SMR | Chapter 75

 ~Chapter 75~ 

Viviana smiled and nodded, but Harriet could sense a bit of hesitation behind the smile.

“Yes. I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? I don’t have feelings for Adam anymore, and I’m no longer Bella’s friend.”

Her words sounded confident, but Harriet saw right through them. That smile—although brave—hid uncertainty. Maybe Viviana wasn’t completely sure. Maybe seeing Adam again would stir something inside her. Maybe it would hurt. Perhaps, when she saw him again, she’d feel shaken—or even want to run away.

But despite knowing that, Viviana had made a choice. She had chosen to face it. To go to the party, to walk into a room where people might judge her, where she might see people who once laughed behind her back.

Harriet looked at her friend with admiration. Viviana was trying to take back control of her life. That small step forward, that moment of bravery, deserved respect.

Harriet grinned and reached out to take Viviana’s hand.

“In that case,” she said with determination, “let’s show them.”

“Show them?” Viviana asked, confused. “What are you talking about? Show who?”

“Bella. Adam. Everyone who thinks you’re going to show up all embarrassed, crying, broken… Let’s show them just how amazing Viviana Deluce really is. Let’s prove that you’re more beautiful, more confident, and stronger than ever.”

Harriet clenched her fist with determination, like she was preparing to fight. Viviana gave her a skeptical look, but a soft laugh escaped her lips. Harriet’s enthusiasm was hard to resist.

***

Meanwhile, Trisha had to decline the invitation to the Laurel family’s party.

“If I attend and end up coughing the entire night, I’ll only make people uncomfortable.”

The medicine did help suppress her coughing spells, but only when she was resting. If she exerted herself—even a little—the coughing would come back. It was simply too risky.

“So please go in my place and give them my regards.”

“That’s not a problem. But… you haven’t been going out much lately. Are you feeling worse?” Harriet asked, worry clouding her features.

“Nonsense,” Trisha said with a wave of her hand. “I’m getting older. It’s natural to stay home more often. Nobody wants to see an old lady like me at a party anyway.”

It was an obvious excuse. Harriet didn’t believe it for a second. The number of invitations arriving at the house said otherwise—Trisha was still very much wanted and welcomed in society.

But Harriet didn’t argue. She simply smiled.

“The Count and Countess of Laurel will surely miss you. But I’ll deliver your message and make sure everything goes well. Please rest while I’m gone.”

As she gently held Trisha’s thin, wrinkled hand, Harriet noticed the way her eyes glistened. Was it from the warmth of Harriet’s gesture—or perhaps from the growing fear of what the future might bring?

As Harriet left the room, Roxana followed her into the hallway. It was obvious she had something to say.

Harriet turned as soon as the door closed. “Roxana… her health really is getting worse, isn’t it?”

Roxana hesitated for a moment, then nodded slowly.

“She’s getting weaker. And unfortunately, there’s no real cure for what she has. Right now, we’re focusing on pain management and slowing down the progression.”

A heavy silence settled between them. Harriet felt her chest tighten. Trisha had been more than a guardian. She had been like a second mother.

“She’s important to me,” Harriet whispered, more to herself than to Roxana. “I’m scared.”

Roxana, who usually kept a composed and firm attitude, gave Harriet’s shoulder an awkward but reassuring pat.

“She may not return to full health,” she said gently, “but with proper care, she could live another ten years.”

“Is there a painkiller that works well for her?”

“Not quite yet. But pharmaceutical companies are making progress. I’m hopeful we’ll have better options soon.”

Harriet nodded quietly, still trying to come to terms with reality.

People died. That was life. But knowing it didn’t make it any less painful. Trisha was sixty-six—if she lived another ten years, she’d have exceeded the average noblewoman’s lifespan. Harriet should feel grateful.

But she wasn’t ready to say goodbye. She didn’t want to imagine a world without Trisha in it.

She looked up and noticed Roxana’s pale skin and the dark circles under her eyes. The Roxana had been tirelessly caring for Trisha around the clock while still managing house affairs. It was no surprise that she looked exhausted.

Harriet suddenly felt selfish.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

Roxana raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For making you worry. For not being more helpful.”

“You’re already doing more than enough,” Roxana replied. “If you want to help, just don’t cause any more trouble.”

Harriet smiled at the familiar sarcasm.

It was Roxana’s way of saying, “You’re doing fine. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”

Harriet let out a soft laugh and watched as Roxana returned to the room. She whispered to herself, “I’ll do my best. I promise.”

***

Back in her room, Harriet picked up the letter she had been reading earlier.

“We can’t let more people suffer because of Bella Listerwell. I’ll support Miss Viviana.
But if either of you tries to use Daphne for your own benefit, I won’t hesitate to pull back my support.”

It was from Melody Luce, Daphne’s close friend.

‘Just as I expected,’ Harriet thought. ‘Melody’s soft when it comes to emotional appeals. I didn’t think she’d agree so easily.’

Viviana and Harriet didn’t belong to any particular social circle. They could talk to Annabell’s group and exchange pleasantries at the party, but they wouldn’t truly fit in.

Harriet normally wouldn’t care. But Viviana wasn’t as used to standing alone.

That’s why Harriet reached out to Melody. She knew Melody didn’t particularly like her—but Melody hated Bella more.

Harriet explained Viviana’s story honestly: how she had been hurt by love, tricked by Bella, and abandoned by the social world. All she asked was for Melody to ensure that Viviana wouldn’t be treated like a villain.

Melody agreed. With that, Harriet felt a weight lift from her shoulders.

Daphne and Melody’s group had just as much influence as Bella’s. If Viviana could walk with them, dressed in a beautiful gown, exuding confidence, even Adam would be forced to take notice.

‘It’s not complicated,’ Harriet thought. ‘But it works. Especially on shallow people like Adam Hofner.’

She had seen it with her own eyes. The way a woman dressed, carried herself, and spoke could change how society viewed her. Harriet had experienced that shift herself.

Now it was Viviana’s turn.

‘And I can’t be the weak one either,’ Harriet told herself. ‘I need to keep up.’

She opened her wardrobe and flipped through the dresses hanging neatly inside. There was one she had never worn—a beautiful pink dress with trendy details.

It was the kind of dress a confident, popular girl might wear. Harriet had hesitated to wear it before, unsure if she could pull it off.

But for party, it was the perfect choice.

She pulled it out and hung it where she could see it.

‘It’s flashy… but I need to match with the others. I don’t want to look like a moth in a room full of butterflies.’

The party was two days away.

***

The night of the Laurel party arrived. It had been one year and seven months since they last hosted such an event.

Carriages lined the streets in front of the estate. Noble families arrived one after another, each dressed in their finest.

Harriet stood in line next to Viviana, her hands folded neatly in front of her. She could feel the nerves building.

“I hope Daphne is okay,” she whispered. “If she shows even a hint of sadness, people will whisper behind her back.”

Even pity could be cruel in high society.

“You’re worrying like her older sister,” Viviana teased.

“I just don’t want Bella to keep hurting people. Every time someone suffers because of her, I feel like screaming.”

Viviana chuckled. “You really should worry about yourself. People still call you the ‘Scandal Maker,’ you know.”

“I don’t mind.”

“That’s just it,” Viviana said. “You ignore your own worries. But I think that’s another kind of scar, you know?”

Harriet blinked, taken aback by the insight. But before she could respond, it was their turn to enter.

The grand hall opened before them, and Harriet’s breath caught in her throat.

It was magnificent.

Crystal chandeliers sparkled from the ceiling. Paintings lined the walls—true masterpieces that stole the eye. Elegant floral arrangements overflowed from glass vases, even though spring hadn’t yet arrived.

The chairs and lounges scattered throughout the hall looked brand new, their fabric smooth and untouched. Everything gleamed under the soft, golden lights.

It was clear the Count of Laurel had spared no expense. He had gone out of his way to make this party a spectacle. Maybe it was to show that Daphne wasn’t broken. That their family wasn’t affected by scandal.

Harriet glanced around. The guest list was large. And curiously, there were more young people than usual.

It was going to be a night to remember.