Day Seventy…
~~*****~~
[ At Vincent's Villa… ]
In a well-lit study room, the ambiance was warm and inviting. Vincent sat on a sofa while his niece, Mia, nestled comfortably on his lap. They looked like a real father and daughter duo. In their background, several bookshelves lined up, neatly arranged in rows, each one holding a treasure trove of books, standing shoulder to shoulder like old friends.
The books themselves varied in size, color, and texture, creating a visually captivating mosaic. Some were tall and imposing, bound in leather and adorned with intricate designs, while others were slim and unassuming paperbacks.
Vincent cradled the storybook in his hands, its pages filled with colorful illustrations that captivated his niece's wide-eyed attention. With gentle and melodic tones, he narrated the enchanting tale, his voice weaving a magical spell that transported them both to a world of whimsy and wonder.
Mia, rapt with fascination, listened intently, her small fingers tracing the illustrations as Vincent turned each page. The bond between uncle and niece was palpable in this heartwarming moment, however, the peaceful and warm atmosphere inside was ruined when Monica stormed through the grand double doors that led to Vincent's study in the heat of her anger.
The doors swung open with a resounding thud, drawing attention to her tumultuous entrance. Her footsteps were heavy and purposeful, echoing through the room as she strode forward with determination.
Helena's entrance disrupted the serene atmosphere of the study, shocking both Mia and Vincent. He frowned as he noticed Monica's seething mood. Meanwhile, Mia gazed at her uncle with an anxious expression. She was scared of Monica's cold and angry look.
"Vincent, we need to talk!" She demanded with her stern cold voice, her eyes ablaze with anger, and her fists clenched at her sides. Her normally composed demeanor was replaced by an air of fiery defiance.
Vincent gently set Mia down, then rose to his feet. He placed his hands on Mia's shoulders and softly asked her to leave the room. Mia simply nodded and complied with her uncle's request, stepping out of the study room.
When Mia disappeared, Monica confronted Vincent. She approached him and without hesitation, she raised her hand, slapping Vincent. Caught off guard by the force of her anger, he was left reeling, unable to respond.
Pak!
The crisp sound of that slap resounded inside the study room.
"How could you do this to me, Vincent?! Why did you betray me?" The room was filled with an electric air of tension as Helena's rage exploded. She let out a torrent of accusations and anger, her voice rising to a crescendo as she unleashed her pent-up emotions.
Vincent stood there, trying to hold his annoyance. He didn't know why she was acting this way, asking himself what did he do to deserve that slap.
"What are you talking about?" He asked her in confusion.
"Don't feign innocence, Vincent! I already learned the truth! You were in contact with Phantomflake behind my back! You talked to her! I told you to kill her but you didn't do anything. Don't tell me you already have feelings for her?! Are you choosing her over me!"
With each accusation, she punctuated her words with wild gestures, pointing accusing fingers and gesturing wildly to emphasize her points. She punched him on his chest, hitting him over and over again.
Vincent didn't know what to say. He was even shocked at how she learned about this. "Did you meet her behind my back?" Vincent had been looking for Jane since Phoenix failed his mission. Who would have thought that Monica would discover something?
"Calm down first. Let's talk this out," Vincent said in his calm voice. He couldn't get mad at her since he was at fault here. He couldn't deny the fact that he hid something from her. Besides, he needed to figure out how Monica discovered his recent encounters with Jane.
However, Monica couldn't calm down. "Answer me!!!" She yelled in frustration. "Did you meet her behind my back? How long are you gonna plan to hide this from me?"
"Yes. I met her once. But It doesn't mean that I betray you. This is part of my plan." Vincent tried to reason out with her, justifying his action.
His confession only served to further stoke the flames of Monica's anger. In response, she unleashed her fury, kicking the chair and slamming the desk. With unrestrained force, she hurled any object that fell within her reach, transforming the room into a chaotic battleground of flying objects and shattered decor.
Her emotions were a tempest, and the room bore the brunt of her wrath as her rage surged like an uncontrollable storm. The room seemed to echo with the clattering of overturned objects and the sharp thud of her fist hitting the table. Her hair, usually impeccably styled, was now disheveled, mirroring the chaos of her emotions.
"I'll kill her! I'll kill her! I won't let her take you away from me! You belong to me, Vincent!" Monica's voice quivered as she screamed in a mixed blend of anger, desperation, and possessiveness.
On the other hand, Vincent's eyes reflected a swirl of complicated emotions as he gently encircled her with his arms, enveloping her in a protective embrace from behind. His gesture conveyed a mixture of understanding, sympathy, and a profound acknowledgment of the complex web of emotions that entangled them.
"I'm sorry, Darling. Let me explain." Vincent knew that he needed to pacify his woman. "I swear… I would never betray you." He recognized the urgency of the situation and understood the necessity of soothing Monica's distress.
With Vincent's reassuring arms enveloping her, Monica's anger gradually subsided. The storm of her emotions began to calm, and she ceased her act of throwing objects. Instead, she stood there, her chest heaving with the remnants of her earlier rage, as she focused on regulating her breath, inhaling and exhaling deeply.
Jane's calculated actions had indeed sown discord between the two couples. While Monica's tempestuous anger had gradually subsided, she remained deeply perturbed by the revelations and suspicions of betrayal. In the recesses of her mind, doubts began to creep in like insidious shadows.
As she sought solace in the calming embrace of Vincent, nagging questions haunted her. She couldn't help but wonder whether Vincent's interactions with Jane harbored deeper feelings, sparking an unsettling fear that she had long dreaded. The thought of Vincent's affections veering away from her was a source of deep anxiety that weighed heavily on her heart.
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