The Forsaken Heiress' Comeback

Vivienne Lancaster sat in front of the mirror in her engagement gown that was deepened in colors of ivory and gold with a beautiful tiara that rested beautifully on her head. Her gown made her look stunning as it showcased her hips in a classy manner.

She was 25 years old, 5 foot 7 in height, with a slender but toned build accompanied by a long wavy chestnut-brown hair, as her eyes were piercing emerald green eyes. 

Around her, she had a small group of stylists who helped make her into this beautiful heiress that they kept gushing at. A final dusting of translucent powder with a gentle spritz of her signature perfume. They gave her assurance that she looked breathtaking. Everything had been orchestrated to perfection just as it had been her entire life.

She felt elated, this was the moment she had dreamt of since childhood, the grand engagement to Damian Whitmore, the golden boy, the son of her father's closest friend. Their union was meant to cement two powerful legacies, a love story scripted in wealth and tradition.

An unexpected and intense wave of nausea surged through her. It was not merely anxiety; rather, it was a primal sensation that clawed inside her. The voices around Vivienne started blurring to murmurs as her chest tightened.

"Miss Lancaster?" one of the attendants asked hesitantly, noticing the distress in her, because she usually had a composed demeanor.

She forced a tight smile, swallowing hard against the tide rising within her. "Would you please excuse me?" she said, rising with a surprising urgency. The heavy train of her dress, dragged against the floor as she ran to the washroom that was near the dressing room.

The door clicked shut behind her just in time when she clutched the sink, she exhaled heavily as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. A perfect image, yet cracks were forming beneath her surface. What was happening to me? she thought.

She splashed cold water onto her face, thankfully the makeup artists hadn't gone deep into beautifying her, they could easily redo it. she inhaled deeply as the last remnants of nausea faded. She straightened herself meeting her reflection in the mirror once more. The uncertainty that had gripped her moments ago, was gone.

After thinking it through, she readjusted her gown and she was on her way back to her dressing room. The faint murmur of conversations that came from the slightly open door to the hallway caused her to stop. She tilted her head and she could have sworn she heard voices that were familiar speaking.

When she went to look at who they were, she was shocked to see that it was her stepmother, half-sister and Damian. What were they talking about?

A chill settled in her bones as she inched closer, the rich mahogany door concealing her presence. As she held her breath for the ultimate surprise she knew Damian was planning for her, she smiled and then she leaned in closer to listen.

"She's completely blind to it," her stepmother's voice sneered, dripping with satisfaction. "By the time she realizes, she'll already be Damian's wife, and Lancaster Enterprises will be ours."

Her blood ran cold.

A hushed chuckle of Carla her half-sister followed. "Father never saw it coming either. Foolish man. A few fabricated numbers, a well-placed informant, and now he rots in prison for a crime he never committed."

A sickening realization settled in her.

"She trusts you completely," her stepmother purred, addressing Damian now. "Keep her in love, keep her complacent. Once the ink dries on the marriage certificate, she'll be nothing more than a stepping stone to power."

Silence. Then, Damian's voice came smoothly, deliberate and devoid of any warmth.

"She was never more than that."

The final shred of air left her lungs. 

Her nails were digging into her palms as a new emotion swelled with her rage. The love, the trust, the years she had devoted to Damian...all of it had been carefully crafted as a lie. Her father had been framed, her future was being stolen before it had even begun.

Her vision blurred with tears, but with the sharp clarity of betrayal, they thought she was blind, they really thought she was weak, Vivienne couldn't hold it anymore. 

She recoiled from the entrance, her breath escaping in shallow, fragmented gasps. The foundations of her reality had collapsed in a moment, revealing only betrayal and falsehood. Her legs propelled her forward instinctively, before she could comprehend the full extent of the revelations she had just encountered.

She ran.

She ran down the corridor, distancing herself from the voices that were planning to take her down with their evil plans. She couldn't believe that the man she had loved for over 20 years was the one who was actually planning to backstab her, how was she ever blind to this? How did she never see the signs of Damian as a lying snake? When did their treachery towards her and her father begin?

Vivienne was blinded by tears that rolled on her face, slowly messing up her make-up, she didn't see the figure that came around the corner, until it was too late.

A sudden impact, a firm chest and steady hands that instinctively reached to catch her. Then she took a sharp intake of breath, they both did. The moment passed in a blur.

"I'm-" her voice cracked, hoarse and broken. "I'm sorry."

She didn't wait for a reply, she turned her face as she bowed her head. She distanced herself, departing from the residual warmth of his touch and the scent of an unfamiliar individual that nonetheless provided a sense of stability.

By the time she reached her dressing room, her heart was a storm within her ribs. She pushed through the doors, expecting dreading, to find her stepmother, half-sister or even Damian.

But the room was empty.

The absence was startling. Had they returned to the party? Had they realized she overhead them? They couldn't have heard her, she was out there as quick as she could, not to mention, they were busy chuckling thinking she was the biggest fool as she was blind to their manipulations, especially from her fiancé.

She pressed her trembling hands on the cool surface of the dresser with a rage that rose from within her heart , darkening every corner of it, you could see in her eyes, that pain and the tempest of darkness had now engulfed her, she wasn't a person of pure innocence at the moment, no mercy would be shown.

They had no idea what she was about to do.