The Beginning Of It

The Beginning Of It
Lance’s POV

At Lance’s Mansion

I stood from the couch.

“I will be back,” I said, not waiting for Diane to respond.

I did not want to look at her face. Not now. I could still feel the tension between us in the air, quiet but heavy. I walked out of the living room and headed for the stairs. My steps were faster than usual because I already knew what I would meet upstairs. Victoria was never the type to let anger rest quietly.

Halfway up the staircase, I heard the first sound. Something hit the wall. Then another. By the time I reached the door of my room, the noise was louder.

I pushed the door open.

Victoria was in the middle of the room. A vase was already on the floor. One of her heels had been flung to a corner. She was breathing fast and turning sharply when she heard me enter.

“So you came,” she said. Her voice shook but her anger was still there, obvious in her tone.

I shut the door behind me.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“What am I doing?” She let out a small laugh that did not have any humor. “You are asking me what I am doing when you were downstairs with her like the two of you own this house?”

“We were working,” I said.

Victoria picked up a pillow from the bed and threw it. It hit the wardrobe.

“Working,” she repeated. “Right. Working in the living room, sitting close to her, touching her laptop, whispering to each other. Lance, I am not stupid.”

I walked closer and stopped in front of her.

“You know what that was,” I said. “You know what Diane is to me. A contract. Nothing more.”

Victoria’s eyes reddened. “So why is she here? Why are you defending her? Why did you tell me not to send her out?”

“Because it is work,” I replied. “This project is important. She knows how to run the structure better than anyone. We cannot stop because of your feelings.”

I had to put it that way. She mustn’t know about the revenge. 

“My feelings,” she said quietly. “So that is what we call it now.”

I rubbed my forehead. I was trying to stay calm, but she kept pushing. “Victoria. Listen. You are my fiancée. You have the ring. When the contract ends, you and I will get married. Nothing is changing that. So why are you acting like someone is taking your place?”

“Because she is everywhere,” Victoria said. “Every time I look around, it feels like she is in some corner of your life.”

“She is not,” I said.

“She is,” she insisted. “You think I did not see the way you stood in front of her downstairs? Or how you spoke to me when I told her to leave? Lance, you have never done that before.”

“She was there for work,” I repeated, forcing the words out slowly.

Victoria shook her head. “For fuck sake, you have other mansions in different locations. She could stay in one of them, in fact. I want her gone. Immediately.”

“No.”

She froze. “What did you say?”

“No,” I said again. “I am not sending her anywhere. If you do not want to understand, then suit yourself.”

Victoria’s mouth fell open a little. “You are choosing her over me.”

“I am not choosing anyone,” I replied. “I am choosing the work I need done. Stop turning this into something else.”

She moved closer to me. “Then tell her to stay away from this house.”

“I cannot do that.”

“Lance.”

“I said no.”

She looked like she wanted to argue more, but I had reached my limit. I stepped back from her, grabbed the door, and pulled it open.

“Lance,” she called again.

I did not answer. I stepped out and shut the door harder than I planned. It was not intentional, but the sound echoed down the hallway.

I exhaled as I walked back down the stairs. I was not in the mood for any more arguments. When I entered the living room again, Diane was still seated on the couch. The laptop was open on her thighs. She looked up the moment I walked in.

“Is everything alright?” she asked. Her voice was calm, maybe too calm, like she was trying not to show that she cared.

“It is fine,” I said.

“Okay,” she replied, turning back to her screen.

“We can continue,” I added. “Sorry about the interruption.”

“No problem,” she said without looking up.

I sat next to her again, but I kept a little distance this time. I did not want her to be uncomfortable. Not after what happened upstairs. She clicked something on her screen and brought up a blank email draft.

“I want to compose the first email that will reach Mike,” she said. “From the fake company’s account.”

“Alright,” I said. “Let me see what you have in mind.”

She started typing. I watched her fingers move quickly. She paused a few times, reading what she wrote carefully before continuing.

“Let me read it out,” she said.

“Go ahead.”

She cleared her throat a little and began. “Good day, Mr. Mike. On behalf of the Ward Initiative research unit, we are reaching out because we believe you will be interested in our recent findings concerning wine processing improvement. The project is in a sensitive stage and we prefer discussing it privately with selected investors. We have reports prepared and we hope to hear from you to schedule a meeting.”

I nodded. “It sounds convincing.”

“You think he will reply?” I asked.

“He likes anything that sounds private and exclusive,” She said. “Especially when it feels like something only he is qualified to see.”

“Then I think you should add a line about limited slots,” I said.

She nodded and typed again. I moved slightly closer, trying to read the words properly. Our shoulders brushed lightly. She shifted a little but not too far. I did not pull back either. It was not intentional, but the moment lingered.

“Let me see,” I said.

She turned the laptop toward me. Our hands touched again near the edge of the keyboard. She did not pull her hand away immediately this time. She kept it there for a second before finally moving it.

She was trying to stay composed, but I could see small cracks. Her breathing changed a little. She blinked more than usual. She kept her face stiff, but I could see the emotion fighting through.

“Diane,” I said quietly.

She looked at me, just for a moment. Then she looked away.

“I am fine,” she said.

“You look tired.”

“I am not tired. I am just… trying to focus.”

I wanted to say something else, something I knew I should not say, so I swallowed it and looked back at the screen.

“The email is good,” I said. “Very good.”

“Should I send it?” she asked.

“Wait,” I said. “Let me read it again.”

I leaned closer. She leaned back a little, not to avoid me fully, just enough to keep herself steady. I finished reading.

“Send it,” I said.

She nodded and clicked the send button. She shut the laptop slowly afterward, pressing her fingers on the cover like she needed a moment to breathe.

“You did well,” I said.

“Thank you.”

There was a short silence. I could see her struggling with something. She was holding it in tightly.

“You can say whatever is on your mind,” I told her.

She looked at me again. Her eyes softened for a second, just a second, as if she wanted to let something out, but she forced it back.

“There is nothing,” she said.

“You almost said something.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I am fine. It is nothing.”

It was not nothing, but she was not ready to open up. I watched her look away again, her jaw tightening slightly. She was trying to stay strong. She was fighting her feelings for me, feelings that I could see even when she tried to hide them.

Before I could say anything else, her phone started ringing on the table.

She looked at the screen. The number was not saved, but recognition flashed across her face.

Her eyes shifted to me. “It is Mike.”

Something hit my chest sharply but I did not show it on my face.

“Do not pick it,” I said.

But she had already swiped to answer.

“Hello,” she said.

I watched her expression change slowly as she listened. My jaw tightened. My hand curled on the couch. I pretended to look indifferent, but I knew she noticed the slight shift in me.

Her eyes lifted to mine for a moment. Then her expression changed again.

Whatever Mike said made her sit up straighter. And the line went quiet for a second.