A PLAN TO RUIN IT ALL

Mia's POV

"I guessed." Maggie picked up the card again and waved it at me. "I saw the flowers and the weird message and put two and two together. I'm not stupid, Mia."

I sagged against the counter, relieved she hadn't actually figured out the whole marriage proposal thing. "Okay, yeah. We've talked a few times. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" She set the card down and gave me that look, the one that said she didn't believe me for a second. "The guy is Chris's father. That makes it a pretty big deal."

"Can we not do this right now?" I rubbed my face with both hands. "I'm tired and I haven't even had breakfast yet."

Maggie studied me for another moment, then her stare softened just a little. "Fine. But you're being careful, right? You're not doing anything stupid?"

"I'm always careful."

"That's not even close to true but okay." She grabbed her purse off the table. "Oh, before I forget, did you see Chris is racing next weekend? The big one in Austin. It's all over the sports channels."

My stomach did this uncomfortable flip. "No, I didn't know."

"Everyone's saying he's going to win again. Fourth time in a row or something." She scrolled through her phone and showed me a photo of Chris on some magazine cover, all perfect smile and sponsor logos. "He looks good though. Happy."

I stared intently at the photo, and it was as if a heavy wall had risen around my emotions, leaving me in a state of complete numbness.

Or perhaps it was the opposite; I felt so much that my mind abruptly flicked a switch, choosing self-preservation over the chaotic storm threatening to erupt within me.

“Good for him,” I thought, my voice echoing flatly in my head, devoid of any real sentiment.

At that moment, Maggie shifted her gaze to me with a look that pierced through my facade.

"You okay?" she asked, her voice tinged with worry, as if she could sense the turmoil roiling beneath my still surface.

"I'm fine. Really," I insisted, my tone slightly defensive as I pushed away from the countertop, a small effort to steer the conversation toward lighter topics.

I guided her toward the door, my heart racing a little faster than I liked to admit. “Thanks for checking on me. And for the cookies you forgot in your car,” I added, trying to conjure a smile.

Her laughter rang out. “Oh shit, the cookies!” She rolled her eyes and swung the door open with a flourish. “I’ll definitely bring them next time. But listen, call me if you need anything, okay? And Mia? Be careful with Tom. I mean it.” The seriousness in her voice registered a note of finality, wrapping around my mind.

"I will," I replied, managing a half-hearted reassurance, even though the word felt hollow on my tongue.

Maggie gave me one last scrutinizing look, one that seemed to peek through my carefully curated walls, then stepped out into the hallway. 

I closed the door with a soft click behind her, leaning against it for a moment and releasing a long, weary breath, as if expelling the heaviness of the day.

***

Less than two minutes passed before the unmistakable sound of knocking reverberated through my apartment, shattering the stillness. 

I froze like a deer caught in headlights.

Maggie wouldn’t knock; she would have just sent a quick text if she forgot something. This ominous knock heralded someone else entirely—

Peering through the peephole confirmed my suspicion, and there he was. 

Tom… standing in the hallway with his hands casually stuffed in the pockets of his jacket, an air of nonchalance radiating from him, as though he hadn’t just bombarded me with flowers and a deeply unsettling note just that very morning.

I swung the door open. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you stalking me again?"

“I was coming to see you, but I noticed your sister leaving, so I thought it would be polite to wait down the block for a moment.” He offered a casual glance past me, assessing the interior of my apartment.

“How did you know my sister?” I asked as it is already getting weird.

Tom stared at me for a few seconds. “I just guessed.” He replied. “Can I come in or are we doing this out here?”

I took a long look at him then I stepped back, surrendering my space, and he strode inside.

His gaze immediately drew to the flowers on the table, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. 

“You kept them,” he remarked, a hint of surprise lacing his voice.

I folded my arms across my chest as frustration crept into my tone. “I didn’t have time to throw them out yet.” I closed the door behind him. “What exactly do you want, Tom?” I asked, even though I felt the truth linger just beneath the surface.

He pivoted to face me, the playful expression fading from his face, replaced by an unsettling seriousness. "Have you thought about it? About marrying me?" 

I had indeed thought it over—

Thought about it almost incessantly since last night, since Isabel had made her pointed call and twisted the knife deeper into my heart. I lay awake in bed, running through the possibilities, envisioning the moment I would walk down the aisle on Tom's arm, all too aware of the ramifications it would have for Chris — a seismic shift that would tilt his entire world on its axis.

But there was no way I would simply acquiesce and allow Tom to dictate our future.

If I was going to tread this path, to marry Chris’s father and set forth a chain of events that would irrevocably alter the lives of everyone involved, especially my own, it would be done according to my design.

“I’ve thought about it,” I said slowly, measuring the weight of each word. 

Tom's eyes honed in on me, his body going rigid as if he were balancing on a precarious edge, seemingly afraid to disturb the tenuous moment.

“And?” he pressed.

“I accept, but everything has to follow my plan,” I stated.

He blinked and watched as his surprise was evident on his face. “Your plan.”

“Yes. My plan,” I reiterated, as I crossed my arms defiantly and held his gaze without flinching. “If we’re doing this, it’s going to be my way, not yours.”

For a fleeting moment, I expected him to dispute me, to remind me of how he held the reins with his wealth and authoritative presence, and that he was the one who would ultimately make the choices. 

But instead, he tilted his head, observing me as if he was crossing into uncharted territory — a territory he hadn’t encountered before. 

“Alright,” he finally conceded. “What’s your plan?”

My plan…

Just the mere thought of it sent a surge of darkness and satisfaction coursing through my veins.

I could envision it perfectly — the sweet unraveling of it all, each detail slotting into place with precision, just as I had imagined.

I could already picture Chris’s face with a mask of shock and disbelief, the moment he understood what I had orchestrated.

Isabel choking back her perfect vision of a wedding, the media buzzing like bees around honey, devouring every scandalous detail.

A smile crept across my face before I could reign it in — It was chilling and devoid of any warmth or joy.

“You’ll find out soon,” I said, the words slipping from my lips.