Chapter 2 It's Been a While
753 Words
On the day Percival officially took over the company, Violet awkwardly slipped out of her clothes and approached him step by step, clumsy but determined in her seduction. Percival responded like a beast finally let off its leash, losing control as he took her again and again.
By the time it was over, traces of their passion had been left everywhere, against the floor-to-ceiling windows, across the desk, beside the bathtub.
Percival was skilled in bed. He always liked to kiss her while murmuring the same question in her ear.
"Vivi... Do you love me?"
Lost in the rising tide of sensation, Violet vaguely thought to herself that what she had wagered was only half a year of foolish devotion. Even if she never won Percival's heart, if all she ever had was his body, she was still walking away a winner.
"I love you..." Violet whimpered softly.
But tonight Percival was drunk. When he slumped over her, the name he breathed was someone else's.
"Cinny... Do you love me? Cynthia... I miss you so much. When I saw you with that guy, I almost lost my mind. Cynthia... No one could ever replace you..."
The agony and longing in his eyes crashed over Violet like a freezing tidal wave, chilling her straight to the bone.
Her mind went blank with a sharp buzz, as if all the blood in her body had suddenly rushed the wrong way.
It wasn't until Percival had fallen asleep that she noticed the newspaper spread across the coffee table.
The bold black headline was impossible to miss: Famed Violinist Cynthia Farley Returns to Morvani in Triumph, Greeted by Swarms of Fans.
The words seemed to leer at her, like a mocking grin, laughing at her foolishness and her misplaced feelings.
Violet stared at the photograph printed beneath the headline, the face that looked almost identical to her own.
Suddenly, everything felt meaningless. Even sleeping with Percival now seemed unbearably dull.
She had never been a stray. After six years of playing the substitute, she'd had her fill. It was time to go home and get married.
The next morning, Violet had barely stepped downstairs when she ran into Percival, sitting on the sofa. The sight surprised her.
Normally, Percival only came home at night.
"Cynthia's back," he said casually, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit.
Violet frowned slightly, unsure what he meant.
"There's a banquet tonight. You're coming with me," before she could respond, Percival added the words in a tone that carried a hint of command.
Three years ago, the first time Percival had brought Violet to a formal banquet, one of Cynthia's closest friends had stormed over in righteous fury and dumped an entire glass of wine over Violet's head, loudly calling her a homewrecker.
The very next day, that friend's family business collapsed.
Everyone knew whose doing it was.
Percival didn't like seeing Violet singled out or humiliated, and after that night, he never took her to events like that again.
Violet paused for a moment, then simply nodded. She didn't ask any further questions.
But it didn't take long for her to understand why he had brought her.
At the banquet, amid the clinking of glasses and low conversations, Cynthia appeared at the top of the grand spiral staircase, smiling as she descended with a man's arm looped through hers.
The brilliant spotlight fell instantly on her. Chin lifted, she looked almost untouchable, like someone who had stepped straight out of another world.
The moment the guests saw the two nearly identical faces, the room erupted into whispers.
"I heard Mr. Leblanc's stand-in looked like Ms. Farley, but I didn't realize it was this close."
"She must've had work done to look exactly like Ms. Farley. Women like that will do anything to marry into money. And she can still smile after the real one shows up? Honestly, that's shameless."
"Please. That smile's fake. Does she really think copying Cynthia's face means she'll become the next Mrs. Leblanc? Everyone knows she's just Mr. Leblanc's little distraction."
*****
The sharp, malicious comments drifted into Violet's ears. Yet she acted as if she hadn't heard a word, maintaining the same polite, practiced smile.
Petty attacks like these were nothing new to her. She'd seen far worse growing up.
Percival lifted his gaze and swept it across the room. Instantly, the voices fell silent.
No one dared provoke him.
"Percy. It's been a while."
Cynthia approached with the man beside her, raising her glass in greeting.
- Writer
