A Perfect Plan

VIVIENNE VANCE

VIVIENNE

Sleep remained a distant luxury as the heavy reality of my son’s future hung precariously in the balance. The digital clock on the nightstand glared in the dark room, marking the relentless passage of time. I tossed and turned against the silk sheets, my mind churning through the tangled mess of the Vance family legacy.

Declan had exactly two weeks to get married. Fourteen days. That was the shrinking window standing between my son and his grandfather's vast estate. The old man’s will hung over our heads like a guillotine, demanding a settled, married successor to anchor the empire. If Declan failed to stand at the altar and say his vows before the deadline expired, he would lose everything. The sprawling properties, the generational wealth, the undisputed power—all of it would default to the government. Or worse, it would be carved up by the greedy vultures we called family. My siblings-in-law were already circling, waiting for my son to stumble so they could feast on his birthright.

Finding a willing bride was not the actual hurdle. Countless women would kill for the Vance name. The massive problem standing squarely in the way was Declan’s sheer stubbornness. He remained adamant about marrying his childhood crush, Valerie Croft. It was a foolish, blinding obsession. Valerie clearly wanted nothing to do with him. She had rejected him, rudely and publicly, making her distaste known to anyone who cared to listen.

I let out a harsh sigh, staring at the shadowed ceiling. I had found the perfect leverage earlier today at the hospital—a destitute family, a dying sister, a beautiful girl named Celeste Hayes. She was the perfect pawn. But how was I supposed to make my stubborn son accept a stranger when his mind was fixated on a woman who despised him? If I tried convincing him to marry someone else, it might take a month of arguing before he even considered my proposition. We did not have a month. We had days.

“Vivienne…”

The gruff, sleep-heavy voice broke through my racing thoughts. Gideon shifted on his side of the massive bed, pulling the duvet over his shoulder.

“Sleep,” my husband ordered, his tone laced with irritation. “Your restlessness is ruining my night.”

I pushed myself up, resting my back against the tufted headboard. “How can I sleep when I am in such a dilemma?” I asked, letting my exhaustion bleed into my voice.

Gideon groaned, a low, rumbling sound of protest, before he sat up. He rubbed his face, clearly annoyed that I was dragging him into this late-night crisis.

“What is it, Vivienne?” he asked.

“Declan,” I said.

Gideon groaned louder this time, throwing his head back. He rarely showed concern about what Declan did with his personal life, treating our son’s crises as mere annoyances that interrupted his comfort.

“He needs to get married in the next two weeks,” I reminded him, waiting for some spark of paternal strategy to kick in.

“He should get married then,” Gideon stated, waving a dismissive hand in the dark.

“He will. The problem is that he wants Valerie and only Valerie,” I mumbled, rubbing my temples.

“Give him Valerie then,” he replied. His tone carried that sharp edge that insisted I was wasting his precious time.

I turned my head and openly glared at him, letting my silence speak volumes about his nonchalant behavior. Even in the dim light, he must have felt the weight of my stare. He cleared his throat, shifting his posture and leaning against the pillows to face me properly.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked, finally injecting a fraction of genuine concern into his voice.

“Valerie doesn’t want him,” I snapped, my voice rising in sheer frustration. “Why is this so hard to grasp?”

“Why does he have to get married at all? Just let him be,” he suggested, as if tossing away billions of dollars was a casual Tuesday decision.

“Are you even paying attention?” I demanded, throwing my hands up. “He needs to own the properties left by your father. He has to get married to claim them. If he fails, they roll over to the government or, God forbid, those vultures you call family!”

“Oh,” Gideon murmured, the realization finally settling over him. He rubbed his chin, the gears in his head starting to turn. “What are you going to do then?”

“He won’t marry anyone else except for Valerie. If he were reasonable, I would have secured another lady immediately,” I said. A cold, calculated smile spread across my face as the image of the striking girl I had noticed at the hospital flashed in my mind. Celeste. She was perfect. “But your son is as stubborn as a rock. He would choose to lose the properties rather than marry any other girl.”

Gideon placed his hands beneath his chin. He always adopted that posture when he was calculating his next move. I remained quiet, letting the silence stretch. I had the girl. I had the leverage. I just needed a way to bypass Declan's ridiculous loyalty to Valerie.

“Tell me his reaction when he asked you to secure Valerie for him,” Gideon said softly.

“He became excited about getting married,” I recalled, picturing my son's face. “He didn’t smile, but his eyes said it all. He thought he finally had a chance.”

“You can get him married then. Give him…” Gideon paused, a dark amusement dancing in his eyes. “Valerie. That’s who he wants.” He grinned at me.

“Are you deaf, Gideon?” I practically shouted, the annoyance boiling over. “Valerie doesn’t want Declan! They can’t get married. I cannot give him Valerie because there won’t be a Valerie!”

Gideon did not flinch at my outburst. Instead, he offered a sly, unbothered smile. His eyes gleamed with the ruthless cunning that had propelled him to the top of the political food chain.

“But there can be a Valerie,” he countered smoothly.

I raised my brows in vivid confusion, waiting for the punchline.

“Anyone you pick can be a Valerie Croft,” he explained, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You just have to pick a girl, my dear. She will be his Valerie Croft until their wedding ceremony is successfully over with. Once the papers are signed and the estate is secured, it won't matter who was standing under the veil.”

My mouth parted as the sheer weight of his manipulative genius struck me. Excitement flooded my veins, hot and fast. The simplicity of the deception was breathtaking. We didn't need to convince Declan to give up Valerie. We just needed to trick him until the vows were binding. Relief eased into my troubled heart, washing away the tension of the past few days. This was the perfect solution to secure the inheritance.

I leaned across the mattress and pressed a light kiss to his lips. I had almost forgotten what made him such a terrifying force in the world: manipulation.

“Goodnight, Vivienne,” he yawned, pulling the covers back up and lying down.

“Goodnight, love,” I said sweetly, settling back into my pillows. The restless anxiety was gone, replaced by the thrilling anticipation of the hunt.

***

By dawn, nervous energy had me fully in motion. Lying in bed was a waste of time when I had a trap to set. I dressed quickly in a sharp tailored suit, my mind already ten steps ahead.

I moved to the dining room and had a swift breakfast. The estate staff cast surprised glances at each other, clearly unaccustomed to seeing me up and ready so early in the morning. I ignored them, marching out the front doors. My convoy sat idling in the circular driveway. The security guards bowed their heads in greeting as I walked past them and slid into the plush leather seat of my waiting car.

The moment the door shut, I picked up my phone and dialed my Personal Assistant.

“Good... good morning, ma’am,” her voice came through the speaker, thick with sleep. I could hear her stumbling around her room, things crashing to the floor. I rolled my eyes at her lack of composure.

“What do you have on Celeste Hayes?” I demanded, cutting straight to the chase.

“Oh... um,” she stuttered, shuffling papers. “Okay. She just graduated from N.Y.U. with one of the best results in business education and arts. She is twenty-five years old and comes from a very low-class family. They have nothing to their name. Her father’s name is Gareth Hayes, and her mom goes by Miriam Hayes.”

I listened intently, watching the city streets blur past my window.

“Her little sister is Chloe Hayes,” my P.A. continued, her voice steadying. “Chloe is suffering from kidney failure. She is in the last phase, ma'am. On the brink of dying if she doesn’t get a new kidney very soon.”

A deep, satisfied smile curved my lips. The connection was flawless. The desperate, weeping couple from the hospital lobby and the beautiful girl in room 304 were bound by blood and tragedy. Their misfortune was my golden ticket. Without hesitation, I moved to phase two.

“Confirm the exact amount needed for a top-tier kidney transplant and make the payment for Chloe in full,” I ordered, my voice crisp. “Also, pay the hospital bills for Celeste. Keep the payments strictly anonymous. Then, get me the best wedding planner in the city. Someone who befits the wedding of a Vance.”

Before she could process the mountain of tasks, I ended the call.

“Take me to my son’s house,” I instructed my driver. The sleek car merged onto the highway, speeding toward Declan's private estate.

My face held a priceless glow of triumph the entire ride. When we pulled up to the grand iron gates of his property, I caught sight of his luxury sports car rolling down the paved driveway. He was heading out for the day.

I signaled my driver to block his path. The two vehicles stopped side by side. Declan’s tinted window glided down smoothly, revealing his sharp, handsome features. I pressed the button to lower my own window, meeting his gaze.

“It’s early in the morning, mom. Work is important,” he stated in his usual clipped, detached tone.

On any other day, I would have berated him for his lack of respect. Today, I was too thrilled by the trap I was spinning to care.

“You are getting married, son. Get ready,” I declared squarely, looking him dead in the eye.

His stoic expression cracked. His eyes widened in genuine shock, the mask slipping for a fraction of a second before he reeled his emotions back in. He gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

“She agreed...” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, speaking more to himself than to me. “Valerie Croft agreed.”

Knowing that telling him the truth would instantly jeopardize my entire plan, I offered absolutely no correction to his assumption. I let the lie hang in the cool morning air, thick and binding. If he thought Valerie was the one walking down the aisle, he would sign whatever I put in front of him.

I simply smiled, the picture of a supportive mother.

“Just prepare yourself,” I said softly.

Without waiting for his reply, I calmly rolled up my window, cutting off the conversation.

***

“The hospital,” I instructed my driver, changing our destination once again.

As the car navigated through the morning traffic, my phone buzzed. I answered immediately. There was no time to waste.

“Speak,” I said.

“I've got the wedding planner on standby,” my P.A. reported efficiently. “Her number is being forwarded to you right now. The medical bills for both Celeste Hayes and Chloe Hayes have been paid in full and made anonymous. Is there anything else you would like me to do?”

“Send tips to as many press agencies as you can reach,” I instructed, staring at the passing skyline. “Make it official. Let them know that billionaire heir Declan Vance is getting married.”

“Um... yes... yes, ma’am,” she stuttered, clearly caught off guard by the breaking news.

I grinned, shaking my head. She was probably one of the many girls in the city harboring a secret crush on my untouchable son.

“Oh, and get some sleep,” I warned her before hanging up. “You might be doing a lot of heavy lifting in the coming days.”

The plan was moving flawlessly. My son was going to get his birthright, and I was going to secure the Vance legacy. I couldn’t be happier.

When we arrived at the massive hospital complex, I stepped out of the car, breathing in the crisp air. Inside the pristine corridors, I learned that little Chloe was already prepped and in the operating room. The parents were pacing the waiting area downstairs.

Things were moving fast.

I took a brief detour to the third floor, walking quietly toward room 304. I paused near the doorway, taking a moment to peek in on my beautiful future daughter-in-law.

Celeste sat up in bed, looking radiant even in a hospital gown. She was chatting happily with a young man sitting close to her—the same boyfriend who had unwittingly given me her name yesterday.

“Who do you think paid the bills?” Celeste asked, her voice laced with wonder and relief.

“Babe, I don’t know,” the boyfriend replied, holding her hands gently. “Whoever it was, they decided to keep it anonymous. The doctor said we can leave tomorrow. They just want to watch over you a little bit longer.”

I couldn't help but pout in pure amusement, watching the sweet, naive scene unfold. I knew full well that their little relationship was destined to end before they even realized what hit them. A Vance bride did not keep loose ends. I stared at Celeste for a moment longer, marveling at the striking features that would undoubtedly dominate the press cycles for weeks to come.

Leaving the doomed lovers to their temporary happiness, I turned on my heel and headed for the surgical waiting room.

I found Gareth and Miriam Hayes huddled together on a stiff vinyl couch. They looked exhausted, shadows carved deep under their eyes, clutching each other's hands like lifelines. They had no idea I had been watching their family from the shadows.

I stepped into the room and cleared my throat softly to get their attention.

Their heads snapped up. Their eyes widened in recognition as they saw the wealthy woman from the lobby standing before them. They both scrambled to their feet respectfully.

“Good day, ma’am,” Miriam stuttered, wiping her damp cheeks.

I took a seat in one of the armchairs across from them, crossing my legs with practiced elegance. I gestured for them to do the same. They sat down hesitantly, their hands still gripping each other tight.

“You must be wondering who paid for your daughters' massive medical bills,” I said, cutting straight to the chase. I locked eyes with Gareth. “Well, I paid the bills.”

Their jaws dropped instantly. The shock paralyzed them for a heartbeat before the overwhelming gravity of the gift hit them. They slipped off the vinyl couch, falling to their knees on the hard floor in a display of overwhelming gratitude. Tears streamed down Miriam’s face as they began babbling their thanks, treating me like a savior who had descended from the heavens.

I raised a hand, smoothly interrupting their weeping.

“Oh, don’t thank me,” I stated, my voice turning to ice. I looked down at them, letting the predatory edge of my intent bleed through. “You will pay back the money.”

They froze.

“Or rather,” I continued, leaning forward slightly, “you will show your appreciation in a different way.”

Pure panic washed over their faces. The immense gratitude shattered, instantly replaced by utter horror. They stared up at me, trembling, realizing they had just traded one impossible debt for a much more dangerous one.

I sat back, watching their fear settle deep into their bones. I offered them a placating, terrifying smile.

“It’s nothing inhuman, don’t stress,” I promised, my tone light but uncompromising. I stood up, smoothing the front of my suit. “I will let you both be for now. Wait until your daughter recovers from her successful operation. Then, we will talk.”