VIRTUES UNDER A VEIL

The Johnson Mansion, Aurelia

The Johnson family, known for their influential connections in Aurelia and their Amara heritage (a land known for its enduring beauty and capital city, Splendor), resided in a grand mansion. At its helm stood Mr. Samson Johnson, a man whose wealth stemmed from his renowned wine company across Amara and Aurelia.

Inside his spartan study, devoid of warmth reflecting his personality, a tense atmosphere crackled. Mr. Johnson wore a deep frown, while his wife, Christine, displayed a sly smile that thrived on the tension.

"She's not answering my calls, and now her phone's off!" Benjamin's father complained. "Olivia dares to ignore you?" Mr. Johnson boomed, anger evident in his voice.

Christine, a woman consumed by self-importance, slithered closer to her husband. She draped herself over him, her voice dripping with feigned concern, "That's what happens when you marry a low-class nobody, darling."

Mr. Johnson, with a sharp yank, removed her arm and stepped back, his gaze fixed on the bustling maids tending to their morning chores. "You're right, Christine," he said, a low growl in his voice. "Olivia isn't worthy of being our grandson's wife."

A triumphant smile spread across Christine's face as she heard her husband echo her sentiments. Picking up a book from his desk, she flipped through the pages, her voice laced with malice. "Hmm, honey, it's not too late to get rid of her. She's a bad omen. Marrying our handsome Benjamin only to bring him near death on their wedding day – what a devil she is!"

Mr. Johnson, seemingly weary of his wife's dramatics, countered, "Leave it for now. If you truly believe she's the devil, shouldn't you be the one by Benjamin's side?"

Christine, a sly woman herself, met his gaze, her voice daring yet laced with feigned concern for her grandchild. "Oh, absolutely, dear. A grandmother's duty calls! I must be with my hospitalized grandson." With that, she swept out, the click of her heels echoing through the mansion.

Olivia's Perspective:

Confined to the sterile hospital room for  days, I couldn't help but wonder if Benjamin's beloved grandmother even cared about her grandson's well-being. Her actions were a constant source of confusion and astonishment.

Just a week ago, she orchestrated a dramatic scene to force Benjamin to cancel the wedding. Such theatrics, I thought, belonged only in movies. But Mrs. Christine Johnson shattered that illusion.

Benjamin and I were finalizing the venue details – a replacement for the one unexpectedly booked on our wedding day.

As we toured the venue, our happiness was palpable. It was shattered by a call from the mansion, summoning us back.

Benjamin, moments ago radiating joy, returned from his phone call with a face etched with worry and panic. Sensing something amiss, I approached him, concern etched on my face.

"Is everything alright, Ben?" I asked. He avoided my gaze, his voice strained as he muttered, "They called. Grandma's sick. Wants us to postpone the wedding until she recovers."

My heart plummeted. Why the sudden illness? I had seen her earlier that day, perfectly healthy. Was this another ploy? Frustration gnawed at me. What could I possibly do?

The unanswered question swirled in my head. I tightened my yellow gown, grabbed my purse, and hurried out of the venue.

Hailing a taxi, I instructed the driver, voice firm with urgency, "Please, faster! I need to get somewhere."

The taxi driver, wearing a bright blue polo shirt, nodded and accelerated. We reached the mansion in record time. I rummaged through my red purse, paid the fare, and hurried up the long path, my heart pounding.

Reaching the imposing double doors, I saw a flurry of activity. Panic hung heavy in the air, worse than I'd imagined.

Without stopping to ask, I ascended the grand, curving staircase, each step echoing my growing unease.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I reached the top, breathless and sweating. The dimly lit hallway leading to Mrs. Johnson's room mirrored the coldness I'd come to associate with her. Two of her maids stood outside, their faces etched with worry.

"Excuse me," I said, my voice tight. "May I see her?"

Their stares were icy daggers. I knew this family, from the top down, held me in contempt, but I hadn't anticipated the animosity of the staff as well.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I ignored their hostility and pushed open the door. This was the first time I'd ever stepped into Mrs. Johnson's private domain.

The room, much like its owner, was devoid of warmth. Its stark décor, dominated by shades of ash and light green, screamed of wealth. A massive dresser, unlike anything I'd ever seen, occupied a corner, a testament to her extravagant tastes.

Mrs. Johnson, pale and unmoving, occupied the center of the room. Her eyes remained closed, adding to the tense atmosphere that hung heavy in the air.

Beside her stood Benjamin, his face etched with worry. His cousin, a younger version of Benjamin with a rebellious glint in his eyes, leaned nonchalantly against the wall.

Luna, my stepmom and CEO of the prestigious LJH Wares company, stood opposite Benjamin, her posture radiating an air of icy authority.

In stark contrast, my father-in-law sat beside his unconscious mother. His eyes, though filled with sadness, held a flicker of something else – mischief perhaps? It seemed an odd combination for a man known for his coldness towards everyone.

A quick glance confirmed Mr. Johnson's absence, a relief considering his intimidating presence. Luna, however, locked eyes with me, her gaze a frigid death stare.

My body froze under her scrutiny. I forced myself to look away and managed a tentative greeting, expecting silence. Instead, it was Luna's brother who spoke first, his voice dripping with venom.

"The devil walks among us!"

His words, surprisingly, elicited a spark of defiance within me.  "Devil?" I echoed, meeting his harsh gaze with a newfound resolve. "Perhaps I am starting to understand this family's language."

Before I could dwell on that, Luna swooped in, her words laced with bitter accusation. "You're just like your mother, Olivia! Wherever you go, trouble follows, like a shadow cast by the devil himself!"

She roughly yanked my head up with a long, painted nail, forcing me to meet her icy eyes. "If my mother doesn't recover soon, consider the wedding off!" With a final hiss, she stormed out of the room.

Ben's father, echoing her sentiment, muttered on his way out, "There's no point in a wedding if she doesn't get better."

Left alone with Benjamin and his  cousin my step brother, I watched the joy drain from Benjamin's face. Was it his grandmother's health, or the possible cancellation of our wedding?

Confused and overwhelmed, my legs moved on their own. Benjamin's cousin, Timothy, cast me a disdainful look before scurrying out.

Now a mere four steps separated me from Benjamin. My voice barely a whisper, I reached out to him.

But before I could speak, he delivered a blow that shattered my remaining hope. "If she doesn't get better by then," he said, his voice cold and emotionless, "forget about the wedding."

He left without a backward glance, leaving me standing there, numb and alone. The Johnsons, as I'd discovered, were masters of emotional detachment. The only warmth they seemed capable of was reserved for cold, hard business deals.