Vivienne's POV
Marcus is going to be okay.
That's what the doctor tells us after three hours of surgery. Broken leg, broken ribs, concussion. But he'll survive.
Damien hasn't left his brother's side. I stand in the corner of the hospital room, watching him hold Marcus's hand while the younger man sleeps. The powerful CEO looks so small right now. So human. So broken.
"You should go home," I say quietly. "Get some rest."
"I can't leave him." Damien's voice is rough from crying. I've never seen him cry before. "He's all I have left."
The words hang in the air. He's all I have left.
Not "you're all I have." Not "we're all each other has." Just his brother.
I understand now. I've always been on the outside. Even in this moment, even after everything, I'm still the outsider looking in at Damien's real life.
"I'm going to go," I say.
Damien looks up, panic flashing in his eyes. "No. Stay. Please."
"Why? So you can ignore me while you focus on what actually matters?" The words come out bitter. "I've been doing that for seven years. I think I'm done."
"Vivienne—"
But I'm already walking out. I can't do this anymore. I can't be the person who's always waiting, always hoping, always second place.
I take a cab back to my hotel. I pack my things. And the next morning, I find a tiny apartment across town and move in.
It's small. The walls are thin. The heater barely works. But it's mine. For the first time in seven years, I have something that's completely mine.
I'm unpacking boxes when my phone buzzes. A text from Damien: "Where are you? The hotel says you checked out."
I ignore it.
Another text: "Please tell me where you are. I need to know you're safe."
I turn off my phone.
For three days, I ignore him. I ignore his calls, his texts, his emails. I focus on making my tiny apartment feel like home. I buy cheap furniture. I hang curtains. I fill the fridge with food I actually want to eat.
It feels good. It feels like freedom.
On the fourth morning, I wake up to someone knocking on my door.
I open it, ready to yell at whoever's bothering me this early.
Damien is standing there holding two cups of coffee.
"How did you find me?" I demand.
"I hired an investigator." He holds out one of the cups. "Can I come in?"
"No."
"Please? Five minutes. That's all I'm asking."
Against my better judgment, I take the coffee and step aside. He walks in, looking around my tiny apartment. I wait for him to make some comment about how small it is. How cheap. How different from the penthouse.
But he doesn't. He just says, "It suits you. It feels warm."
I don't know what to say to that.
"How's Marcus?" I ask instead.
"Better. He woke up yesterday. He's asking about you." Damien sits down on my secondhand couch. "He says to tell you that you were right. That I'm an idiot."
"He's not wrong."
"I know." Damien looks at me. Really looks at me. "I'm sorry. About the hospital. About everything. I didn't mean to make you feel like you don't matter. You matter more than anything."
"Actions speak louder than words, Damien."
"You're right. So let me show you." He stands up. "Give me another chance. The month we agreed on. Let me prove that I can be different."
"The month is over. You lost it when you left me at the hotel to meet with Celeste."
"I wasn't meeting with her! She ambushed me in the parking lot. I was trying to get rid of her when you saw us." His frustration is showing now. "She's been stalking me, Vivienne. Following me. Showing up everywhere I go. I've told her to leave me alone, but she won't listen."
"And I'm supposed to just believe that?"
"Yes!" He runs his hand through his hair. "Because it's the truth. Because I love you. Because—" He stops. Takes a breath. "Because I'm begging you. Give me one more chance."
I want to say no. I want to tell him to leave. I want to protect my heart from getting broken again.
But there's something in his eyes. Something desperate and real and raw.
"Fine," I say. "One month. Starting today. But Damien? If you mess this up, if you choose work over me one more time, if you so much as look at Celeste—we're done. Forever. No second chances. No third chances. Done."
Relief floods his face. "Thank you. I won't let you down. I promise."
"We'll see."
He leaves, and I stand there with my coffee, wondering if I just made the biggest mistake of my life.
But then, the next morning, he shows up again. With coffee. And a muffin.
"Thought you might be hungry," he says.
The morning after that, he's there again. And the morning after that.
For a week straight, Damien Sterling shows up at my door every morning with coffee. He doesn't try to come in. He doesn't ask for anything. He just makes sure I have coffee and leaves.
On day eight, I find flowers on my doorstep when I leave for work.
On day nine, there's a note: "I'm thinking about you. - D"
On day ten, he's waiting outside my building when I get home from work.
"What are you doing here?" I ask.
"Making sure you get home safely." He's leaning against his expensive car like he has nowhere else to be.
"You've been waiting here all day?"
"Just a few hours." He shrugs like it's nothing. "I cleared my schedule."
"Cleared your schedule? You never clear your schedule."
"I'm learning to prioritize differently." He opens his car door. "Can I drive you somewhere? Dinner maybe?"
"I have food at home."
"Then can I keep you company while you walk upstairs? Just to make sure you're safe?"
I should say no. But instead, I say, "Fine. But only to the door."
He walks me upstairs. We stand outside my apartment door in awkward silence.
"Thank you for the coffee," I say. "And the flowers. And... everything."
"I meant what I said." His voice is soft. "I'm going to prove that you matter. Every single day."
"Why now, Damien? Why are you finally trying after seven years of not trying?"
"Because I almost lost you." He steps closer. "Because for seven years, I told myself I was protecting you by keeping you away. But I was really just protecting myself. I was scared of needing you. Scared of loving you. Scared of losing you the way I lost my parents."
"So what changed?"
"You left." His voice breaks. "And I realized that keeping you safe meant nothing if you weren't mine. I realized that I'd rather have one day of really being with you than a lifetime of pretending I don't need you."
I can feel tears burning my eyes. "You hurt me, Damien. For seven years, you hurt me."
"I know. And I'll spend the rest of my life making up for it if you let me." He reaches out slowly, giving me time to pull away. When I don't, his hand cups my face gently. "I love you, Vivienne. I've loved you since the night we met. I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."
"One month," I whisper. "You have one month to prove it."
"I'll prove it every day for the rest of our lives."
He leans in slowly. His lips brush mine so softly I barely feel it. It's not a passionate kiss. It's a promise. A beginning.
When he pulls back, he's smiling. Really smiling. I don't think I've ever seen him smile like that.
"Goodnight, Vivienne."
"Goodnight."
He walks away, and I go inside my apartment. My phone buzzes immediately.
A text from Damien: "Already miss you."
Despite everything, I smile.
Maybe this month won't be so bad after all.
But then I see another text. From the unknown number. The one that's been tormenting me with photos and information.
"He's lying to you. Want to know what he's really doing when he's not with you? Check the attachment."
My hands shake as I open the attachment.
It's a video. The timestamp says it's from two hours ago—right when Damien said he was "clearing his schedule."
The video shows Damien walking into a building downtown. Not his office. Not the hospital. Somewhere else.
And walking in right behind him, with a big smile on her face, is Celeste.
The video zooms in on them disappearing through the door together.
Another text: "Still believe him?"
I stare at my phone, my heart breaking all over again.
He lied. He's been lying this whole time.
The coffee. The flowers. The sweet words. All of it was just an act.
My phone rings. It's Damien.
I don't answer.
It rings again. And again. And again.
Finally, I pick up. "What?"
"Vivienne, I don't know what you just saw or what someone just sent you, but I can explain—"
"Explain what? That you were with Celeste two hours ago when you said you were clearing your schedule for me?"
Silence on the other end.
"That's what I thought," I say. "The month is over, Damien. Don't come back."
"No, wait—"
I hang up and block his number.
Then I sit down on my couch and finally let myself cry. Really cry. The kind of crying that hurts your chest and makes it hard to breathe.
I've been such a fool.
But I'm done being a fool. I'm done hoping. I'm done believing.
I'm just done.
My phone buzzes one more time. The unknown number: "You deserve better. I can help you destroy him. Make him pay for what he's done. Interested?"
I stare at the message for a long time.
Destroy him. Make him pay.
Part of me wants to. Part of me wants to hurt him the way he's hurt me.
I type back: "Who are you?"
The response comes immediately: "A friend. Someone who knows what it's like to be betrayed by the people you trust. Meet me tomorrow. I'll tell you everything. And I'll give you the tools to make Damien Sterling regret ever lying to you."
An address follows. A coffee shop across town.
I shouldn't go. I know I shouldn't go.
But I'm so angry. So hurt. So tired of being the victim.
Maybe it's time to fight back.