(5) Sinful Replica

The velvet curtains of the Grand Muse Hotel’s penthouse suite were drawn tight, blocking out the glittering lights of the city below. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the faint tang of anxiety.

Violet stood before the full-length mirror, her reflection a vision in midnight blue silk. Two years of relentless work, of carefully curated images and strategic networking, had culminated in this moment. She was no longer the overlooked assistant; she was a nominee. A contender for that prize she had been longing for.

From the chaise lounge, Samuel, her manager and partner, watched her with a possessive glint in his eye. “You look breathtaking, Vi. A shoo-in.”

A small, satisfied smile played on her lips. “We’ve worked hard for this.”

A light knock on the suite’s door was followed by the hesitant entrance of a small, golden-haired boy. Baron, now seven, clutched a tablet in his hands, his eyes wide with a mixture of excitement and vigilance.

“Dad? Can I come? I promise I’ll be quiet. I just want to see you get your award on the big screen.”

Violet’s smile vanished, replaced by a flash of irritation. Before Samuel could answer, she cut in, her voice smooth.

“No, Baron. It’s a very adult event. There will be cameras everywhere, and… well, we can’t have any distractions, can we? It’s mommy's first big night. Let’s not risk any… embarrassment.”

The boy’s face crumpled. The unspoken words hung in the air: embarrassment.

He was the reminder of Samuel’s past, the inconvenient remnant of Charity’s life that Violet had to tolerate. He saw the dismissal in her eyes, the subtle way she dismissed him as a threat to her carefully constructed image.

“You will never be my mom!” he shouted, his voice cracking with a hurt that was raw and primal. He glared at Violet, his eyes full of a hatred that was startling for a child his age.

Samuel started forward, a frown on his face. “Baron, that’s enough!”

But Violet, with a hidden shrug that only Baron could see, placed a soft hand on Samuel’s arm.

“It’s okay, Sam. He’s just a child. He’s upset. I understand.” She turned her gaze back to the boy, her voice exuding with false sympathy that only Samuel could miss. “It’s alright, Baron. You just go back to your room and watch a movie. We’ll be back before you know it.”

The fake kindness in her tone was more harsher than any cruelty. Baron bit his lip and left the door slamming shut behind him.

The lone boy stood on the other side of the room, listening to their conversation. He glanced at the screen on his tablet where tabloids of his mother's death are present.

"I'll find every way to prove you ruined our family." Baron whispered with intent one cannot find from boys his age.

“He’s getting more difficult,” Samuel sighed, shaking his head.

“He’s just adjusting,” Violet cooed, stepping into his embrace. She ran a manicured hand down his lapel. “It’s you and me now, remember? We don’t need anyone else.”

Her lips found his, a kiss that was both a reassurance and a claim. Flirting was a weapon, and she wielded it expertly, steering his attention away from his son and back onto her.

Baron was not hers in the first place. Charity, the one who roused her vile emotions, is the one responsible for the boy. It's none of Violet's business aside from putting up for appearances.

“Now, let’s go make history.”

The ballroom was a sea of designer gowns and flashing cameras. Violet basked in the attention, her smile fixed in place. But as the pressure of the night began to mount, nerves gripped her.

"Sammy, I just need some little time to freshen up, alright?" She excused herself from Samuel’s side.

The marble-lined restroom was a haven of quiet. She leaned over the sink, taking a deep breath. Her reflection stared back at her: perfectly applied makeup, dark wavy hair, and the sharp, hazel eyes that had been overlooked for so many years.

Not anymore.

She pushed open the door to leave and collided with someone.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she began, her voice catching in her throat as she looked up.

Blonde hair, pulled back in a sleek chignon. Blue eyes, clear and familiar, flashing with a nameless emotion. A slim, pretty face. Perfect, porcelain skin.

Violet’s heart plummeted into her stomach, dread washing over her. Her blood ran to ice. It couldn't be. It was impossible. This was the face of a ghost. This was the person they had buried, the person she had helped Samuel kill.

“Charity?” The name escaped her lips in a horrified whisper.

The woman gave her a blank, almost curious look, as if she was a stranger. Without a word, she turned and walked away, her heels clicking a sharp, rhythmic beat on the marble floor that echoed in Violet’s ears like a death knell.

Her hands shaking, Violet fumbled for her phone and dialed Samuel.

“Sam? I… I saw her. I saw Charity.”

A pause was evident on the other end. Then, Samuel’s calm voice answered. “Violet, honey. Who?”

“Charity! I just saw her! In the restroom.”

“Sweetheart, she’s been dead for two years,” he said slowly, his tone now gentle type one uses for a hysterical child. “You’re just having a little anxiety. It’s a big night.”

“I know what I saw!” she insisted, her voice rising.

“It’s a big event. There are a lot of people here who could look like her. You’re nervous, Vi. Come on. Relax. You should feel happy and not scared. We worked hard to get you this far. Everything we’ve done was for this. Don't let your mind play tricks on you now.”

“Yes,” she finally conceded, taking a deep, steadying breath. “You’re right. I’ll hurry to the venue.”

She ended the call and stared at her reflection in the mirror. A forced smile stretched her lips. Her beauty was undeniable. She had taken everything Charity had, and she would not let a ghost, real or imagined; take it back.

---

“And the winner for Best Actress is… Violet Collins!”

The ovation was thunderous. She walked to the stage, her smile triumphant. This was her moment. The validation she had craved. As she accepted the golden statue and delivered her carefully rehearsed speech, her eyes scanned the crowd, landing on Samuel, who beamed with pride. He looked like a man who had won a prize, and in a way, he had.

"Thank you. Thank you so much." Violet started.

"You know, I spent years standing in the shadows. Waiting. Being told I wasn't enough, that I didn't have it, whatever it was supposed to be. But tonight... tonight proves that patience pays off. That if you work hard enough, if you believe in yourself when no one else will, you can take what's rightfully yours."

"I want to thank Samuel, my partner, my rock, the man who saw my potential when the rest of the world was blind. Without you, I wouldn't be standing here."

She smiled sweetly as everyone applauded and jeered on Samuel who is as happy as her. Everyone is celebrating with them. And she just wished Charity could see this.

This is the world and reality without Charity. It was the world of Violet!

"To everyone who ever doubted me: look closely. This is what determination looks like. This is what happens when you refuse to fade into the background."

"And to the other nominees, you're all brilliant. Truly. But some of us have waited a very long time for our moment. And now that it's here... I intend to enjoy every single second of it. Thank you. Goodnight."

She made her way back to their reserved table, the award a cold, heavy weight in her hands. Pia, a fellow actress and one of the few people Violet considered a friend, was already waiting. Samuel sat beside her, looking smug.

“Congratulations, Vi!” Pia exclaimed, hugging her. “It’s your night!”

As Violet sat down, Pia leaned in, ready for a stirring rumor. “But did you see that new girl? Vivianne Goldthorne? She’s only been in the industry for a year and she’s already raking in awards tonight. I heard she won Best Newcomer and Best Supporting Actress.”

Violet waved a dismissive hand. “Maybe just a fresh girl starting her career on rich old men's lap.”

Pia chuckled at the remark, and so did Violet. She still hasn't moved on from the victory tonight. But it was short-lived..

But as she kept her grin, the announcer’s voice boomed over the speakers once more. “And now, presenting the award for Best Newcomer, please welcome tonight’s breakout star… Vivianne Goldthorne!”

The spotlight swung to a table near the stage, and a figure rose from her seat. Her back was facing them but Violet and Samuel can't be any more familiar with that figure. She suddenly faced the cameras, just the direction where the atrocious couple are.

A woman with a cascade of familiar blonde hair, a serene smile, and startlingly blue eyes.

Violet’s blood ran cold. Samuel, who had been calmly sipping his champagne, choked, the liquid spraying from his lips. His face drained of all color, and he looked at Violet, his eyes wide with naked terror.

It wasn't a look-alike. It wasn't a trick of the light. Vivianne Goldthorne was the spitting image of Charity Redwood. Every feature, every gesture, was an exact replica.