Chapter 5

Damian’s eyes were slightly narrowed. There was no hint of joking in them; they were like a deep, dark pool waiting for its prey to jump in.

If this had been thirty minutes ago, I would have thought this man was completely insane or just playing with me.

But now, I was Vivian Vance, reborn from the ashes.

Since Julian had personally destroyed my life, I had nothing left to lose.

Instead of dragging myself through the mud with them, I might as well ride this hurricane and burn down their entire hypocritical world.

"Damian."

My voice sounded terrifyingly calm, though it carried a slight tremble of a high-stakes gamble.

"I don't want a fake title. I want real power. I want full control over all of Thorne’s fashion resources. I want veto power for Lumina."

I paused, looking directly into his sharp gaze.

"And, I want Julian to regret every single choice he made tonight. If you can give me that, forget being Mrs. Thorne—you can have my life."

Damian laughed.

It wasn't the lazy smirk from before, but a deep, genuinely amused laugh rumbling from his chest.

It was a predatory, dominant laugh, full of appreciation for a wild animal showing its claws.

"Why would I want your life?"

He reached out, his long fingers slowly fixing my messy hair. His rough thumb brushed against my earlobe, sending a shiver down my spine.

"What I want is to see this wild cat show her claws and scratch people's faces off."

"As for the rest..."

He took half a step back, bending his elbow in a polite, aristocratic gesture, though his words were wildly arrogant:

"As long as you dare to ask, I will hand you the entire city on a silver platter."

I took a deep breath and slid my hand through his arm without hesitation.

Since the choice was made, there was no going back.

From this moment on, I was Vivian Vance, and I was the sharpest blade in Damian Thorne’s hand.

"Let’s go, Mrs. Thorne," Damian whispered in my ear. "Your dress might be dirty right now, but I promise you, you’ll still be the brightest star tonight. And that ruined piece of trash over there? I’ll make sure it becomes Julian’s biggest nightmare."

The grand doors of the banquet hall were right ahead.

Behind those heavy mahogany doors lay the high-society playground where Julian and Chloe were put on their pathetic little show.

But I wasn't afraid anymore.

Because I knew that when those doors opened, I wouldn't be standing alone.

Inside the hall, the atmosphere was peaceful.

Julian had changed into a backup suit. With a polite smile and a glass of champagne in hand, he was surrounded by a crowd of ass-kissing elites.

Next to him, Chloe was wearing a simple dress Julian had borrowed from somewhere. She was doing what she did best—looking like a fragile, terrified little flower, drawing the protective instincts of every man in the room.

"Mr. Kingsley is such a gentleman. This Miss Sinclair is truly elegant."

"I heard the great Vivian Vance was coming tonight? Where is she?" someone asked curiously.

Julian’s smile stiffened for a fraction of a second before he smoothly dismissed it:

"Vivian... she’s not feeling well. She’s resting in the VIP lounge. You know how designers are—highly artistic, a bit temperamental. She doesn't really like these crowded social events."

"On the other hand, Chloe just got back and was a bit overwhelmed. Please look after her, everyone."

Temperamental.

Look after her.

I heard every single word from outside the door, a cold smirk forming on my lips.

So, in his mouth, my eight years of blood, sweat, and tears were reduced to "temperamental," while the girl who only knew how to cry behind him was a treasure to be protected.

Boom—

The heavy doors of the banquet hall were thrown open.

The loud bang silenced the entire room. Every single eye snapped to the entrance.

The bright crystal chandeliers cast their glowing light down.

I walked in, holding Damian’s arm, my chin held high.

There was no glamorous gown, no touched-up makeup, and the ugly red wine stains were still splattered across my dress.

But the man beside me was Damian Thorne.

The "mad dog" of the business world, the one man even Julian's grandfather had to treat with absolute respect.

His presence was so powerful it completely dominated the room, forcing everyone to overlook my ruined dress and only focus on the immense... honor of me standing by his side.

"Is that... Damian Thorne?!"

"Oh my god, what is he doing here? I thought the Thornes never attended fashion galas."

"Wait, who is the woman next to him? She looks like... Vivian Vance?"