The Beginning Of It

The Beginning Of It
Diane's POV

At Lance's Mansion.

The living room felt different when I walked in. Maybe it was because I had not stepped foot in the main mansion since Victoria sent me away. Or maybe it was because of the strange mix of pride and bitterness I felt in my chest. I never expected to feel anything when I moved to the other house. I told myself it was better. It was quieter. It gave me space. But now that I was standing here again, I felt something I did not plan to feel.

I dropped my bag gently on the single couch near the center table. The air conditioner hummed softly. The place smelled of pine and fresh polish, the usual smell the staff maintained. Everything was neat, calm and expensive, the kind of environment that was supposed to match Lance and Victoria, not someone like me.

I sat down and opened my laptop. Lance had texted me earlier, telling me to come straight to the main mansion so we could begin the structure for the Ward Initiative. That’s the name I gave the new fake company we were creating. Our trap for Mike.

I started going through a few files while waiting for Lance. My mind tried to drift, but I forced it to stay focused. I reminded myself of everything I wanted to do. I reminded myself of the pain. I reminded myself of the insults, the betrayal, the humiliation from Mike and Amanda. The nights I cried. The days I felt worthless.

This revenge was not for fun. It was not just to prove a point. It was to take back everything they stole from me.

I heard footsteps and looked up.

Lance walked into the living room with that same serious face he carried everywhere. He looked tired but still controlled. Always controlled.

He stopped a few steps away from me.

“You came early,” he said. His voice was calm.

“I thought we should start on time,” I replied.

He nodded once and came closer. I tried to act normal, but I still noticed things I should not notice. The way his eyes moved around the room before settling on me. The way his jaw tightened whenever he was trying to hide something. The way his fingers tapped lightly when he was thinking.

He sat beside me, not too close but not far either. The couch dipped under his weight and I felt the small shift. I looked at my laptop, pretending not to feel anything.

“Show me what you have so far,” he said.

I turned the laptop toward him. He leaned slightly forward, and his arm brushed mine. It was small, very small, but my heart still reacted. I ignored it.

He went through the documents slowly. His eyes narrowed in thought. He clicked from one tab to another.

“You already created the concept,” he said.

“Yes. I started working on it last night.”

He turned to look at me. “You did not sleep?”

“I slept. Later.”

He studied me for a few seconds. He was trying to read me again. He always tried lately. Maybe he thought I was pretending. Maybe he expected me to complain about staying in the other house. Maybe he expected some emotional reaction from me.

But I had nothing to give.

I kept my expression straight.

“So how do we get Mike in without making him suspicious?” he asked.

“I already checked his company pattern. They invest in new wine related ideas when the concept looks fresh and promising. If we pitch this as a research based production upgrade, he will take the bait. All we need is to create something he thinks he can control.”

“Good,” Lance said. “We will build a team, small enough to hide the real intention but strong enough to make everything look legit.”

He shifted closer, trying to reach the files on the center table. Our hands touched when we both stretched toward the same folder. Just a brush, skin against skin, but my body reacted faster than my brain.

I pulled my hand back slowly, hoping he did not notice.

But he noticed.

He looked at me with a calm expression that did not match the sharp awareness in his eyes.

“You are avoiding me,” he said quietly.

“I am not avoiding you,” I replied.

“You are.”

I shut my laptop gently. “Lance, we came here to work. You asked me to come here for this.”

“I know,” he said. “But I am not blind.”

“Then maybe you should act like you cannot see anything,” I said before I could stop myself.

His jaw tightened. He turned slightly and faced me fully now.

“So that is how you want it,” he said.

“How else should it be?” I replied. “I stay in the other house. Victoria stays here. You and her are getting married. I am here because of a contract. And right now, I am here because of work. Nothing more.”

He stared at me without blinking. His silence was heavy, like something he was fighting inside himself. Then he took a slow breath.

“If that is how you want it,” he finally said, “then fine.”

I nodded and opened the laptop again.

We continued working. We talked about numbers, names, timelines and strategies. But the tension sat between us like a third person. At some point, I had to lean closer to show him a particular graph. He leaned in too. Our faces were close enough that I could feel his breath on my cheek.

I tried to pretend I did not feel anything. I told myself to focus.

My finger slid down the screen to show him the data point. His hand moved at the same time. Our fingers pressed against each other again. This time, he did not move back. I felt his eyes on me first, then I looked at him.

For a moment, neither of us pulled away.

Then we both heard it.

High heels walking fast.

We pulled apart. I closed the laptop quickly. Lance leaned back and straightened his shirt.

The footsteps reached the entrance of the living room.

Victoria appeared.

Her eyes went straight to me, then to Lance, then back to me again. She folded her arms slowly.

“What is going on here?” she asked.

I kept my face calm. “We are working.”

“In this house?” she asked. Her voice was already rising. “In this living room?”

Lance stood up.

“Victoria, calm down.”

“Do not tell me to calm down,” she snapped. “I told her to stay in the other house. Why is she here? Why is she sitting close to you? Why are you both touching the same laptop? Why are you both acting like this place is for the two of you?”

I closed my eyes for a short second, standing up slowly.

“Lance asked me to come,” I said. “We needed to do some work. That is all.”

Victoria looked at Lance sharply. “You asked her to come here when I told her to stay away from this house?”

Lance kept his voice steady. “This is work. Diane and I need to handle this project. It is important.”

“Then why can you not handle it somewhere else?” she asked. “Why here? Why this house? Why this space that belongs to you and me?”

“Victoria,” Lance said again, “you are taking this too far.”

“I am not,” she said firmly. “I am trying to understand why you are making excuses for her.”

“I am not making excuses,” he said. “I am telling you the truth.”

She turned to me again. “Leave.”

I picked my laptop. I wished I could fight back but then I had no right to that. After all, I was just a contracted wife and none of the things Icurrently have even belonged to me. Thus, I wanted no trouble as I started to walk away.

But Lance stepped forward.

“Diane is not leaving,” he said.

Victoria froze.

“What?” she asked quietly.

“Diane is working with me,” he said. “If she leaves, the work stops. You cannot expect me to pause something this important because you do not like seeing her.”

Victoria’s face changed slowly. Anger, confusion, disbelief all mixed together.

“So you are taking her side,” she said.

“No,” he replied. “I am handling my work.”

She stared at him for a long time, then shook her head.

“Fine,” she said. “Do whatever you want.”

She turned and walked away, her heels hitting the floor louder than before. 

Lance stayed where he was, looking at the stairs for a moment. Then he turned to me.

“Sit,” he said.

I hesitated.

“Sit, Diane,” he repeated.

I sat carefully. He sat too, but not as close as before.

“Ignore her,” he said. His voice was calmer now. “Just focus on the work.”

I nodded.

But while we went back to the files, I could feel his eyes on me from time to time. And I could feel something shift again in the room. Something we were both pretending not to feel.

The revenge on Mike had started.

And the distance he wanted was already breaking.