Unfortunately, I'm an Evil Villainess

Chapter 112 - Villainess (III)

It was quite amusing to watch Catherine be flustered and giddy over the sudden cordiality of my friends. I had suggested it to them innocently enough so that in the aftermath they could exaggerate how horrible Catherine was to betray my kindness, with the undertone to stay among us that it would be comical to stoop to her level and see her reactions. She did not disappoint, and our party was duly entertained.

"Oh, I just read that recently, and I loved it!"

"Yes, those lilies are from Alcastor! Their scent is amazing!"

"I-I'm not that well-versed in philosophy, but this is just what I think!"

We laughed and made it sound like approval. Remarks that sounded like encouragement but were understood to be ironic by everyone but the subject herself were handed out freely. She smiled so happily, too! I laughed the most, and to an unintelligent observer, my words were the sweetest.

"Why, you've become so knowledgeable, Lady Catherine! I'm rather impressed."

Indeed, if she continued to work this hard, she could catch up to Briana soon! No, that was too generous, for Briana was a bright child and learned quickly. With the eight-year-old as a benchmark, Catherine's accomplishments were truly a joke.

Was she really so stupid as to think she was speaking to us as equals? Did she somehow actually believe that she was of the same class as us, or that we would spare genuine compassion on something as lowly as her? I smirked and made it seem like I was complimenting her shallow comprehension of a poem I had written essays on by the time I was ten.

"Are you feeling fine, Valentina? You look a bit flushed."

"Yes, Delilah, thank you. It's awfully warm in here, isn't it?"

The greenhouse was heated magically, and with bright sunlight streaming through the glass ceilings, it was almost stifling, though it may have just been me. Nevertheless, with clear blue skies and sparkling snow carpeting the ground outside, it was a beautiful day for this terrible novel to end.

My throat was dry. I poured myself a glass of juice and drank it all, leaving the half-full cup of tea on the table, but it did not help much.

"The holy ceremonies this year were absolutely beautiful, as usual."

I wasn't sure which one of my wonderful friends brought up the topic, but I was appreciative to whoever it was, for Catherine's eyes widened and she practically shrank from the conversation, like a guilty puppy. Another reason that I had decided to play nice today. The better I was to Catherine, the worse her silly little conscience felt. She could barely look me in the eyes when she greeted me today, and even now, after stealing a quick glance at me and seeing that I had no considerable reaction to the theme, she kept her gaze down.

In the novel, this was when I had my engagement party with Oscar. It irked me to think back to the night we had for that event in this world, when he made me so naively think that perhaps he did care for me after all. Alas, it did not matter now. Any hope I once had in him had vanished, and though a tiny part of me believed that he might really love me in the years to come, after Catherine was long gone, it was largely irrelevant and I refused to entertain the possibility until she really had disappeared for good.

"Lady Delilah, we heard that you turned down another suitor recently?"

Another sensitive subject! Catherine's hand went to that ridiculous locket Damian had gotten her, though she and I were the only ones who knew the significance of the action. I enjoyed watching her squirm, but not the pain I knew Delilah must be suffering under her carefree replies. This would be her revenge as well, and then everything would finally return to the way it was supposed to be. No female lead, no male lead, no villainess. Just the victors and losers in a game of simple politics.

A ray of sunlight reflected off a glass panel the wrong way and hit my eyes, making me wince. I had to blink several times, and when I finally reopened them, there was a blurriness about the world.

"Valentina, are you certain that you're all right?"

"I may be tired from all the debutante balls recently, Annalise, but I don't think it's anything serious."

Delilah's and Annalise's concerns could be traced back to the letters I had sent them, masterfully crafted to tell the story I wanted for all the scrutiny they would soon pass through. Really, they must be some of my finest works, a perfect blend of saintly goodwill, empathetic care, reluctant but persisting fear, and a sincere plea for the receivers to watch my back against something that I just had a bad feeling about, though of course it was likely just me being overly anxious with the stress lately.

The conversation moved on to topics of less delicacy, and after a while of brooding, Catherine couldn't help but jump back in. Guilt still haunted her eyes, but her ceaseless optimism refused to be defeated, at least for now. It sickened me. I wanted to see those spirits utterly crushed and beaten, for her to feel the same helpless despair that she had caused the original Valentina, and for her to face misery worse than what any man was built for. Such was the consequence of going against an Avington.

Mikhail and Tia stood by the walls, with the rest of the maids and knights brought by the other guests. Both, after years of training and accompanying me, were perceptive enough to seem worried about my condition. At least an hour must've passed since that first cup of tea. A wave of dizziness washed over me.

"Excuse me, ladies, but I do seem to be ill, so I will be returning home."

Well-wishes were given and goodbyes were said, through which my speech became more and more slurred. Finally, as I got up, I almost lost my balance, though not ungracefully. My attendants came to my side at once. I staggered a few steps towards the exit until my body reached its limit.

I fainted into Mikhail's waiting arms. The last thing I saw was an expression of horror on Catherine's countenance.

Someone screamed. Tia cried out.

"My lady's been poisoned!"

Then, darkness.