Chapter 2

"Where are we going?"

His face softened with something that wasn't for her. "It's your father's birthday. Celeste has been planning the gala all month."

At the name, her pupils contracted. She went silent.

When Celeste had first moved in, Vivienne had been kind to her. Clothes, jewelry, whatever Celeste liked she gave her without a second thought. Celeste had stared back with open hostility. Vivienne hadn't known yet that Celeste was her father's daughter.

When Richard walked into the room Celeste would hang off his arm and lift her chin at Vivienne in triumph.

Her father had said, "Celeste grew up without a father. You're the older sister. Be generous."

She had softened. She had tried. Celeste stayed sharp with her every time. After a few rejections she gave up.

Seven months ago Celeste put her in Blackwell. Seven months, and only today was she out.

A few days ago her father had called her for the first time. "Vivi, this was just a lesson. You should be thanking Celeste for her mercy."

"She grew up without a father. She was lost out there in Europe for years. You've had everything. Try to be a sister to her."

As if the problem had been her.

She had reached out to Celeste, again and again, after she had learned the truth. Celeste had kept cutting her. Then Celeste had staged an assassination on herself and framed Vivienne for it. Seven months at Blackwell had hollowed her out. She only wanted one thing now: to leave.

Killian, receiving no answer, seemed to realize he had gone too far.

"Celeste has been waiting a long time to see you. She wanted tonight to go well. That's why I was hard on you."

"And anyway, you started this—"

"I understand," she cut in. She turned to the window.

Outside, the city blurred past. She unclenched her fingers and let out a slow breath.

She had known him since childhood. She had believed, stupidly, that they were one mind. And the second Celeste had walked into the house he had believed everything she said, and none of what Vivienne said. He had decided Vivienne was the monster.

There was no point in explaining anymore. He wouldn't believe her. Her father didn't want her. She forced the tears back and pulled the corners of her mouth into something that wasn't quite a smile.

It was fine. In five days, on Celeste's birthday, she would disappear from their lives for good.

It was her father's birthday. Halfway there she asked Killian to pull over so she could pick up a gift. He refused without looking at her.

"There's no time. The gift doesn't matter."

The car pulled up to the ballroom. Killian went to park. A moment later her phone buzzed with a text from him telling her to go in alone.

Soft music drifted through the grand ballroom of The Plaza. Vivienne had barely crossed the threshold when Margot Pemberton swept over with her entourage, chin up, nose wrinkled as if she had smelled something rotten.

"Vivienne. No manners at all. Are the Ashfords really that broke? Not a single piece of jewelry? You're an embarrassment to all of us."

The girls behind her giggled on cue. "The Ashford heiress. Somehow she can't even measure up to her sister."

Margot laughed, delighted with herself. "And you're supposed to be the daughter of the great Seraphina Ashford. Except you turned out worse than a girl raised by the mistress. No wonder Richard strayed."

Seraphina Ashford had swept every major award in her era. Vivienne's father had fallen for her on sight and pursued her like a man possessed until she'd agreed to marry him. She had retired at the height of her career to have Vivienne, and died in a car crash when Vivienne was sixteen.

While Vivienne had been locked up, paparazzi had caught Richard with another woman over and over. The press had eventually identified her: Delphine Laurent, Celeste's mother.

Vivienne had confronted him. "How can you do this? What about Mom?"

Richard's face had changed, gone cold. "If I'd really cared about your mother, I would have smothered you in the crib instead of raising you. Because if it weren't for you, she'd still be alive."

The words still cut her open. After her mother died her father had turned on her. He had decided, like everyone else, that the crash was somehow her fault.

If she hadn't asked her mother to run out for a birthday cake, maybe none of it would have happened. But it was too late to rewrite.

Her mother was the one subject Vivienne couldn't bear. She didn't let anyone speak against her.

Knowing Margot was baiting her on purpose didn't matter. She slapped her.

"Shut up. Don't talk about my mother."

"And even if I'm not officially the heiress anymore, I still sit on Ashford Media's board. You don't have the standing to say a word to me."

Margot's eyes went red. "You bitch. My father won't let this go."

Vivienne's voice was level, a thin smile at the corner of her mouth. "I'm ready."

Then, from behind her, a gentle, cultured voice: "Vivi. What are you doing over here?"

Her whole body locked up. Every emotion she had buried in seven months surged up at once. She turned with tears gathering in her eyes.

One look, and the blood in her veins turned to ice.