Game on
1362 Words
RESTAURANT GARDEN – DAY**
A warm afternoon. The friends are gathered for a garden brunch— long tables set with elegant dishes, laughter floating in the air. Cousins and siblings chatter in small groups under string lights and trailing vines.
Emmanuel arrives from the far end of the yard, sunglasses on, phone in hand. He greets his brother , nods to a few cousins, but doesn’t even glance toward Brianna — who is already seated across the lawn, pretending to be absorbed in conversation with Cleo and Jasmine
Claudia is seated between two of Emmanuel’s cousins , watches all of it like a hawk.
Claudia is sipping her mocktail, smugly.
Strange, isn’t it? He used to not take his eyes off her. Maybe some things just… fizzle. She said to one of Emmanuel’s friends
Samira chuckles politely, unsure whether it’s a question or an insult.
Across the table, Anna laughs at something Cleo says, tossing her hair back and stealing a quick glance toward Emmanuel— just for a second.
He doesn’t look back.
Instead, Emmanuel takes a seat beside his older brother, Cyrus , and starts chatting casually, keeping his voice light, posture relaxed. But he’s stiff under it all — only Anna would notice the twitch in his jaw.
Cyrus muttered under his breath. “You two rehearsed this cold shoulder or winging it?”
Emmanuel smirks faintly. “Method acting.”
Meanwhile, Anna excuses herself from the table and walks past Claudia — who leans back with interest. Brianna doesn’t even flinch, just keeps walking, calm and cool.
Claudia glances toward Emmanuel . He doesn't even blink.
Claudia said to, to herself. “Well, well… cracks in the fairy tale.”
GARDEN – SIDE PATH – MOMENTS LATER
Brianna rounds a corner and stops behind a tree near the edge of the garden. A moment later, Emmanuel appears from the opposite side.
They meet eyes.
Silence. Then Brianna exhales a shaky breath. smirking. “That might’ve been the most dramatic walk of my life.”
Emmanuel replied softly. “I hated having not to be looking at you.”
Brianna sighed. “I hated how good you looked when you didn’t,”
They smile for just a moment. Then the voices of guests drift closer, and they both straighten up. “We should get back. Let them think we’re worlds apart.” He suggested.
Anna nods understandingly. “But closer than ever.”
He gently brushes her hand with his fingertips — brief, fleeting.
They part again — walking in opposite directions like strangers in a story only they understand.
Later that evening at the Dennis mansion.
The room is dim, warmly lit by a single antique lamp. Walls lined with books, a fireplace crackling. **MR. Dennis , sharp-eyed and composed, pours himself a scotch.
Down the hallway, the faint sound of Claudia laughing into her phone floats into the room. His study door is open just a crack. Claudia spoke into phone, with a smug giggle. “No, of course he doesn’t suspect a thing. Please — the old man practically *begged* me to marry his precious son.”
Mr.Dennis freezes, glass halfway to his lips. He sets it down — quietly.
Claudia continued “I’ll play doting fiancée and wife for a few years. Once I’m in, I get half of everything — and then we get everything into my name,*exactly* as we planned. You and me. His son’s too busy saving the world to notice what’s right under his nose. Then he’s as good as disposable.”
A pause. Mr.Dennis’s jaw tightens ever so slightly.
“Honestly, I thought this would be harder. But they all want to believe I’m some sweet little thing. Especially the father. He looks at me like I’m the daughter he never had. He looks like he would love to add me to his daughters. Hilarious, right?”
Mr.Dennis walks calmly to the study door. Opens it fully. The hallway is empty now, Claudia’s voice echoing faintly from the veranda.
He steps out, quiet and calculated.
Claudia leans against a column, still on her phone, sipping wine and smirking. “Yeah. It’s all falling into place. I’ll let you know when the papers are signed. Then? We’re done and richer!.”
She ends the call. Turns.
And *startles* — because Mr.Dennis is standing just a few feet behind her, smiling, composed, glass in hand.
Claudia quickly recovered. “Oh! I didn’t hear you—sorry, I was just on the phone with my cousin. She’s planning her wedding too — chaos.”
MR. Dennis nods slowly. “Ah. I do hope it works out for her.”
He studies her — not a flicker of what he knows showing on his face.
Claudia changed the subject. “You needed something?”
MR.Dennis replied cheerfully. “Just wanted to say how glad I am you’re becoming part of this family. You’ve really charmed us all.”
Claudia of course had her soft, false humility. “That means a lot coming from you.”
**MR. Dennis, smiles thinly. “Doesn’t it?”
Claudia laughs, walks past him with a kiss to his cheek, and heads inside — light as air, unaware of the storm quietly brewing behind her.
Mr.Dennis stays behind, staring out into the night.
His smile fades.
MR.Dennis talked to himself. “Let’s see how well you play when the game changes.”
He takes a sip of his scotch
DENNIS ESTATE – PRIVATE STUDY – LATE NIGHT
The clock ticks. A storm brews outside — rain taps against the porch .
Emmanuel stands by the fireplace, tense, running a hand through his hair. He’s holding a folder — documents, evidence. His eyes are heavy with disbelief and anger.
MR.Dennis enters quietly, holding two glasses of whiskey. He offers one to his son.
Emmanuel spoke with sarcasm. “I didn’t want to believe it, Dad. I always knew she was sassy, pretending and all, but never this bad .”
**MR. DENNIS. Replied softly. “Neither did I.”
Nuel looks at him — really looks. There’s a question in his eyes. “How long have you known?”
Mr.Dennis takes a slow sip, then sets his glass down. “I heard her. On the phone. Two nights ago. She called me “the old man,” said she’d “play doting” until she got half of everything. Called you disposable.”
Nuel looks away, jaw clenched. He tried suppressing the happiness in him. He felt like telling his father that he was right all along. He looked up at the wall clock and calculated the remaining minutes his brother had to reach home. “I had my suspicions. I started digging. That’s what’s in the folder.”
He hands it over. Mr.Dennis flips through it silently — financial trails, forged documents, connections to a man she claimed not to know.
MR.DENNIS was satisfied with quiet fury. “She’s clever. But not clever enough.”
A long silence between them. “So what do we do?” Emmanuel asked.
Mr.Dennis looks up at his son. There’s pride in his eyes now — and steel. “We let her walk right into the spotlight she’s been begging for. You go through with your plans. Whatever you were going to do — the exposure, the press, the legal action — do it.”
Emmanuel hesitates. “You sure?” He asked with doubts showing on his face.
Mr. Dennis replied with determination. “Son, I’ve built my legacy on knowing when to be silent — and when to strike. This isn’t just about protecting the family name. It’s about protecting you.”
Emmanuel nods. The shift is quiet but firm. The firelight flickers between them, casting long shadows on the walls.
MR.DENNIS(CONT'D). “Let her think she’s still winning. Let her wear the dress. Smile for the cameras. Then take it all from her — the same way she planned to take it from us.”
Emmanuel clenches his fist, the hurt replaced with clarity. “Then let’s end the performance.”
They clink glasses — not in celebration, but in declaration.
- Writer
