Stephanie

Dante's lips left mine but the imprint of his kiss still lingered. He leaned his forehead against mine and smiled.

“You better know what you're doing,” he said.

Then he pulled away like it hadn't just changed everything. As he turned and walked off, he glanced back with that cocky grin of his.

“I'm looking forward to the party you're planning for me.”

The nerve.

I returned home in a daze, my fingers brushing over my lips as if trying to wipe away the memory. But it clung to me, heavy and hot, like the scent of him still trapped in my skin. I shook my head and made for the stairs, needing space, silence, anything.

Instead, I got Vivian.

She stepped into my oath like she'd been waiting, the smell of Jack's cologne trailing off her in waves. I almost laughed. Of course, she'd wear it like a badge.

“Jack’s been waiting for you for over an hour,” she said, smug. “I helped entertain him.”

Entertain. The word twisted something sharp in my gut.

I leaned in, feigning a smile. “If people find out you're ‘entertaining’ someone's fiancé, they'll talk.”

She scoffed. “Please. That's not possible.”

“Oh, Vivian,” I said, stepping closer. “News travels fast. Especially among the maids.”

A gasp echoed from down the hall, followed by a door slamming shut.

Vivian's eyes darted to the source, her expression cracking for a fraction of a second before fury took it's place.

I smiled wider, brushing a strand of black hair off her shoulders like it was a pet. “You dropped this.”

Then I turned and walked away. She had slept with my fiancé. I knew it now. I'd suspected it for weeks, but the confirmation burned all the same. I stormed into my room, my fingers trembling as I grabbed the telephone.

He answered on the second ring.

“Hello, little songbird.”

“I'm in.”

A pause then Dante's amused voice. “In for what?”

I swallowed the tightness in my chest. “I want us to meet later. To discuss our plan.”

“And Jack?”

“I'm not marrying him,” I said, steel lacing every word. “I'll marry you instead.”

Dinner was a circus. I arrived late, Elora, my stepmother who also happened to be my personal tormentor, narrowed her eyes like a hawk spotting a weakness.

“You're late again,” Elora snapped, her voice sharp enough to cut through steel. “Why can't you be more like Vivian? She's always on time, always graceful.”

I didn't flinch. I'd stopped expecting fairness a long time ago.

Vivian let out a delicate laugh, brushing a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear.

“Mother, please,” she said, placing her hand over her chest like some noble heroine from a tragic play. “You don't have to say that. Even though Stephanie doesn't have any real talent, she's still a good sister.”

I turned towards her, narrowing my eyes. There it was again, that poison she always masked with sweetness.

My lips curled, just barely, but I said nothing. Not yet.

Elora sighed dramatically like she carried the weight of the world. “Oh Vivian, you're too kind. Honestly, I still don't understand why Jack is the one marrying Stephanie and not you. At least, you wouldn't have to be handed to that monster, Dante.”

The room grew still.

A low, intentional “Ahem!” broke the silence.

Father.

His gaze was like ice, cutting through the air. The insult to Dante hadn't gone unnoticed. Not by him. Not by me. Not by anyone.

The silence that followed was heavier than lead.

Vivian must've sensed it too. Her eyes flicked towards me and when she saw the expression on my face, whatever mask she wore cracked, just for a second.

She rose to her feet with the elegance of a swan but he eyes of a snake.

“Don't move a muscle, sister,” she said with a honeyed smile. “I'll serve you tonight.”

I tilted my head slightly, watching her as she walked around the table.

Oh, I wasn't planning to move.

But she had no idea hat she'd just started.

I watched her hands as she poured. Too slow. Too calculated.

Then it happened. The bowl tipped, soup splashing down into my lap. I gasped dramatically, pushing back from the table.

“Oh my Goddess!”.

It wasn't even hot but I cried anyway, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Vivian!” Father growled.

“It wasn't even hit!” She defended, clearly panicking.

Her mother rushed to her defense, but Howard's voice cut through like a whip. “If Stephanie is hurt, who will write our musical notes for Dante's performance?”

Jack stood abruptly, crossing to Vivian likes one idiotic knight. He held her, shielding her with his body.

“You all shouldn't blame Vivian. The bowl slipped from her grip.” he whispered to her.

I stared, heart thudding. Even father looked stunned.

“What the hell are you two doing?!” Father barked.

They soeang apart like guilty lovers.

Father turned to my maids. “Lily, Anna, take care of Stephanie.” Then he pointed at Vivian. “Your allowance is cut off until further notice.”

Vivian ran after him, tears and designer perfume trailing behind her.

Later, I stepped into my room and stripped out of the stained gown. I sank into the drawn bathtub, letting the water wash over my skin. I wasn't hurt. Not even close.

“Get out!” A familiar snapped at the maids.

They scurried away, and Jack entered like he owned the place. He walked up to the tub where I stood, dripping wet. He didn't even blink.

“You want to join me?” I asked, scooping water to wash my face.

“No,” he said.

I'm glad he declined the offer. I couldn't entertain the thought of sharing a bath with him.

I reached out to squeeze water from my hair my hair. “Why are you here?”

He smirked, stepping closer. “How could you do that to Vivian?”

I stepped out of the tub fully. “Do what to Vivian?”

“Embarrass her. The soup wasn't even hot. You think I didn't see you were pretending?!” He barked this time.

I stepped up fully and his jaws dropped as he stared at the fake red marks on my lap.

“Your… your lap…. Who … who did that to you?” He asked, startled.

“Your future sister-in-law.” I brushed past him like he was nothing but steam.

“You'll need healing balms,” he called after me.

“No need,” I said, slipping to my robe. “I'm going to bed.”

He hesitated. Then helft.

The moment the door licked shut, I wiped off the last bit of soap on my leg and smirked.

This is just the beginning.