Chapter 7

Richard nodded approvingly. "You're getting married. You should stay home and rest."

Vivienne's fingers went bone-white.

"That company was Mom's. It's mine. How did you decide to hand it off without asking me?"

Julian didn't blink. "Because I have equity in it. I have the standing to decide."

"Rest up. Doctor says you're weak. Don't worry about the company."

The door closed. She finally let herself cry. One clean line of tears down the side of her face and onto the pillow.

The photograph. The company. Every single thing her mother had left her—she hadn't managed to save any of it.

Killian started coming by every day. He looked at her like she was something precious and broken and held her gently. "Don't worry. Once we're married, everything you lost is ours. No one can take anything from you again."

It didn't move her anymore.

To cheer her up he began ordering designer plush teddies by the case. They filled her bedroom. He had the whole space redone in the soft pink she used to love. It became the one place in the Ashford estate where she could breathe.

Until the afternoon she woke up from a nap and heard Celeste's voice through her own bedroom door.

"You give her all these stuffed animals. What about me?" Petulant. Hurt.

Through the gauze drapes, two silhouettes leaning into each other.

Killian's voice, tight and guilty. "Cece. She's inside. Let's go somewhere else."

Celeste gave a low, delighted huff. "I don't want to. She's asleep. Why are you scared? You give her teddies and not me. Fine. I'm leaving."

She started to turn. Killian glanced into the dim room, saw nothing moving, and pulled Celeste back against him. His voice dropped, indulgent. "Silly girl. If you want them, I'll buy you some."

Celeste's fingers traced up his chest, his throat. "But Killian—I want this right here. Are you going to give me this?"

He caught her hand. His voice cooled. "Cece. Behave."

She pouted, wounded. "But I want it here."

He softened again. "I'll buy you anything—just not here."

Celeste's eyes slid toward the door to Vivienne's room. Her lips curved. Then she lifted her face and kissed him.

He swallowed and tried to pull away. "Let's go somewhere else."

"We've been doing it everywhere," she whispered, smiling. "I put scented diffusers in the hall. She won't smell a thing."

He let out a long breath, then dragged her by the back of the neck. "You little witch."

Low sounds. Skin. Breath.

Vivienne, numb, felt it cut her open all over again.

When they finally left, she crawled to the wastebasket and threw up until there was nothing left.

It happened for several days. Every time she was supposed to be napping, Killian and Celeste were somewhere against her walls.

She recorded all of it.

Then she moved out. She couldn't look at that bedroom without wanting to burn it.

Killian showed up at her new place, frantic. "Vivi. Why did you move?"

She stared at him. "Because it was dirty."

The color drained from his face. She gave a thin, slow smile.

"A dirty room should be cleaned, don't you think?"

His shoulders dropped in quiet relief. Something felt off to him, he couldn't name what. "Right. It should."

Privately he was annoyed. No more games in her room now, with her gone.

Guilt fluttered back. "Vivi. The engagement's coming up soon. I'm going to give you a wedding they won't forget."

Her mouth twitched. "Before the engagement, I'm going to give you a little surprise."

He pulled her close, smiling wide. "What kind of surprise?"

"You'll see."

He gave a little startled laugh and wrapped his arms tighter around her. "Vivi. I am losing my mind wanting you."

She didn't say anything. Only she knew there wasn't going to be an engagement. She was disappearing on Celeste's birthday. Five days left.

After he left she called a private investigator. Watching out the window, she said calmly: "I want eyes on him."

Day one: she got the first packet. Killian had driven to Ashford Media and picked Celeste up. They had gone to The Carlyle. He hadn't come home until the small hours.

There were photographs. A series of intimate, nude-adjacent shots. She looked at them. She walked into the bedroom, gathered every single one of the teddies Killian had bought her, took them down to the estate's firepit, and burned them.

Day two: Julian had known all along. He had known Killian was sleeping with Celeste. He had even flown to Paris himself to buy Celeste a pendant.

She read the report without changing expression. Then she started stripping her old bedroom at the Ashford estate. Every trace of herself. She clipped herself out of every family portrait and replaced her face with Celeste's.

Day three: she packed three large trunks of her clothes. Killian and Julian walked in laughing at something, saw the trunks, and stopped dead.

Killian's right eyelid twitched. Something in him went on alert. Something was slipping.