Chapter 311

Daphne

I watch the news coverage from my phone, curled up in bed.

Vincent’s face, pale and wild, being mobbed by reporters outside the hospital. The way he shoved through the crowd, the raw panic in his eyes, the utter humiliation of it all.

I’m worried he’s going to kill himself. Can he handle this much? The loss of control, the public shame, the complete unraveling of everything he built?

Well. I set down my phone, staring at the ceiling. That’s one way to break the harem.

[Host!]

I ignore the System and slip out of bed.

The mansion is quiet at this hour. Everyone asleep, or pretending to be. My bare feet make no sound on the cold floors as I navigate the familiar path to her room.

This reminds me of another lifetime. Sneaking into the Duchess’s room in the dead of night.

Some things never change, do they?

I reach her door. Try the handle. Unlocked.

I slip inside, quick and quiet, closing it behind me with a soft click.

The room is dim, lit only by moonlight filtering through the curtains. And on the bed, not asleep, propped against the pillows with a book in her lap—

Vivienne.

She gasps when she sees me, her hand flying to her chest. "Daphne! You scared—"

But I’m already moving, crossing the room, crawling onto the bed, settling beside her in the warm hollow she’s made. She shifts automatically, making room, her body fitting against mine like it was designed to.

She looks at me. Those blue eyes, soft and curious and mine.

"Hey," I say.

The smile she gives me,slow, warm, devastating hits me right in the chest.

Had I not already been in love with her, this would have been the moment.

"You’re beautiful," I say, and I mean it. The words come from somewhere deep in my soul.

She looks at me, and I’m absolutely, irrecoverably in love with her.

"So are you," she says softly.

We just look at each other. The world narrows to this moment, this bed, this woman. 𝚏𝐫𝚎𝗲𝕨𝐞𝐛𝕟𝚘𝐯𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝗺

I shift, settling more comfortably on my elbow, looking down at her. My free hand reaches out, fingers finding a strand of her honey-brown hair, playing with it absently.

"So tell me about yourself."

She laughs a little, a soft, surprised sound. Then she’s quiet, watching me with those blue eyes that see too much.

"Are you serious?" she asks.

"Yeah." I twirl the strand around my finger, watching the way the pale light catches it. "Like, who are you? Who is Vivienne?"

"What about me?"

"Anything you can think of. Your likes. Your favorite color. Your hobbies." I smile. "Everything."

"Uhm, I kinda don’t know what to say," she says, looking adorably flustered.

"Come on." I nudge her gently.

"Hmmmnn." She scrunches her nose, thinking. "Well, I don’t have a favorite color, per se. I mean, I like lots of colors. Blue is nice. Green too. Sometimes pink. It depends on the day, you know?"

I nod seriously, like this is the most profound revelation. "Deep. Very deep."

She smacks my chest lightly. "You asked!"

"I did. Continue."

She settles deeper into the pillows, getting comfortable. "I actually have an artistic hobby, you know."

"Oh, do you?"

"I mean, it’s nothing compared to you." She glances at me, almost shy. "Your paintings literally come to life. All I can do is sketch a little."

"That’s still impressive. I would like to see that someday."

She shakes her head. "I haven’t done it in ages. I don’t think I can anymore."

"Muscle memory," I say confidently. "It’s like riding a bike. You never forget."

She gives me a skeptical look but continues. "Apparently as a child, I had major talent for acting. Like, I could have been an actress if I’d decided to pursue that passion."

"I see it," I say softly.

She scoffs. "You’re just saying that."

"I’m really not."

She considers me for a moment, then continues. "Okay, this is not my opinion, but in high school, my classmates said I had a bossy streak sometimes." She looks at me like she’s confessing a crime.

"Ridiculous, isn’t it?"

I think of every version of her I’ve loved. An adored actress and heiress, a duchess, even as Estella and Nima once they got accustomed to being by my side their true colors would show.

"Yeah," I agree, keeping my face straight. "Absolutely ridiculous."

She narrows her eyes. "You’re making fun of me."

"I would never."

"You would absolutely."

We grin at each other, and it’s so easy, so natural, that my chest aches with it.

"Okay, favorite food?" I prompt.

She thinks. "I don’t really have one, but..." She hesitates. "I can’t eat rabbit meat."

I choke out a laugh.

"No, like seriously!" She sits up slightly, indignant.

"I literally can’t. Even if it’s masked in a stew or something. I’m not allergic, I don’t think—I just... I’m very opposed to it. My body rejects it. It’s weird."

I’m still laughing, but it’s soft, fond. "Maybe you were a bunny in a previous life."

She flops back down, rolling her eyes. "Nah."

"I’m telling you, I see it." I tap her nose. "A little bunny. Hopping around. Eating carrots."

"I do like carrots," she admits grudgingly.

"See? Evidence."

"You’re ridiculous."

"And yet."

She sighs dramatically, but she’s smiling. "And yet."

I pull her closer, tucking her against my chest. Her hair smells like honey and something floral. She fits perfectly, like she was made to be held by me.

"Tell me more," I murmur into her hair.

"More?"

"Everything. I want to know everything."

"I wake up sometimes," she continues, her voice smaller now, "and I don’t know why I’m crying. There’s just... this sadness. Like I’m mourning something I can’t remember."

My arms tighten around her. I know that feeling. I’ve lived it. Every world, every lifetime, every moment between finding her and losing her again.

"It’s why I’ve always wanted a family," she whispers. "A real one. A child of my own. I thought... I thought if I could build something, create something, maybe that feeling would go away."

I press my lips to her hair, breathing her in.

"But when I’m with you..." She trails off, and I feel her hand press flat against my chest, right over my heart.

"That feeling of loss and emptiness? It’s not there. It just... disappears."

I can’t speak. My throat is too tight, my eyes too hot.

So I just hold her it’s the only thing I can do.