Chapter 3: Clara's Vicious scheme
Clara was admiring herself in the small, ornate mirror behind the counter of the art gallery. Her new dress fit perfectly. Her hair shimmered under the gallery lights. Life was good. Better than good. It was perfect. She had Harris, a guilt-ridden puppy dog who still clung to her. She had her freedom. And most importantly, she had the Chambers family in her hands.
Then her phone buzzed. A message. From Viola.
Clara’s hand trembled as she read the words. It was short. Just a few lines. But each word felt like a tiny needle, digging into her skin.
“I’m back. And I’m coming for what’s mine. See you soon, cousin.”
The blood drained from Clara’s face. Her reflection in the mirror seemed to twist, becoming ugly and afraid. The dress suddenly felt too tight. Her perfect hair seemed to mock her.
Clara felt vexed. That was the first feeling. A hot surge of anger. How dare she? How dare Viola come back? After all the careful work, all the planning?
Then came the anxiety. A cold knot formed in her stomach. Viola was back. The heiress. The real Chambers child. Everything Clara had worked for, every fake smile, every sweet lie, every calculated move, could be ruined. She had spent years, years! Planting seeds of doubt about Viola in Harris’s mind, slowly, expertly pushing them together. She had made sure Harris felt trapped, lost, so he would fall into her arms. She had created the perfect picture of betrayal, knowing Viola would break and run. And she had run. Which was within her expectations.
But now, she was back. And she was talking about “what’s mine.” That meant the Chambers fortune. The massive wealth. The power. The third top wealthiest family in the country. That was supposed to be hers. Clara had been so close. So incredibly close to having it all. She had practiced her innocent faces, her comforting words, her sly hints for years. She had played the part of the helpful, loyal cousin flawlessly. She knew about Viola’s parents not liking her. It just made her try harder. She would prove them wrong. She would get what she wanted, no matter what.
And now this. Viola was back. Like a ghost returned to haunt her.
Anger. A furious, burning rage. It bubbled up from deep inside her. Viola was supposed to stay gone. She was supposed to wither and disappear. Clara had put in so much effort, so much planning. She had been so good at playing the victim, the “supportive friend,” all while moving pieces on her chessboard. She had even managed to get Harris to feel guilty about her instead of Viola sometimes. She had him wrapped around her finger. And it had all been for this: the Chambers fortune. The life of luxury and endless power.
She paced the floor, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood. What could she do? Viola was the only child. The father was sick. It was a clear path for Viola to take over the company. To take over everything Clara wanted.
She poured herself a strong drink. Her mind worked fast, like a machine, trying to find a crack, a weakness. Viola was tough now, she knew. That message proved it. No more weeping, broken girl. This was a new Viola. But every person had a weakness. Every person had a past.
And Clara knew Viola’s past better than anyone. She had been there, watching, planning, waiting.
The company. That was the key. If Viola couldn’t run the company, she couldn’t inherit the fortune.
Clara’s eyes darted around the room, settling on an old photo frame on her shelf. A picture of her, Viola, and Harris, smiling falsely at the camera. A wave of bitterness washed over her. She picked up the photo. Her fingers traced Viola’s face. A cold, sinister smile began to form on her lips.
Clara started to move. First, she called a few old friends. Not real friends, just people who owed her favors, or who were easily swayed by money and gossip. People who were known for “knowing things” and spreading rumors. She started planting seeds, small, innocent-sounding questions.
“Oh, have you heard about the Chambers family? Poor Mr. Chambers, so sick. And Viola, well, it’s so sad she just disappeared for two years. A little… unstable, don’t you think? After everything she went through? I mean, the accident, and then… well, you know. Such a fragile state.”
The rumors would start quietly. Viola Chambers. The accident. The disappearance. A breakdown? Is she really fit to run such a big company?
Next, she went after the company itself.
“She just shows up now? After two years? When the old man is dying and the company is struggling? How convenient.”
She even found old, private medical records from Viola’s hospital stay after the accident. Records that mentioned “emotional distress” and “fragile mental state.” She knew a shady contact who could “accidentally” leave these in a public place, or send them to the right person – maybe a rival business, or a major investor. Not full details, just enough to cause doubt, to raise questions about Viola’s mental fitness to lead.
Clara also planned to use Harris. He was her puppet now. He felt terrible, guilty, and she could play him like a fiddle. She’d make him doubt Viola, too. She’d convince him that Viola was back only for revenge, not for him, not for love. She’d make him believe that Viola was dangerous, and unstable.
The next day, Clara put her plan into action. She had a meeting with a powerful, old family friend who was also a key member of the Chambers board. She sat across from him, her face a mask of sorrow and concern.
“It’s so hard, Mr. Henderson,” she began, her voice quivering slightly. “My poor cousin, Viola. I love her, you know. But after… everything… disappearing for two years. It’s just so worrying. I pray she’s stable enough to handle such a burden, especially now with my uncle so ill.”
She let the words hang in the air, allowing the seeds of doubt to take root. Mr. Henderson, a man who valued stability and reputation above all else, nodded slowly, his brow furrowed.
Later that week, she got the anonymous medical records to the right person. She made sure a photo of Viola looking disheveled and sad during her hospital stay somehow found its way to a minor gossip column, framed with a sly headline:
“Chambers Heiress Returns: Is She Fit to Lead?”
Clara smiled, a dark, satisfied smile. She had the first move. And soon, Viola would feel the full force of Clara’s vengeance. But Viola, for all her pain and anger, had no idea just how deep Clara’s roots ran, or how many hidden traps lay waiting for her return.
And just as Clara felt most confident, a sharp, sudden rap on her gallery door made her jump. It was late. Who could it be? Her heart pounded. She glanced at the security camera. A single figure stood outside, shrouded in the dim streetlights.
A familiar figure.