
But my tears — fake, shimmering, beautifully timed — drowned him out.
“Please,” I whimpered. “Just check her things. If I’m wrong… I’ll apologize.”
Reluctantly, Julian nodded.
We searched her quarters.
And right there, tucked neatly among her belongings, was my missing necklace.
The room went dead silent.
A heavy, suffocating silence.
“I didn’t steal it,” Lily gasped, falling to her knees as if the weight of the accusation had crushed her.
I almost felt bad. Almost.
But then I saw Julian’s expression — the doubt warring with his loyalty to her — and I knew I hadn’t truly won.
“Maybe she was framed,” Julian said, his voice low and dangerous, his furious gaze burning into me like fire.
I forced myself to tremble harder, to look more wounded than wicked.
But deep inside, I knew — he didn’t buy it.
Not for a second.
⸻
A few days later, a knock sounded at my door.
When I opened it, Julian stood there, stone-faced.
“I know what you did,” he said flatly, every word slicing through the thin air between us.
My stomach twisted.
“Someone saw you sneaking around Lily’s room the night before,” he continued.
“You’re lucky I haven’t exposed you to everyone.”
He didn’t need to say the rest.
The threat was clear:
Confess, or he would ruin me.
So I smiled sweetly through gritted teeth, summoned the entire household, and painted the theft as a “misunderstanding.”
“I must have misplaced the necklace myself,” I announced, my voice dripping with false humility.
But even as I spoke, I could feel their eyes on me.
They didn’t believe me.
Not really.
Worst of all?
Julian’s hand slipped into Lily’s as they left the room together — stronger, closer, more united than ever.
I seethed.
This wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
Later that night, alone in my room, I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I’d hoped I’d never need to use.
It rang once.
“Yeah?” came a rough voice on the other end.
I glanced around, making sure no one was listening.
Then, with a wicked smile curving my lips, I whispered:
“I’ve got a job for you.”
- Writer
