The Setup

{Vanessa’s POV}

It happened on a night when the mansion was buzzing with guests. Lisa and Lady Sinclair were both in silk gowns, sipping wine, whispering in corners, their eyes flicking toward me more than once. I felt the weight of it, but ignored it, clinging to the fragile happiness Vincent and I had built.

Later that night, Diana pulled me aside. “Be careful, Nessa,” she warned, her brows furrowed. “I don’t like the way they’re watching you.”

I smiled faintly, brushing it off. “I’ll be fine. Vincent won’t let anything happen.”

I was wrong.

I never saw the powder slipped into my drink. Never felt the trap until it was too late. My eyelids grew heavy, the world blurring, my body weakening as I stumbled toward the maids’ quarters.

When I woke, it was to the sound of a roar.

“WHAT IS THIS?!”

My vision cleared enough to see Vincent standing at the doorway, fury etched into every line of his face. I followed his gaze—only to see a man, half-dressed, scrambling off the bed beside me.

“No—no, I don’t—” My words broke as confusion choked me. My head spun. The room smelled of alcohol and sweat, though I had touched neither. “Vincent, I swear, I don’t know what happened—”

The man bolted, his job done, disappearing down the hall.

Vincent’s eyes burned into me, betrayal raw and merciless. “How dare you?” His voice cracked like thunder. “After everything—after I chose you over them—you do this?”

Tears blurred my vision. I stumbled off the bed, reaching for him. “Please, Vincent, I didn’t—someone set me up—”

“Don’t!” he snapped, stepping back as though my touch would poison him. His face twisted in pain and rage. “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

Lady Sinclair appeared in the doorway, Lisa smirking at her side. “You see, Vincent?” Lady Sinclair said smoothly. “This is the kind of girl you defend? A common maid who throws herself at men in her quarters?”

“No! No!” My voice broke as I dropped to my knees, sobbing. “Please, Vincent, you have to believe me! I would never—”

“Enough!” His shout shook me to my bones. His chest rose and fell rapidly, his hands clenched at his sides. For a moment, I thought I saw doubt flicker in his eyes, but anger drowned it out.

“You’re done here,” he spat. “Get out of my sight before I lose what little restraint I have left.”

My knees gave out completely, and I slid to the floor, burying my face in my hands. The tears came fast, unstoppable. My world was unraveling.

Lisa stepped forward, her voice dripping with triumph. “You heard him. Pack your things, maid. You’re finished here.”

Lady Sinclair’s smirk was colder than ice. “You should have known your place, Vanessa. You were never meant to be more than what you are.”

Their words carved into me, but nothing hurt more than Vincent’s silence as he turned away.

I didn’t know how long I sat there, broken, until I felt gentle arms around me.

Diane.

She knelt beside me, holding me tightly as my sobs tore through the air. Her own eyes shone with tears.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “It’s okay, Nessa. I believe you.”

….but her words couldn’t reach the hollow ache inside me. Not when the only man I had ever truly loved had looked at me like I was nothing.

And in that moment, I knew everything had changed.

Forever.

{Two weeks later}

The house was quiet except for the creak of my father’s wheelchair as I moved him closer to the window. His health had grown fragile, but I still tried to keep things normal for him, even though inside, I felt broken

A soft knock came at the door. When I opened it, Diane stood there. She smiled faintly, bowed her head politely, and stepped inside.

“Hello sir,” she greeted my father gently. He nodded back with a tired smile.

Soon after, she followed me into my room. For a moment, she just looked at me—at the shadows under my eyes, at the way I avoided her gaze.

“How have you been faring, Nessa?” she asked quietly.

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I don’t know anymore, Diane.”

She reached into her bag and pulled out a folded flyer. Placing it in my hands, she said, “This is why I came. You have a gift, Vanessa. Don’t bury it because of what they did to you.”

I glanced down. The National Young Chefs’ Contest.

Fear and doubt swirled in me, but Diane’s voice pressed on, steady and sure.

“You’re better than all of this. Compete. Win. Prove to yourself that no one can take your fire.”

I traced the bold letters on the flyer with trembling fingers. For the first time in weeks, a spark flickered in my chest.

Maybe… just maybe… this wasn’t the end.