The air was thick with fog.
Viella saw a figure standing in the shadows, their back turned. They were holding something small, something shiny but before she could see what it was, a hand reached out from the mist.
It was Dante.
He snatched the object away, his eyes locking onto hers with a look of pure hatred. Slowly, he raised a gun. He pressed the cold muzzle against her skin.
"You shouldn't have done this, Viella," he whispered.
The sensation of the metal was so vivid she could feel the chill in her bones.
CLICK.
The sound echoed in the real world. Her eyes flew open, but the sensation didn't go away. Something cold, hard, and metallic was pressed right against the center of her forehead.
"...What the—"
BANG!
The room exploded in sound. A bullet tore through the air, missing her skull by a fraction of an inch and slamming into the silk pillow. White feathers flew everywhere.
She sat up so fast her spine cracked, her lungs gasping for air as her heart hammered against her ribs.
"I KNEW SHE WAS CRAZY, BUT I DIDN'T KNOW SHE WAS THIS CRAZY!" Viella shrieked
Standing beside her, wearing six-inch stilettos, was none other than her older sister, Lady Marcella Vielle.
Gun in one hand. Espresso in the other.
She smiled. "Oh good. You woke up. Lucky girl. Another second and that bullet would've been inside your skull."
Vivien blinked at her. "Good morning to you too, Satan's intern."
Marcella blew on her espresso. "Don't be dramatic. You were sleeping like a corpse. I had to be creative."
"By murdering me?!"
Marcella shrugged. "Character development."
Vivien sighed, rubbing her temples. "Why are you here, gun and all?"
Marcella walked toward the balcony like a Bond villain. "You think you can embarrass the family and we won't drop in for brunch?"
She tossed a newspaper on the bed, headlines glaring up at her.
"Heiress From Hell: Mafia Tycoon's Fiancée Abuses Poor Waitress"
"Will Dante End the Engagement?"
Marcella smirked. "You're trending."
Vivien glared at her then
looked to the sky. "God, please, I haven't even brushed my teeth and I'm already being emotionally shot."
Marcella sipped her coffee. "Just like the old days. You commit social war crimes and we clean up the mess."
"Can you get out of my room before I commit actual crimes?"
---
Freshly showered but not mentally prepared, Vivien looked around to see her parents nearby and took a breath
The scent of freshly baked bread did not comfort her.
She turned to her maid, who trembled
"When did they even get here?" she hissed.
"Th-they arrived at dawn, my lady. Lord said he missed yelling at you in person."
Vivien internally screamed.
"Great. What a Family therapy."
As she entered the lavish breakfast room, three heads turned in her direction.
Her father, sharp-jawed and cold-eyed, sitting at the head of the table like a mafia king. (I mean he is)
Her mother, pristine and elegant, her expression unreadable but can see that shes pissed.
And Marcella, casually sharpening her knife beside the orange juice.
"Done with your beauty sleep, princess?" her father asked, voice oozing sarcasm.
Vivien smiled sweetly. "Oh, I was just dreaming about being disowned. Best sleep of my life."
She sat down cautiously, the tension so thick.
Her father picked up his fork. "We've decided something."
Vivien paused mid-chew. "...Oh no."
"You're inviting Dante for dinner tonight."
She choked on her toast.
"And you will apologize," he added.
"What? Why me?! I didn't even do anything!"
Her mother chimed in lightly, cutting her grapefruit. "And don't forget that sweet little waitress girl. What was her name? Alina, right? The one I met at Dante's estate. Such a humble creature."
Vivien spat her water out across the table.
"YOU WANT ME TO INVITE HER TOO?!"
She stood up, nearly knocking her chair back. "WHY SHOULD I APOLOGIZE?! SHE SPILLED THE DRINK. I GOT PUSHED. I'M THE VICTIM HERE."
BANG!
A bullet hit the edge of the wall behind her. Marble cracked.
Vivien froze. "..."
She turned to see her father calmly reloading his pistol.
"Next time," he said without looking up, "it goes through your skull."
Vivien blinked twice.
"Okay. Definitely Marcella is his daughter. No DNA test needed. Is this why the original villainess kept a gun in her drawer? It's like... a family tradition."
She sat down, robotically, stabbing a piece of melon like it offended her.
Her father folded his newspaper. "You'll apologize. Because Dante still hasn't publicly spoken about last night. We can't risk him breaking things off."
Her mother sighed dramatically. "And you do look quite bloated in those photos. Honestly, do you even watch your salt intake?"
Vivien : "...."
Marcella casually added, "If you screw this up, I call dibs on your walk-in closet."
Vivien groaned and left the room without breakfast losing her appetite
-----------
Later
Vivien threw herself onto her bed and screamed into a pillow.
"How am I even supposed to invite him?" she hissed at the cracked ceiling. "Do I say, 'Hey Dante, come over for dinner, I'm sorry for literally nothing, but please don't kill me'?"
Her voice cracked on the last part. "Why should I apologize? It's not even my fault! I didn't ask to be thrown into this novel this plot I didn't ask to wake up as the villainess. I was just living my boring life, eating ramen, and then bam, here I am. Queen of Disaster."
She spun around and flopped onto the bed, eyes wide and frantic. "Dramatic much? Oh, totally. But if I don't act like this is a tragedy, who will?"
She squeezed the pillow like it was her only friend. "Character growth? More like character death."
Her thoughts spiraled faster.
"And the worst part? The original male lead and female lead they both gonna be here together. According to the plot his obsession must be growing after that party just like the story."
She pressed a palm to her forehead, exhaling sharply. "I'm dead meat. Because if Dante already hates me now, imagine what happens when he's convinced I'm the last thing standing between him and his precious Alina"
"His obsession won't just control me, it'll want to erase me."
Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I didn't ask for this. I didn't ask to wake up as the villainess. This is someone else's story. And I'm stuck playing the villain in it."
She curled up on the bed clutching the pillow. "No matter what I do, all the deadly snakes, Dante, my own family...they'll be in the same room tonight. And I'm the prey."
She blinked back tears that felt less like sadness and more like pure, blazing frustration.
---
She sat up abruptly,
"Okay, okay, think," she muttered, eyes darting around the room . "I can't just lie here like a sad villainess waiting for dinner with my executioner fiancé."
She grabbed her planner and flipped it open. "Step one: survive dinner without becoming Dante's next victim. Easy, right? Right?"
Her fingers drummed impatiently. "No eye contact. No stupid apologies. No spilling wine on himunless it's really on purpose."
She frowned. "But how do you invite someone to dinner without inviting them?
Wait.....What if I just pretend to be sick? And pass out?? My family can't be that heartless right! Hehehehe this might work
---
She stormed down the stairs, putting on her best "I'm totally dying" face. One hand on her forehead, the other clutched dramatically to her chest like she was on her last breath.
Her mother was yelling at two terrified maids about a missing lace napkin. Meanwhile, her sister lounged on the chaise , sipping what had to be her tenth cup of coffee.
Taking a shaky breath, she stepped into the room and whimpered, "Mother... Sister..."
No one looked up.
She tried again, louder this time. "I... I don't feel so well."
Still nothing.
She clutched the wall for dramatic effect, stumbled forward, and with one final gasp whispered, "I... might faint..."
THUD.
She dropped like a melodramatic sack of silk right onto the marble floor, limbs artfully sprawled.
Silence.
Then
Click. Click. Click.
Her sister's high heels clacked across the floor until they stopped right on her back.
"Seriously?" her sister sighed, stepping over her body like she was a rug. "If you're going to fake an illness, at least make it look real. You fell like a dying carrot."
From her face-down position, she croaked, "Dying carrot?"
Her sister kept walking, sipping her coffee like this was just Tuesday.
Then came her mother's voice sharp, unimpressed, and utterly immune to drama. "What is this now? Another episode? Are you possessed? Are you allergic to responsibility?"
She peeked up from the floor. "I'm sick..."
Her mother raised an eyebrow. "You were perfectly healthy this morning."
"I didnt eat so i am passing out mother," she whispered, dramatically rolling onto her side.
Her mother looked her over, arms crossed. "Well, tragic or not, dinner's still happening. And if you try to die before it, I will revive you just to ground you."
The villainess groaned into the floor.
"This family is heartless," she muttered.
From the corner, her sister added with a grin, "Maybe Dante will appreciate your flair for drama. He likes dangerous women, right?"
"I'm not dangerous. I'm desperate," she wailed.
.
.
.
.
TO BE CONTINUED