When Nick led Alice into the room, a wave of hushed whispers followed them. Conversations died down as guests took her in. She wore a simple, elegant navy dress that highlighted her natural grace, making her stand out against the sea of over-the-top fashion. Her hair was modest, and her slight hesitation gave her an air of mystery. “Everything is fine,” Nick whispered in her ear. “Just smile. I’ll handle the rest.”
She forced a smile, feeling the weight of dozens of judgmental eyes. It felt like a jury had already decided she didn’t belong. Among the crowd, Tiffany Smith was impossible to miss. Her bright red dress was a loud claim to center stage. When their eyes met, Tiffany wore a smirk that promised trouble.
“Nick, what a surprise!” Tiffany approached them, swirling a glass of champagne. Her voice was dripping with fake sweetness. “It’s so good to see you… branching out.” “Tiffany,” Nick said coldly. “You haven’t changed a bit.” She laughed, ignoring the jab. “And is this the new bride?” she asked, looking Alice up and down with blatant condescension. “A very… earthy choice.”
Alice felt her face flush, but Nick stepped in immediately. “Alice represents everything I value: honesty, loyalty, and genuine beauty,” he said, the words hitting Tiffany’s ego like a physical blow. Tiffany’s smile faltered, but her eyes flashed with anger. As the night went on, Alice tried to stay in the shadows, but guests kept cornering her with backhanded questions.
“So, is it true you were the gardener?” one woman asked with a forced, aristocratic accent. “Yes,” Alice replied calmly, squaring her shoulders. “It’s honest work, and I’m proud of it.” The bluntness caught the woman off guard, and she quickly excused herself. Alice noticed that her straightforwardness was actually earning her a strange kind of respect from some of the older, more established guests.
Nick watched his “wife” from across the room. He had expected her to stumble or be overwhelmed. Instead, he saw a woman maintaining her dignity in a room full of sharks. It stirred a feeling in him he couldn’t quite name. She was becoming more than just an actress in his play. The tension peaked when Tiffany cornered Nick again near the balcony.
“Do you have a minute?” she purred, pulling him away from the crowd. Once they were alone, the mask dropped. “Are you serious? You’ve lowered yourself to the help just to get back at me?” “This is my life, Tiffany,” Nick said evenly. “Don’t make me laugh!” she snapped. “You know this charade won’t last. She’s not one of us, and you know it.”
Nick leaned in, his eyes narrowing. “What bothers you more: that I’ve moved on, or that your games don’t work on me anymore?” Tiffany’s voice shook with rage. “Pretend all you want, but I’m the only one who knows the real you.” “You’re wrong,” he said. “We’re done here.” Returning to the ballroom, he found Alice by the buffet. She looked exhausted, but there was a look in her eyes that made him stop in his tracks.
“You okay?” he asked, softening his tone. “Hanging in there,” she said with a tired smile. Nick wanted to say something encouraging, but the words felt stuck. In that moment, he realized Alice was much stronger than he’d given her credit for, and the thought both unsettled and intrigued him. The party was ending, but the battle lines were drawn. While Alice braced for the long haul, Nick was starting to realize his “perfect plan” had led him into territory where he no longer held all the cards.
Nick’s estate was a masterpiece of modern architecture, but to Alice, it felt like a gilded cage. Every polished hallway and expensive piece of art reminded her she was an outsider. It was her first full day as the “lady of the house,” and the weight of it was suffocating. Breakfast was an awkward affair; the table was spread with food she couldn’t even name.
“Good morning, Mrs. Sullivan,” the housekeeper said, her tone professional but cool. Alice nodded politely, trying to hide her nerves. As she sat down, she noticed the staff exchanging looks. To them, she was still the girl who worked in the dirt, and seeing her at the head of the table was a hard pill to swallow. Nick walked in, already dressed in a sharp charcoal suit.
“I hope you slept well,” he said, not looking up from his coffee. “It was… different,” Alice replied, struggling to find words for the loneliness of the massive house. He just nodded, scrolling through emails on his phone. To him, she was still a line item in a project called “Marriage.” “We have a dinner tonight,” he added. “Business partners. You need to look the part.”
“More guests? Who is it this time?”
Comments are closed.