Chapter 8

He crossed the room. "Vivi. What is this?"

Julian's eyes tracked the trunks. He spotted clothes in there he had personally given her. His jaw tightened. He waited for her answer.

They were watching her too closely. She reached for something light. "The engagement's coming up. I'm organizing."

Both of them exhaled.

Julian lifted a velvet box. "I brought you something from Paris."

She opened it. A pendant. The same one he had bought Celeste.

"Thanks."

He frowned a little. She used to light up when he brought her gifts. He couldn't remember when she had last smiled.

Killian held up a crimson gown. "I picked it out for you. You said you didn't feel like shopping."

She looked at it for a long second. She had seen that dress. On Celeste. In one of the PI's photographs. And she had always worn pale colors.

"I don't like bright colors. Celeste does."

Killian's face froze. He scrambled. "I thought you girls liked that kind of thing. I'll take you shopping for something you like."

A small, distant smile. "It's fine. I won't need it."

"What do you mean you won't—" His phone buzzed. Julian's buzzed at the same moment. They exchanged a glance, then turned to her. "Vivi. Something came up at the office. We'll be back."

They walked out. Twenty minutes later her PI pinged her: photographs of them with Celeste.

It was Christmas. Richard had taken Delphine somewhere. The house was empty and cold. And at Julian's estate in the Hamptons, fireworks were going up over the water. In the photograph Julian was ruffling Celeste's hair with the fondness he used to save for Vivienne.

She stood at the window of her new apartment and watched the sky. Fine, she thought. If they don't want me, I don't want them either.

Day four: she sold every dress from the three trunks, turned the money into a wire transfer, and donated all of it to a children's literacy foundation upstate. Her apartment was empty.

Richard stopped by and actually paused. "What's going on?"

She brushed it off. "Getting engaged soon. Tidying up early."

The ridiculous thing was the household staff had all noticed she was leaving. Her family hadn't noticed a thing.

Richard believed her without a second thought and turned to leave.

She called after him. She was standing in the light of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Her voice was very soft.

"Dad. That's the last time I'll call you that."

For one confused second he saw Seraphina as she had been at twenty.

He shook it off. His face softened a little. "Once you're married, settle down. Nobody's going to bail you out after that."

She dipped her head. A thin, ironic smile.

Day five: the whole city was preparing for Celeste's coming-out party.

Vivienne was busy too. She uploaded the full archive of Killian's affair to a distribution network she had paid small fortunes to arrange. Videos. Screenshots. Audio. She bought ad space on every digital billboard from Times Square to Midtown. By eight o'clock tonight, every person in New York would know what Killian Thorne and Celeste Ashford had been doing behind her back.

More than that: she had spent the last weeks quietly building an airtight case against Celeste for the assassination setup. Every piece of evidence was authenticated and ready to drop.

By the time anyone understood, she would be in the air. Richard was supposed to announce Celeste's legitimacy at her party tonight. Vivienne already had her ticket. She was flying tonight.

On the private island off the Hamptons, Killian was circling the crowd, unsettled. He couldn't find Vivienne. Finally he cornered Julian. Julian told him she had said she wasn't feeling well.

Killian stared. "Vivienne? Not feeling well?"

Julian's handsome face flickered with irritation. "She's sulking somewhere. Who knows."

"You're not worried about her?"

Julian blinked, surprised by the question. "She's always been high-strung. She's having a tantrum over Celeste again. Since when do you interrogate me about her? It's Celeste's birthday. Don't ruin it."

Killian's face went cold. "Julian. She's your sister."

His fist clenched. "She hasn't been herself since she got out. And today she's suddenly not here. None of this bothers you?"

Julian stopped. His smile died. He didn't answer.

Killian turned away and started calling Vivienne. She didn't pick up. His right eyelid had been twitching since morning. Some feeling had been sitting under his sternum all day, and it was getting worse.

He had been too busy with Celeste's birthday to spend any real time with her this week. He tried to remember the last time she had said anything to him. He couldn't.

I'll make it up to her when we get back, he thought.

His phone lit up with a message from his assistant. "Mr. Thorne. You and Miss Celeste are trending. You need to look at this."

Trending? What could he and Celeste possibly be—

He tapped the link. The world went white.

Photograph after photograph. Hotel lobbies. Parking garages. Bedrooms. Him with his mouth on Celeste's neck. Comments thousands deep, tearing him apart.

"Kill it," he said into the phone. "Pull every post. Kill everything. Vivienne cannot see this." His voice shook at the end. "She can't see this. She can't—"

He tried to convince himself. It's fine. Get it down fast enough.

"Mr. Thorne—" his assistant's voice was thin, "—the reach is too big. We can't contain it."

He smashed his phone into the pavement. "Useless."

He paid people. They bought space. The story was pushed off trending. It came back within twenty minutes. He spent another hour throwing money at it. The trending slot refilled.

Finally he opened iMessage to her. "Vivi. None of that online is real. I have nothing to do with her. You have to believe me."

She had hated cheating men since they were kids. He couldn't let this be the first thing she saw.

He pressed send.

A line appeared under the message:

You have been blocked by this contact.