Chapter 4: A Memorized Script 

Violet stood by the large window of the West Estate, staring out into lawns so well-manicured they extended far beyond what she would ever have dreamed possible. It still felt surreal being here, living a life of luxury she'd only ever seen in movies. The plush carpet beneath her bare feet was soft, and the scent of polished wood and fresh flowers filled the air. Everything in this place screamed wealth.

But to Violet, it wasn't home-it was just another set, another role to play.

She turned away from the window as the study door creaked open. Clyde walked in, a large envelope in his hand. His expression was serious, the playful smirk she had seen a few times now replaced with something far more businesslike. He held out the envelope toward her.

These are the papers I was telling you about," he said, all business. "I need you to commit them to memory. This is your backstory."

Violet reached for the envelope hesitantly, already feeling the weight in what was inside, even before opening it. She walked over to the desk, sat down slowly, pulling out the thick stack of papers with deliberate care.

She scanned it for the first couple of pages, reading bits and pieces aloud. "Violet West… adopted at age five. studied at the University of Toronto… double major in business and marketing…"

Violet stopped reading, narrowing her eyes. She lifted her head to face Clyde, who was standing across from her, arms crossed as he watched her. "University of Toronto?" she repeated. "Double major in business and marketing?

Clyde nodded. "Yes, that is your background now. It is what my father knows, and it's important you know it too."

Violet set the papers down, shaking her head. "I never even went to community college, let alone university. And adopted? What is this? I can't memorize all this. It's not who I am.".

Clyde sighed, frustration evident, but his tone remained even. "I told you; this is part of the deal. You're playing a role, Violet. I need you to be professional about this.

Violet stood, folding her arms. "If you really want me to do this, make it real. You're asking me to lie, be a person I am not. If you want me to convince your father, then we need to stick with something that is near the truth. Something I can manage to pull off without tripping up on every word.

Clyde walked over to her, his face softening as he considered her words. "I get that this isn't easy. But my father already has this idea of who you are in his mind. We can't just change it now."

Violet's face set in a grimace as she paced around the room. "I'm not some sort of actress who can just put on a persona. Not like this. If you want realism in this, then you have to give me something actual to build on. Real information, real memories. Something I can draw upon. Not some fabricated tale.

Clyde said nothing for a few moments as he watched her pace before saying more. "Fine. Tell me what you need. We'll tweak the details, but I cannot change everything. The University of Toronto stays. My father was so proud when I told him you graduated from there. He has always had this dream of you being well-educated, successful.

Violet stopped her pacing and turned around; her arms still crossed. "Okay, but I can't say I studied business and marketing. That's just… no. That isn't anything I could ever bluff my way through knowing."

Clyde gave a small, thoughtful nod. "What would you have wanted to study? If you could've gone to school?"

Violet was quiet for a moment, her eyes drifting away. "Art," she said at last, softer now. "I always wanted to be an artist. But… that didn't happen."

Clyde raised one eyebrow, interest on his face. "Art, huh? Interesting.

Violet met his gaze without flinching. "If I'm going to play your long-lost sister, allow me to be the version of her that could have been me. Give me that, and I'll do it. I'll commit to memory what I have to, and I will convince your father.

Clyde rubbed the back of his neck, clearly torn between sticking to his carefully crafted story and making this work for both of them. After a moment, he sighed and walked over to the desk, pulling out a pen. He crossed out a few lines on the papers and scribbled down some notes.

"Ah, bien. You studied art," he said, looking up to her with a slight smirk. "But the rest stays. You're still adopted. You still went to university. We can make this work."

Violet nodded just a little, the calmness washing over her. She went back to the desk, picking up the papers once more and reading over the newly added details. It was still a lot to take in, but it felt like something she could handle now.

Clyde leaned back against the desk, watching her. "You wanted it real. Now it's as close to the truth as we can get."

Violet looked up at him, an eyebrow rising. "And what about you? What's your story in all of this?"

Clyde's face turned darker, his eyes setting just a fraction harder. "This isn't about me," he said, his tone quieter. "This is about my father's last wish.

She didn't press further; in his tone, she sensed the boundaries. She turned her attention back to the papers, reading through the details, trying to embed them into her memory. The situation still seemed unreal, like some wild dream, but she had agreed to it. And she needed the money. So, if this was how she had to earn it, then she'd make it work.

Clyde watched her silently for a few moments, then walked over to her again. He leaned down slightly, his voice soft but firm. "Remember, Violet you're a professional now; there's no role you can't play."

Violet smirked slightly, though her heart still lingered on doubt. "Yeah, sure," she muttered under her breath. "I've played extras in background scenes, Clyde. This is a whole different level of acting."

Clyde straightened up, his eyes locking into hers. "Perhaps. But you are capable of more than you think. You just need to believe it."

Violet didn't say a word, but the sentence hung in the air between them. Could she really pull this off? Could she make his father-and everyone else-think she was this long-lost sister? The doubts clawed at her brain, but she pressed them down. She had no choice. Not anymore.

The day blended together. Clyde left her to her own devices for most of the afternoon, giving her time to commit the story to memory, to settle into her new reality. The West Estate was quiet, too quiet, and Violet missed the constant din of the city, the sounds of people and traffic that usually filled her silence.

By evening, Violet was just exhausted. Her head had been aching with all the memorizing; she was drained from the emotional rollercoaster over the last few days. None of her imagination had ever considered her life taking such a sharp turn-pre masquerading as someone she wasn't for a man she barely knew, just to fulfill his dying father's last wish.

Later that night, Clyde came to her room, knocking on the door but stepping in without waiting for her to say anything. He leaned against the doorway, crossing his arms as he looked at her.

"How's it going?" he asked, softer now, no more businesslike tones.

Violet shrugged, laying down the papers she had gone over what felt like the hundredth time. "I think I got most it down," she said, though her tone wasn't quite sure.

Clyde nodded. His eyes stayed on her a second longer before he spoke again. "Tomorrow, we will go back to the hospital. Father's condition has worsened, and he'll need to see you again.

Her heart flip-flopped at the very thought of being pushed back into Richard West's company. What if he saw right through her? What if she forgot something, slipped up on a detail, or just said something wrong?

But she swallowed her fear and made herself be calm. "I'll be ready," she said, her voice more even than she felt.

Clyde gave her a small smile, one of those rare reassurances that she was doing well. "Good. You're doing great, Violet. Better than I expected."

Violet cocked an eyebrow up at him, smirking. "That's the third time you've said that."

Clyde chuckled, shaking his head. "Maybe I just didn't give you enough credit.

Violet smiled weakly, but her misgivings still lingered. She hadn't the foggiest how she had landed in such a strange fix, but one thing was plain as day: there was no going back on it now. She would have to see it through for better or worse.

As Clyde let himself out of her room, the clicking shut of the door behind him drew out a very slow, very long breath in Violet. Tomorrow, she would face Richard West again. And tomorrow, she would have to be someone else entirely.