Chapter 2: The Stale Bread and Cold Tea

Vivienne stood before the grand entrance of the Vance mansion. Rain slammed against the concrete porch, splashing cold water against her ankles. She pressed her thumb to the biometric scanner. The digital screen flashed red. She swiped her electronic security card. The lock beeped three times in sharp refusal.

Do not waste your energy Vivienne, a voice called out from the dark corner of the porch.

Thomas stepped out from the shadow of the massive stone pillars. Two security guards stood directly behind him, their arms crossed tightly over their chests.

Why are the locks changed Thomas? Vivienne asked, her voice dropping into a flat tone. Open the door.

Orders from the master, Thomas said, offering a small, mocking smile. The security protocols for the entire estate have been completely updated.

I am the mistress of this house, Vivienne said, taking a step forward. My credentials should clear any protocol.

Not anymore they do not, Thomas said, adjusting his collar. Miss Cynthia explained to the master that your presence compromises the safety of this family. She recommended a full lock rotation immediately after the restaurant incident. The master agreed with her assessment completely.

My sister does not dictate the security of my home, Vivienne said.

She does tonight, Thomas replied. The master strictly ordered that no one agitate Miss Cynthia while she recovers from her severe panic attack. You are considered an agitation Vivienne. Your presence is a liability.

Move aside Thomas, Vivienne said.

I cannot do that, Thomas said, stepping directly in front of the door. If you want to come inside you can use the rear entrance through the servants quarters. That is the only door your current credentials will open tonight. Take it or sleep in the rain.

Vivienne looked at him for a silent second, then turned on her heel. She walked around the perimeter of the mansion grounds, the freezing rain soaking through her white dress until it clung to her skin like ice. She pushed open the heavy iron door leading into the servants kitchen.

Martha sat at the long wooden table polishing a silver tray. She did not rise when the door opened. She looked up with a cruel sneer on her face.

You are dripping dirty water all over my freshly waxed floor Vivienne, Martha said.

Get me a dry towel Martha, Vivienne said.

Martha let out a loud, mocking laugh. She tossed her polishing cloth onto the silver tray and walked slowly toward the counter. She picked up a chipped ceramic plate and threw it onto the wooden table. On it sat a hard piece of stale bread and a cup of lukewarm, murky tea.

The main kitchen is locked for the night, Martha said, crossing her arms. Miss Cynthia needs absolute quiet for her recovery soup preparation. This is all you get tonight. Stale bread and cold tea.

Is this how you treat the woman who pays your salary Martha? Vivienne asked.

The master pays my salary, Martha snapped, leaning across the table. And Miss Cynthia is the one who runs the household budget now. She specifically said you should stay out of the main villa entirely. She said you are nothing but bad luck to this household.

You have forgotten your place in this house Martha, Vivienne said.

My place is perfectly secure because I serve the rightful mistress, Martha scoffed. Look at you. You look like a wet dog. Miss Cynthia belongs in the master bedroom. You belong out here with the scraps. Eat your stale bread and go sleep in the maid quarters if you do not like the temperature.

Vivienne looked down at the plate. She reached out and gripped the handle of the ceramic cup. With a swift, fluid motion, she hurled the cold tea directly into Marthas face.

Martha shrieked loudly, stumbling backward into the kitchen counter as the brown liquid drenched her hair and blouse. You crazy bitch! You threw tea at me!

Vivienne slammed the empty cup onto the table, shattering the base into pieces. Clean your face Martha. If you ever speak to me in that tone again I will ensure you leave this estate in handcuffs. Move out of my way.

Martha whimpered, wiping her eyes with her sleeve and stepping back in genuine terror. Vivienne walked past her, pushing open the double doors that led into the main villa.

She walked up the grand spiral staircase, her wet shoes leaving dark, damp marks on the pristine white carpet. She reached the upper landing and walked toward the bedroom wing. She stopped outside Mayas room when she noticed light spilling from the cracked door.

Is it beautiful Mommy Cynthia? Mayas voice asked from inside.

Vivienne looked through the narrow opening. Cynthia was sitting on the edge of the bed wearing a plush silk robe, looking completely vibrant and healthy. Maya was handing her a pink cardboard card covered in clumsy glitter drawings.

It is absolutely perfect Maya, Cynthia said, kissing the little girls forehead. What does it say?

It says Happy Mothers Day to my favorite mommy, Maya said proudly, hugging Cynthias neck. I know the holiday is not today but I wanted to give it to you now. You are the only real mommy who isnt ugly and tired.

Cynthia chuckled softly, stroking Mayas hair while glancing toward the door with a subtle, triumphant smirk. You are such a sweet girl Maya. You know your mother just does not have the capacity to care for you like I do. She is a very cold woman.

She is bad, Maya said, her small face hardening. She let that scary man with the gun come close to us. She did not even try to protect you. I wish she never came back from the restaurant tonight.

Do not worry darling, Cynthia whispered, squeezing Maya tight. Julian and I will protect you from now on. You do not have to worry about her much longer.

Are you enjoying the show Vivienne?

Julians voice boomed from the darkness behind her.

Vivienne turned around slowly. Julian stood in the center of the hallway, his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes narrowed to slits as he looked at her dripping dress and the small cut on her cheek.

You are standing in the dark like a predator Julian, Vivienne said.

I am standing in my own home, Julian hissed, stepping closer until he completely blocked the path to the stairs. Unlike you who is lurking outside our daughters room like a thief. Are you trying to guilt trip a six year old child because she finally sees you for what you truly are?

She is my daughter Julian, Vivienne said. And she is giving my sister a Mothers Day card in my house.

Because Cynthia earns that card every single day, Julian said, his voice rising in anger. Cynthia spent the entire evening crying in fear because of your terrible choices. You picked that restaurant. You brought that danger upon this family.

A gunman walked into that room and shot at me Julian, Vivienne said, her voice remaining deadly calm. You threw your body over Cynthia and left me completely exposed to the barrel. The bullet missed my face by inches.

And yet you stand here perfectly fine, Julian shouted, gesturing wildly at her. Cynthia has a delicate heart condition. The shock alone could have killed her tonight. You are strong and stubborn Vivienne, you can handle a threat. Cynthia cannot. You are incredibly selfish to demand my attention when she was the one in true medical danger.

I am your wife of seven years, Vivienne said. You left me to die.

Stop playing the victim Vivienne, Julian sneered, stepping into her personal space. It is pathetic. You did not get hit. You do not have a single serious scratch on you. You are just using this terrifying incident to create domestic drama because you are jealous of the bond Cynthia has built with Maya and me.

You changed the locks on the front door of my home, Vivienne said.

I changed them to protect my real family from your toxic presence, Julian said. You brought a shooter to our dinner table. Until my security team finds out who that man was you are a major security risk to this estate. I will not allow you to endanger Cynthia or Maya anymore.

Julian reached into his inner jacket pocket and pulled out a thick legal envelope. He did not hand it to her. He slapped the heavy packet hard against her chest, letting the papers fall to the wet carpet at her feet.

What is this Julian? Vivienne asked, looking down at the scattered documents. Are you finally giving me the divorce papers?

Julian burst into a loud, mocking laugh that echoed through the empty hallway. Divorce? You think I am going to let you walk away that easily Vivienne? Pick them up and look at them.

Vivienne crouched down, her wet fingers gripping the damp edges of the papers. She flipped through the pages under the dim hallway light, her eyes scanning the technical text.

This is a legal asset transfer, Vivienne said, her voice dropping into a dangerously low register.

Exactly, Julian said, a look of pure malice crossing his face. You are going to sign over every single remaining share you hold in the Vane family trust. Every single cent will be transferred by tomorrow morning.

The Vane trust belongs to my bloodline, Vivienne said, standing up straight and looking directly into his eyes. It was passed down to me by my grandfather. You have absolutely no legal right to touch it.

I have every right, Julian said, stepping forward until his face was inches from hers. Cynthias medical evaluation is going to cost millions of dollars. Her psychological therapy for the severe trauma you caused tonight will take years to resolve. The Vane trust will fund her entire recovery. You will yield those shares to Cynthia tomorrow morning or I will make your life a living hell.

And if I refuse to sign this trash? Vivienne asked.

If you refuse to sign I will strip you of custody of Maya permanently, Julian threatened, his voice a dark whisper. I will file formal charges against you for reckless endangerment. I will ensure the entire city knows you left your child and your sister to face a gunman while you saved your own skin. I will ruin your name until you have absolutely nothing left to your name. Sign the transfer papers Vivienne. You have until sunrise.

Julian turned around, grabbed the handle of Mayas bedroom door, and walked inside, slamming it shut firmly behind him. The click of the internal lock echoed like a gunshot.

Vivienne stood alone in the dark, cold hallway, her fingers tightly gripping the wet transfer documents as the water from her hair continued to drip onto the floor.