Vivian's Table Novels & Stories

Platters of venison, roasted meat, salmon, tomato peas and rice, pastries for dessert filled the table. As they delved in, they began to converse, and laughed over silly stuffs Zing said, despite the fact that Grey and Maya's heart were heavy with thoughts about the apocalypse. Every moment they spent, brought them closer to the apocalypse. Just then, Vivian walked in, joining them at the table. Silence immediately fell and she stared at them. "Keep talking, you all. Pretend like I am not even here," she said to them as she sliced a piece of meat and forked it into her mouth. "I will not disrupt you all," she added, after she finished chewing the food In her mouth.

But you were adopted, that’s the difference. I hissed then went in. The table was a celebrity style crystal goblets, golden cutlery, enough food to feed an army. Such luxury. I sat across from Vivian, who looked like she’d just won the Miss Manipulative USA award. Their mother shot me side-eye every time I reached for salt. “Why didn’t you bring Damian along?” she asked. Vivian snorts. “Damian wouldn’t even glance at her twice. That’s why she’s pulling all this trick.”

Alexander was either in his toilet or appeared to have departed already. I went over to the table and set the dish down. Vivian approached the table to take a seat. Her heart was racing, and her hands were trembling. "Are you okay?" Narrowing my eyes at her, I asked. Her head shook a little. She mustered a smile and said, "I am okay."

Lydia looked around pretending she can’t see Rowan. Vivian laughed at the scene and stepped into a lovely house, everything was beautiful, the floor was wooden and giving a Chinese aesthetic. Two leather couches occupied the living room facing a huge flat screen TV. Behind the couch is a small bar room filled with varieties of expensive drinks. “Please sit.” Lydia said, pulling Vivian to sit beside her. “Hello Betty.” Rowan greeted. “Welcome home, young master and young mistress.” Betty bowed slightly. “Hi ma’am.” Vivian greeted innocently, not knowing who she was.

Unless he didn't want to see Monique again. Levi said exasperatedly, "I just want to see her. If there's any misunderstanding, we can talk it out. Are you guys enjoying yourself by toying with me?" "Toying with you? We don't have the guts." Vivian turned around and went to the kitchen. When she came out, she placed two plates of fish and chips on the table. "It's time for lunch. Please sit down and have lunch with me. After lunch, she may be home!"

Facing him, I nodded, "Let's sit down." I followed Giovanni to the large table and settled into a plush golden chair. My attention was drawn to one thing alone, and I hoped it wouldn't come up—Vivian. Throughout the meal, she maintained a subtle smirk that perplexed me. Every time I glanced up, her eyes were fixed on me, a smile of pure amusement playing on her lips. "So, Giovanni, I must say, you're quite fortunate to have such a beautiful companion," Vivian blurted out.

The Blackwood Mansion — Early Evening The mansion buzzed with quiet activity. Vivian moved briskly around the grand dining room, making sure every detail was perfect the flowers centered, the candles lit, and the cutlery perfectly straight. “Maria!” she called to one of the maids. “Please, change those napkins. The cream ones, not the white. And make sure the roast stays warm until they arrive.” “Yes, ma’am,” Maria replied, hurrying off. Vivian stepped back, eyeing the table critically. “Good. Now, the wine where’s the wine?”

A terrible coincidence? Alexander approached the table, his stride unhurried, regal. “Lady Vivian,” he acknowledged, his voice deep and resonant, perfectly polite but devoid of any inflection that could be mistaken for warmth. “I was informed of your… accident. I trust you are recovering?” His blue eyes held hers, searching. For what? Signs of the scheming harpy? Or cracks in her amnesiac facade?

You'd never be able to pay for the damage even if you sold all you had! My hands scraped and started to bleed from the rough ground. I could not help but gaze at Jasmine. She sauntered over, all grace and disdain. She spoke up, as if she was doing me a favor, "You want a closer look? Go ahead, crawl in." I grabbed two sticks to prop myself up and followed her inside. My eyes swept over the antique paintings and luxurious furniture that should have been mine. There were remnants of a lobster feast on the table. It brought back memories of scrimping to help my brothers, surviving on a single bun a day, quenching hunger with gulps of water.

"...simply divine, Margaret. You must give me the name of your decorator." Vivian's voice. Bright. Cheerful. As if she belonged here. I stepped into the doorway, and the conversation came to a halt. They were all there. Margaret was there at the head of the table, regal as a queen. Adrian was to her right, in his work clothes, tie loosened. Vivian was to her left, wearing a cream-colored gown that probably was worth more than my car. And at the other end, sitting in a little chair, was a little girl with dark curls and Adrian's eyes—in the process of coloring a book.