As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the Ross estate, Vivienne sat in the grand living room, waiting patiently for John to return home. She was dressed impeccably, as always, in a tailored dress that hugged her figure, her makeup flawless despite the hours that had passed since she first applied it that morning. Her appearance was a reflection of her life—carefully curated, meticulously maintained, and utterly deceptive.
Camille, on the other hand, was anything but calm. She paced the room, her anxiety palpable as she wrung her hands together. Her mother's plan, which had seemed so perfect and foolproof earlier, now filled her with dread. What if something went wrong? What if they were caught? The consequences could be disastrous, not just for her, but for her mother as well.
"Mother," Camille began, her voice trembling slightly, "are you sure this will work? I mean, what if we get caught? Father will kill us. He might not love Luna like he does me and my brother, but he won't stand for anything that could tarnish his image. And Luna—she's always surrounded by bodyguards. How can we be sure she'll be alone?"
Vivienne, who had been sipping her papaya juice with an air of detachment, turned her gaze to her daughter. There was a hint of amusement in her eyes, as if she found Camille's concerns to be somewhat endearing, if not entirely misplaced. Setting her glass down on the marble-topped table, she leaned back in her chair, her expression softening as she regarded Camille.
"Sweetheart," Vivienne said in a soothing tone, "you need to trust me. This isn't the first time I've orchestrated something like this. I've been playing this game long before you were even born."
Camille's eyes narrowed as she studied her mother. There was something in Vivienne's tone that sent a chill down her spine, something that hinted at a past she knew nothing about. "What do you mean, Mother? What did you do before? When?"
Vivienne's expression shifted ever so slightly, her smile becoming a bit sharper. "That, my dear, is none of your concern. Just know that I'm very good at what I do. I've learned from experience how to handle situations like this without leaving a trace."
Camille felt a knot tighten in her stomach. She had always known her mother was a master manipulator, but hearing her speak so casually about it, as if it were just another day in the life, was unsettling. "But—"
"Enough, Camille," Vivienne interrupted, her tone now firm and brooking no argument. "You need to trust me. Everything will go according to plan, and soon, Luna won't be a problem for us anymore."
Camille bit her lip, still unsure but knowing better than to push her mother further. Vivienne had a way of making people do as she wished, and Camille knew that questioning her too much could lead to consequences she wasn't prepared to face.
Instead, Camille sighed and sat down beside her mother, trying to calm the nerves that were still gnawing at her. She wanted to believe Vivienne, to trust that everything would work out as planned, but a small voice in the back of her mind kept whispering doubts.
Vivienne, noticing her daughter's continued unease, placed a reassuring hand on Camille's. "You worry too much, darling. We'll get what we want, and no one will ever suspect a thing. Just stay calm and let me handle the details."
Camille nodded, though her heart wasn't entirely in it. As she sat there, watching her mother's calm and composed demeanor, she couldn't help but wonder just how far Vivienne was willing to go to get what she wanted. And more importantly, what would happen if the plan didn't go as smoothly as Vivienne predicted?
Vivienne, on the other hand, felt no such doubts. She had played this game before, and she had always come out on top. This time would be no different. As she waited for John to return, she mentally went over the steps of her plan, ensuring that every detail had been accounted for. Luna's fate was sealed—she just didn't know it yet.
But in the back of Vivienne's mind, a flicker of her past misdeeds briefly surfaced, memories she had long buried. She pushed them aside quickly, reminding herself that she had always been in control, and she would remain so.
When John finally walked through the door, Vivienne's face lit up with a smile. Camille, too, tried to put on a brave face, though the anxiety still lingered beneath the surface. As John greeted them both, oblivious to the storm brewing just beneath the surface, Vivienne's mind was already on the next move, confident that nothing would stand in her way.
The only thing left was to execute the plan flawlessly, and Vivienne was nothing if not a perfectionist. Luna Ross would soon be nothing more than a memory, and Camille would finally get what she deserved—or so Vivienne believed.
Vivienne, sensing her daughter's distraction, gave Camille's hand a reassuring squeeze under the table, a silent reminder to stay focused and trust the process. The wheels were already in motion, and there was no turning back now.
For Vivienne, this was just another chapter in the long game she had been playing for years—a game where only the strongest survived, and she had no intention of losing.
As they sat down to dinner, Vivienne made sure to keep the conversation light and engaging, her charm working effortlessly. She flashed a warm smile across the table, carefully monitoring John's mood as she spoke. Camille, sitting quietly, picked at her food, trying to mimic her mother's ease but finding it difficult to focus. Her mind was racing with thoughts of their plan, anxiety gnawing at her insides. She wondered, *What if this goes wrong? What if Father finds out?* She could feel her heart beating faster at the thought.
Vivienne, ever the master of subtlety, slid into the conversation with a casual question. "John, how's everything going at work? I heard from your secretary that Luna's quite immersed in that Dreamland project." Her tone was sweet, but underneath, she was carefully gauging John's reaction.
John's expression hardened slightly, and he gave her a pointed look. "Vivienne, not this again. I've told you before, Luna is the heir, and our son will have his time. Stop pushing this notion of Camille or our son taking over. Luna's position isn't up for debate."
Vivienne's smile remained intact, but there was a slight twitch in the corner of her mouth. She was well-practiced in keeping her composure. "Oh, darling, it's not about that at all," she reassured him, her voice laced with warmth. "I see Luna as my own, you know that. It's just that now she's marrying Kiad, and I worry about Camille. She's yet to find a suitable match, and of course, there's our son's future to consider." Vivienne's words were carefully chosen, designed to sound nurturing while subtly planting seeds of concern.
John hummed in response, his expression thoughtful but noncommittal. He took a sip of his wine, then looked back at Vivienne with a sharp gaze. "And how exactly did you hear this from my secretary? I've noticed Ana seems to know a lot more about my personal affairs than she should."
Vivienne's smile faltered, just for a split second, before she quickly recovered. "Oh, nothing to worry about, John. I just asked her about your lunch plans the other day." Her voice was breezy, dismissing the matter as trivial.
Underneath the table, Vivienne slowly moved her hand forward and rested it on John's thigh, caressing it gently. "I've been feeling so tired and restless lately, John," she whispered, her tone suggestive, eyes glancing meaningfully at him.
John understood her intention, the subtle cues in her voice and touch. He cleared his throat, the sound loud enough to be a clear signal. His eyes flicked briefly towards Camille, still seated with them, and then back to Vivienne, a silent reminder that their daughter was present and that certain things should wait.
Camille, pretending to be engrossed in her meal, was acutely aware of the exchange between her parents. She wasn't a child anymore, and she knew exactly what was going on. Yet, she kept her face neutral, playing the role of the innocent daughter, even though a part of her felt a strange satisfaction in watching her mother's subtle machinations unfold.