MY WORST NIGHTMARE.

VIVIAN'S POV After Lucas had left, I just sat there for a while, trying to catch my breath. He said he had chores to do... maybe he did, or maybe he just needed to leave before things got too real. The silence he left behind felt heavy, thick, pressing against my chest. I couldn't believe what had just happened between us. It felt unreal...like I was living someone else's life. For the first time, I didn't feel like a little girl trapped under my mother's shadow or my father's name. I felt like a woman. Like me. He took care of me. He gave me what I wanted, what I'd been craving, what I didn't even know I needed until now. I was still sitting there on the red couch, completely bare, my dress pooled around my feet, when the door suddenly burst open. "Vivian!" My heart stopped. My mother stood there... Margaret Hamilton... framed in the doorway like some wrathful goddess, her eyes wide, her face pale and then quickly flushing into anger. I froze. It took me a second to even understand what I was seeing... or what she was seeing. Then it hit me. I was naked. Panic shot through me. I snatched up my dress and tried to cover myself, fumbling, trembling. "Mother-" But the look on her face made my words die on my tongue. Fury. Pure, undiluted fury. "This-" she started, her voice shaking, her eyes darting from me to the room and back again, "this shouldn't be what I'm thinking, Vivian. You wouldn't-" she took a step forward, her jaw tight, "you wouldn't stoop that low." Her tone sliced through the air. "Mom...please, I can explain," I stammered, clutching the dress tighter against me, my voice shaking. "Oh, can you?" she snapped, her lips curling. "Because I just saw that riffraff...that servant...sneaking out of this basement not even a minute ago! And before that, I noticed you'd been missing from your own party for two hours. Two hours, Vivian!" Her voice echoed through the room. I tried to speak, but she didn't stop. "And now I find you here," she continued, her voice trembling with disgust, "in your father's house, in the very same home that man works in, rubbing dirt on your father's reputation! Do you have any idea what you've done?" I stood up, clutching the dress to my chest, feeling the burn of tears in my eyes. "Mom...it's not what it seems, I swear! I just-" "Don't you dare lie to me!" she cut me off, her voice sharp enough to make me flinch. "You-" she pointed at me, her hands shaking, "you had s*x with a servant. Your father's servant!" Her words hit like a slap. "Mom..." my voice broke. "You don't understand." "Oh, I understand perfectly," she said coldly. "I warned you about that boy. I warned you. But you never listen, do you? Always thinking you're too smart, too good to follow rules. Look at you now." I looked up at her, my heart pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat. "Mom, I love him." Her face twisted. "Love?" she repeated, almost laughing. "You don't know what love is, Vivian. What you did was reckless. Disgusting. Shameful." The way she said it... shameful... made my throat tighten. "I'm not ashamed," I said softly, though my voice trembled. "What's done is done. You can't change that. You can't change me." Her eyes widened slightly... not from surprise, but rage. "How dare you talk to me like that?" "Because it's my life!" I shouted suddenly, the words bursting out of me like they'd been trapped for years. "All my life you've tried to control me! What I wear, what I say, who I talk to, what I become. You and Father both. But not this time. I made my own choice, and I'm not sorry for it." Her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. "You think you're grown because you turned eighteen?" she said bitterly. "You think that makes you wise?" "No," I said, my voice shaking. "But it makes me free." She stared at me for a long second, and then she smiled... but it wasn't a kind smile. It was cold, cruel. "Fine," she said. "If you think you're so free, then you can explain your freedom to your father." My stomach dropped. "Mom... no. Please don't-" "Oh, I will." Her voice was calm now, dangerously calm. "Wait till your father hears that his most trusted servant dared to touch his precious daughter. Let's see if your freedom saves him from what's coming." "Mom, please don't tell Father," I begged, stepping forward. "Please, I'm begging you. If he finds out, he'll...he'll send Lucas away. Or worse." She turned back to me, her expression a mix of pity and irritation. "You brought this on yourself. I've warned you time and time again about that boy. He's not your match, Vivian. He's not your kind. He's beneath you." I felt something inside me snap. "Why can't you let me live my own life? Why do I always have to be what you want me to be?" "Because we know what's best for you!" she fired back. "You're still young, naive, and stupid. You think you understand love? You don't even understand consequences." "Then let me learn them myself!" I cried. She shook her head, sighing like she was tired of me. "When I was your age," she said coldly, "I learned never to speak out of turn. Never to question my parents. Never to disobey. And I turned out just fine." "Fine?" I whispered bitterly. "You turned out cold." Her jaw clenched. She looked like she wanted to slap me, but she didn't. Instead, she turned sharply and stormed out, slamming the door behind her. The sound echoed in my ears long after she left. For a moment, I couldn't move. The room felt suffocating. My legs shook as I sat back down on the couch, trying to calm my breathing. But the more I tried, the harder it became. My chest hurt. My hands wouldn't stop trembling. She was going to tell Father. And once she did, Lucas would be ruined. He'd lose everything... his job, his home, maybe even his mother. And it would be my fault. I pressed my hands over my face, trying to stop the tears, but they came anyway. I stayed there for what felt like hours, whispering to myself, trying to think of a plan. Maybe if I could talk to Father first... explain... maybe he'd understand. But deep down, I knew he wouldn't. When I finally stood up, my head was pounding. The house was quiet at first, but then I heard it...voices. Raised voices. Footsteps. A sudden clatter from upstairs. My heart dropped. It was happening. I hurriedly threw on my dress, not bothering to fix my hair. My shoes were too high, I couldn't run in them, so I just held them in one hand, gathering my gown in the other as I bolted up the basement stairs. The air upstairs was colder. The house felt different... tense. Empty, yet full of noise somewhere far away. The event hall was deserted. The decorations were still glowing faintly, the floor littered with petals and confetti from earlier. I looked around, breathless, but saw no one. Then I heard Voices... loud, sharp, echoing down the hallway. My father's chambers. My blood ran cold. I started toward the sound, my heartbeat loud in my ears. The closer I got, the louder it became... shouting, arguing, my father's deep voice breaking through the chaos. I reached the door. My fingers were shaking so badly I could barely grip the handle. My palms were sweaty. For a second, I hesitated. Maybe I should turn back. Maybe I didn't want to know what was happening inside. But then I heard my mother's voice... and the tone she used. Cold. Triumphant. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open. And what I saw inside made my heart stop. My mouth fell open. My eyes burned. Tears rolled down my face before I even understood why. "No..." was all I could manage to whisper.