The last time Vivienne saw her mother, Elise Moreau wore crimson lipstick and a black velvet dress, smelling of cardamom and secrets.
She remembered being six. Elise had kissed her forehead like a queen blessing her heir, whispered something Vivienne didn't understand, then vanished into the night like smoke curling through lace.
Now, more than a decade later, Vivienne stood on the marble steps of the Château Moreau in Geneva—her mother's ancestral home—draped in storm-gray wool and steel resolve. The air was sharp with the scent of pine and snow, but all Vivienne felt was the pulse in her throat.
Julien stood behind her, expression unreadable.
Damien waited in the car. He knew this wasn't his battle.
This was blood against blood.
Legacy versus defiance.
---
The butler recognized her at once.
No questions. No hesitation. Only a silent nod, and the opening of the great double doors.
The château was everything Vivienne remembered—grand, cold, and too quiet. The silence here was polished and controlled, like everything Elise ever touched.
She was waiting in the drawing room.
Hair swept into a French twist, cheekbones sharp, pearls at her throat.
She rose as Vivienne entered, not with warmth, but with elegance—like one royalty acknowledging another.
"Vivienne," Elise said softly. "You've grown into your name."
Vivienne didn't speak. She walked slowly across the room and placed the black case—the Winter Pact—on the grand piano.
Elise's lips parted just slightly.
"I see you found it."
"I found your signature," Vivienne said coldly.
"And your father's."
Elise moved to the liquor cabinet, pouring two glasses of Armagnac.
"You have questions."
"I have answers," Vivienne said, refusing the drink. "But I want the truth from you."
Elise turned, eyes honey-gold and unreadable. "Then ask."
Vivienne's voice didn't waver. "Why did you leave?"
Elise took a sip before answering. "Because love doesn't survive in empires built on blood. I loved your father. I loved you. But I couldn't love all three of us… and survive."
"You didn't even try."
"No," Elise admitted. "Because I knew what the Pact would do to you. And I thought leaving was mercy."
Vivienne clenched her fists. "You helped build the very world I've spent my life trying to escape."
Elise walked to the window. Outside, snow began to fall.
"I was raised for this life. You weren't."
"But I inherited it anyway."
They stood in silence.
Then Elise said, quietly, "You're here to destroy it."
Vivienne nodded. "The Pact. The houses. The system."
Elise smiled faintly. "Good."
Vivienne blinked.
"What?"
"I've been waiting," Elise said. "All these years. I knew you would come. I knew you'd try to burn it down. And I prayed you'd be strong enough to succeed where I couldn't."
Vivienne stared at her mother—this woman who was both ghost and architect—and for a moment, something fractured in her chest.
"I hated you," Vivienne whispered. "Every day."
Elise nodded. "You had to. Or you'd never have survived."
---
Julien cleared his throat behind them.
"Elise," he said, "Valentin is gone. But Father Lev is not. He wants the Pact. And Vivienne's planning to leak it."
Elise raised an eyebrow. "That won't be enough."
Vivienne narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"
"Exposing them won't topple the houses," Elise said. "They'll deny, disappear, buy their way out of consequences. If you truly want to end them…"
She walked to her desk and opened a drawer.
"…you need their current locations. Their assets. Their vaults. Everything."
She handed Vivienne a flash drive.
"My final gift."
Vivienne took it slowly.
Elise smiled. "This doesn't make me good. It makes me useful."
Vivienne met her gaze. "I'll take useful."
---
That night, back in the car, Damien looked at her carefully.
"Well?" he asked. "Is she on our side?"
Vivienne stared out the window, fingers tight around the flash drive.
"She's on her own side," she murmured. "But for once, it aligns with mine."
She looked down at the drive, her reflection catching in the glass.
"And that means the real war starts now."