Chapter 3: Clash at the Garden Party
1078 Words
Chapter 3: Clash at the Garden Party
Three days later.
The Prescott family’s estate gleamed under the spring sunlight, dressed to impress for their daughter’s eighteenth birthday celebration.
Though the Prescotts weren’t the wealthiest in high society, they were known for their heritage—an old, bookish family with deep roots and prestigious ties. But for this milestone occasion, they'd gone all out. Nearly every notable name in the city’s elite circle had received an invitation.
Liana arrived with Vivian at her side.
Vivian wore a lavender off-shoulder gown that clung perfectly to her figure, making her look elegant and poised. Her features, while not breathtaking, bore a soft grace inherited from Cecilia. When she smiled brightly, heads turned.
But Liana…
Liana was in a scarlet cocktail dress, and she was radiant.
With her delicate features, porcelain complexion, and vivid eyes, she exuded a beauty that was sharp, dangerous—impossible to ignore. The crimson fabric hugged her curves just right, adding a touch of flirtation that drew every eye in the room.
Their dresses, hand-selected by Cecilia, were no coincidence. Purple was stately, refined. Red, on the other hand, was attention-grabbing. Almost provocative. Wearing it to a party honoring another debutante? A social faux pas, easily perceived as a challenge.
Liana knew it was deliberate.
Cecilia had always been subtle in her tactics, but Liana had lived through this once already—she saw the strategy clearly now. She simply played along, pretending to notice nothing, walking quietly a few steps behind Vivian.
People glanced their way as they passed. Whispers followed.
Vivian smiled stiffly. But she could feel it—that most eyes weren’t lingering on her. They were drawn to the girl behind her, the one in red.
Liana.
And that stung.
Her smile faltered as she overheard a young man muttering to a friend, "Who’s the girl in red? She doesn’t look like just a guest…”
Vivian spun around.
"Liana, let’s switch dresses."
Her voice held no room for discussion.
Liana blinked, feigning surprise. "Sister… is that appropriate?"
Vivian scowled. “Why are you questioning me?”
“I just… Aunt Cecilia chose these dresses for us. She might not like it if we switch,” Liana replied softly, her eyes wide with concern. “She picked them specially, didn’t she?”
Vivian clenched her jaw. Of course Cecilia had done it on purpose. She’d been planning to catch the eye of the Ashbourne heir tonight, even after Vivian had made it clear she wanted to marry into the Aldridges instead.
How dare she?
“I said, switch with me.”
Liana flinched and nodded quickly. “Okay… don’t be angry. I’ll do it.”
Vivian gave her a look of disgust. She always hated how submissive Liana acted—like a little lamb with no mind of her own. And yet, somehow, Liana always seemed to come out ahead.
Not this time.
Vivian dragged her into a side restroom, and the two swapped dresses hastily. Their figures were close enough that the fit didn’t raise suspicion.
Vivian smoothed the red fabric with satisfaction, giving herself one last approving glance in the mirror. She tossed her hair and turned to leave.
“You can finish fixing yourself,” she said coldly, tossing the words over her shoulder. “I’m heading back out.”
Liana didn’t respond. She kept her head lowered, fingers adjusting the lavender gown with slow, deliberate movements.
Once Vivian was gone, she lifted her head, her expression calm and calculating.
She remembered everything from the last time—how this party had sealed Vivian’s engagement to the Ashbournes. How they had praised her poise and elegance in lavender. How they thought she looked “fit to be a duchess.”
Vivian must have remembered it too.
That’s why she wanted to trade.
Liana smirked.
Even after living a second life, Vivian was still predictable. Still shallow. Still stupid.
In high society, color mattered. Style mattered. But what truly left an impression was grace.
Red might catch the eye.
But lavender earned the proposal.
—
Liana stepped into the garden behind the hall, where a cluster of young women gathered under white canopies sipping tea and nibbling pastries.
Vivian was already there—laughing with a group of socialites, basking in their attention in her stolen crimson dress.
The second she spotted Liana, her smile faltered.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped.
Several girls turned, their gazes falling on Liana with polite curiosity.
"Isn’t that… the Ashfords’ niece?" one of them asked.
Liana approached with quiet confidence, offering a graceful bow. “Good afternoon, Miss Sullivan.”
The woman blinked in surprise. “Oh—how lovely to meet you! Please, join us.”
Liana smiled sweetly. She was radiant in the soft purple, her presence soothing and elegant in contrast to Vivian’s aggressive scarlet.
She greeted each girl warmly—most of them she recognized from her past life. This time, she wasn’t just another accessory to Vivian’s spotlight.
She was playing her own game.
“You have such a lovely sister,” one of the girls commented. “So polite and gentle.”
Vivian’s smile stiffened further.
She forced a laugh. “Well, she’s not really my sister. Technically, she’s just our cousin. My parents took her in after her family passed, so she lives with us.”
Another girl—Hannah Greene, if Liana remembered right—arched a brow. “Oh? I didn’t realize. You seem very close.”
Vivian smirked. “We are. But of course, she’s not a real Ashford. Just… part of the household.”
“Is that so?” Hannah glanced at Liana, who gave a small, bashful smile and lowered her gaze—just enough to look humble, not weak.
Vivian’s friend, Clara Hanley, jumped in with a sneer. “Honestly, it’s confusing when she stands here like she belongs. She should be careful not to overstep. Makes the rest of us look… less important.”
Liana blinked, her lashes trembling. She bit her lip and looked hurt.
Oh yes.
Here came the loyal attack dog.
In her last life, Clara had been head over heels for Grayson Ashbourne. She’d fawned over him at every opportunity.
And yet, Vivian was the one who married him.
That friendship hadn’t lasted long.
Liana tilted her head ever so slightly, still silent, still looking hurt.
One dog down, she thought.
Let’s see who’s next.
- Writer
