Chapter 4

“I’ll have a vehicle waiting for you by the north gate at midnight,” my father’s longtime fixer said without hesitation. “Keep your head down and make sure no one sees you, Miss Vivienne.”

“That has always been my specialty,” I murmured before ending the call.

I tucked the satellite phone and silver flash drive into the concealed compartment of my makeup bag, then turned toward the wardrobe. Damian had specifically told me to wear the blue silk dress. The Vivienne I used to be would have thrown the thing straight out the window. But I had learned something in those two years: revenge was easier when you looked exactly like the person your enemy expected you to be.

I put on the dress, carefully brushed my hair until it shone, then pinched my cheeks to bring some color back into my pale complexion. When I faced the mirror, I no longer saw the helpless woman Damian had convinced everyone I was.

I saw a weapon waiting for the right moment to fire.

At precisely eight, I made my way down the sweeping staircase and found Damian and Seraphina already seated at the long mahogany table. Seraphina had practically curled herself against Damian, speaking quietly into his ear as though the two of them were the only people in the world.

They both fell silent when I entered.

I kept my gaze lowered and deliberately rounded my shoulders, making myself appear timid and fragile—the exact image of the broken woman their lies had created.

“Vivienne.” Damian looked me over with the smug satisfaction of a man inspecting something he believed belonged to him. “You clean up nicely. Come and sit down.”

I took the chair opposite them.

The private chef served the lobster risotto, and the meal began beneath an uncomfortable silence. I lifted my fork and forced myself to swallow a few bites despite the nausea twisting inside me.

“We have quite a bit to arrange,” Damian said eventually, lazily rotating the wineglass between his fingers. “The board wants us seen together in public, so we're moving the wedding forward. Saturday.”

Four days.

He wasn't wasting any time.

Damian wanted the remaining forty percent of my father's trust as quickly as possible.

Across the table, Seraphina gave me a knowing smile before taking another drink of sparkling water.

“I've already spoken with the tailors,” she said. “They're coming tomorrow to take your measurements. We can't have you looking half-dead in the wedding photographs, can we?”

I slowly raised my eyes to Damian.

Then I let them fill with tears.

I reached back into every memory of those two years, every moment of fear and humiliation, and allowed just enough of it to show on my face.

“Whatever you think is right,” I whispered, making my voice tremble. “I just want to do what I'm supposed to. I don't want them to send me back there.”

Damian visibly relaxed.

The fool believed every word.

His expression softened with self-satisfaction as he reached across the table and placed his hand over mine.

“Then you have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Follow my rules, and you'll never have to see the inside of that hospital again.”

I gave him a small, frightened smile.

And neither will you, I thought.

Because the next place you're going is prison.

The rest of dinner became an exercise in patience. I endured Seraphina's carefully disguised insults, listened to Damian dictate how I was expected to behave, and played the obedient fiancée they wanted to see.

At ten, I finally excused myself, blaming the medication for the exhaustion weighing down my body.

Once I was alone, I waited in darkness and watched the clock inch toward midnight.

At 11:50, I picked up the small duffel bag I had prepared earlier. Inside were some of my father's emergency cash, the silver drive, and the burner phone.

I slipped through the French doors onto the balcony and climbed down the ivy-covered trellis toward the garden. I hadn't used that escape route since I was a reckless teenager sneaking out of the estate.

Tonight, it was the only way out.

The cold night air bit into my skin as a thin drizzle began to fall. I kept my head down and hurried across the perfectly manicured grounds toward the north gate, praying the guards wouldn't notice me.

My heart pounded so violently that I could hear it in my ears.

If Damian caught me trying to escape, I'd be back in that hospital before morning.

I finally reached the iron gates and slipped through the narrow pedestrian entrance, emerging onto the empty mountain road beyond the estate.

Then headlights appeared through the fog.

A black Maybach approached without a sound before coming to a smooth stop directly in front of me. The rear door opened.

I didn't stop to question it.

I threw my bag inside and climbed into the warm leather interior, pulling the door shut behind me. Almost immediately, the car accelerated into the darkness.

“Thank God.” I breathed out shakily, rainwater dripping from my hair. “I have the drive. We need to get somewhere secure before—”

My words died in my throat.

The man sitting across from me wasn't Victor.

He was far younger than my father's old fixer, with a striking face and the kind of presence that immediately commanded the entire space around him. Dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit, he sat comfortably with one leg crossed over the other, a glass of amber liquor balanced loosely in his hand.

Then his gray eyes met mine.

Cold. Sharp. Unreadable.

I knew that face.

Everyone in the city did.

Alexander Martin.

The billionaire CEO of Martin Enterprises, my father's most formidable business rival, and the one man Damian feared more than anyone else.

“You're not Victor,” I said quietly, my hand instinctively moving toward the door.

“Victor answers to me these days.” Alexander took an unhurried sip, never breaking eye contact. “He told me about the heiress who disappeared from the world for two years and has apparently returned with enough anger to bring Damian down.”

The corner of his mouth lifted.

“I found that rather interesting.”

“Open the door.”

My pulse was racing, but I forced my voice to remain firm. “I don't negotiate with men like you.”

Alexander gave a quiet laugh that held no warmth.

He leaned toward me, and the passing streetlights briefly illuminated the hard lines of his face.

“You're not in a position to negotiate, Vivienne. Damian has influence over the doctors, the police, and the people who decide whether you're sane enough to speak for yourself. If you disappear, he'll find you. And once he does, you'll be back behind those doors indefinitely.”

His gaze briefly dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes.

“There is, however, one thing Damian cannot take from you.”

My brow furrowed. “And what exactly is that?”

“Protection.”

Alexander reached inside his jacket and withdrew a thick legal document, placing it between us.

“Damian needs to marry you before Saturday if he wants access to your father's trust,” he explained, his voice almost conversational. “So if we're going to destroy everything he's built, we need to take away the one thing he believes he already owns.”

He leaned back, and a slow, dangerous smile appeared on his face.

“Tomorrow morning, Vivienne, you're going to marry me.”