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Chapter_8
Vivienne returned home to find her parents, Dorian and Cordelia, sitting anxiously on the couch, their expressions tense. As she walked in, she poured herself a glass of water and looked at them with a raised eyebrow. “What’s going on? You two look like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
Dorian immediately stood up and grabbed Vivienne’s arm, his voice filled with excitement. “Slap me, quick! This can’t be real!”
Vivienne, slightly taken aback by the request, withdrew her hand slowly, clearly confused. “What on earth is bothering you?”
Dorian’s eyes were wide, and he glanced nervously at the expensive-looking surroundings. “I feel like I’m dreaming, Vivienne. I looked up the furniture in this place, and it’s worth a small fortune. But the rent—fifty dollars a month? Something’s not right. This has to be some kind of trap, doesn’t it?”
He lowered his voice, as if afraid someone might overhear. “What if the scammer shows up with a bunch of henchmen? We won’t be able to escape.”
Vivienne couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at her father’s paranoia. With a sigh, she patted Dorian’s shoulder and tried to calm him down. “We’re in Tranquil Estates now, Mr. Hawthorn.”
Dorian blinked in confusion. “I know. It’s the most luxurious neighborhood in Havenwood, but—”
Vivienne interrupted, “Exactly. Do you really think anyone would risk running some shady pyramid scheme in such a high-end area?”
Dorian seemed to struggle with the logic for a moment. “But… why would the landlord rent this house out to us for so little?”
Vivienne rubbed her temples in frustration, feeling the exhaustion of the day catching up to her. “Didn’t the agent tell you? The landlord just wants someone trustworthy to take care of the house.”
“But fifty dollars a month?” Dorian wasn’t convinced.
Vivienne chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Maybe the landlord is just ‘rich and kind-hearted.’”
“That makes sense,” Dorian said, finally convinced. “The landlord must be really generous.”
Vivienne couldn’t help but smile at her father’s naivety. “Sure, ‘rich and kind-hearted,’” she thought to herself. In reality, Vivienne wasn’t generous or even well-off—she was barely scraping by. But what else could she say? Her father was already stretching the truth enough.
At that moment, Cordelia, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally relaxed. “Since everything seems fine with the house, we might as well just settle in and enjoy it. It’s a nice place, and it’s probably because of Vivienne’s good luck that we got here.”
Vivienne, though grateful for the peace of the moment, felt the weight of her responsibilities starting to press on her. She had so much on her plate: the pressure of supporting her family, the mysterious healing pills, and the lingering feeling that she was only one wrong step away from disaster.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Matthew. “The healing pills are set. The buyers are eager.” She looked at the message but didn’t reply right away. She needed to focus on her family first.
Dorian and Cordelia seemed content for now, but Vivienne couldn’t afford to relax for long. The deal with the pills, the money, the house—it was all just a temporary reprieve. For now, she let herself breathe a little easier, appreciating the luxury of the moment while bracing for the challenges that lay ahead.
