Chapter 314

Daphne

This is ridiculous.

Are you fucking kidding me?

I watch from across the room as Elliot crumples to the floor. Watched him reach for her. Watched her recoil. Watched him choose to fall like a marionette with its strings cut.

My blood boils.

It takes mere minutes—minutes—and Vivienne is suddenly this evil villainess. The cold-hearted society omega who attacks innocent, beautiful Elliot out of jealousy.

It doesn’t even make any sense.

But sense has nothing to do with it. This is narrative. This is performance. This is a masterclass in manipulation dressed up in wide green eyes and trembling lips.

I start walking toward her.

Elliot is being helped up by Dr. Wang, playing victim beautifully. Whispers swirl like vultures. And Vivienne stands frozen in the center of it all, pale and shaking, her eyes searching the crowd for someone—anyone—who sees the truth.

I see her.

I’m coming.

But before I can reach her, Damien appears.

He grabs her arm—not gently, not protectively, but like she’s a problem to be removed. He drags her toward the exit, his face a mask of political damage control. She stumbles after him, off-balance, her eyes finding mine for one heart-wrenching second before she’s pulled away.

I clench my fists.

***

Vivienne

Once at home, when he tries to drag me inside, I snatch my hand away and turn to slap him.

The crack echoes in the foyer. Servants freeze mid-task, eyes wide.

"How dare you—" he starts, hand flying to his reddening cheek.

"No, how dare you?!" I scream, not caring about the servants, not caring about anything except the rage boiling in my chest.

"All night, you were pining over that omega! Following him with your eyes like a lovesick puppy! And now you dare get angry when you publicly humiliate me even further by taking his side over your own fiancée?"

"How could you embarrass him like that in front of everyone?" His eyes are red, furious, defensive.

"You speak of lack of control, but what about you? Attacking an innocent omega—"

"Innocent?" I laugh, hollow and disbelieving.

"You think he’s innocent? He threw himself on the floor, Damien. I didn’t push him. I barely touched him. He fell on purpose."

"That’s ridiculous. Why would he—"

"To make me look guilty! To make himself the victim! It’s what he does!" I’m shaking now, my whole body trembling with fury.

"But you wouldn’t see that, would you? You’re too busy worshiping the ground he walks on to notice anything."

"Ha." He looks at me in disbelief, shaking his head.

"You’re insane. Jealous and paranoid and—"

"Are you fucking insane?" I step closer, jabbing a finger at his chest.

"I’m your fiancée! The woman you’re supposed to marry! The woman you’re supposed to protect and stand by and believe!"

"You—you don’t have the right to trample over others just because you’re my fiancée!"

"But it should owe me some basic courtesy from you!" My voice breaks on the last word. "Basic loyalty. Basic decency. But here we are."

He opens his mouth to respond, but I’m done.

"You know what? Bye."

I stomp into my room, slamming the door hard enough to rattle the frame. My hands are shaking, my face is wet, my whole body is one raw nerve of fury and humiliation.

I change into something more comfortable—jeans, a sweater, sneakers. Clothes that feel like me, not the polished society doll everyone expects.

Then I grab my bag and leave.

The night air hits my face, cool and bracing. I’m halfway to the garage before anyone catches up.

"Ma’am, I could ask the driver to—"

"Give me the car keys."

The servant hesitates, eyes wide. "Ma’am, it’s late, perhaps I should—"

"I said give me the fucking car keys."

He hands them over.

The road stretches out before me, dark and empty. I don’t know where I’m going. Don’t care. I just need to move, to put distance between myself and that house, that man, that nightmare.

An hour later, I pull into a small hotel. Nothing fancy—just to breathe.

The room is tiny. A bed, a chair, a window overlooking the parking lot. I sit on the edge of the mattress and stare at nothing.

My phone buzzes. Damien. I ignore it.

Buzzes again. Olga. I ignore it.

Buzzes a third time. Unknown number. I turn the phone off.

***

Daphne

With the System’s help, I locate Vivienne. She’s in a hotel an hour away from town. A small place, the kind you find off highways, functional and forgettable.

I drive faster than I should.

The parking lot is nearly empty when I arrive. I find her car easily—the one she took from the mansion, it is the only sports car here afterall. I park beside it and walk to the door the System indicated.

Room 114.

I knock.

For a long moment, nothing. I’m about to knock again when the door opens a crack.

Blue eyes peek through the crack. Red-rimmed. Swollen. Devastated.

"Daphne?"

"Hey."

She stares at me like she can’t believe I’m real. Like I’m a hallucination her broken heart conjured.

"What are you doing here? How did you find me?" she asks.

"Does it matter?"

Silence. She considers this.

"No." Her voice is small.

"So will you let me in?"

She hesitates for a few seconds, I almost think she won’t let me in.

Then she swings the door open.

I step inside. The room is small, generic, utterly devoid of personality. A bed. A chair. A window with the curtains pulled tight.

Vivienne stands in the middle of it, arms wrapped around herself, looking so painfully small that something in my chest cracks.

I cross the distance between us in two steps.My hands find her neck and I place my lips against hers.She gasps against my mouth,surprise, maybe, or relief and then she’s kissing me back.

Her arms unwind from around herself and wrap around me, pulling me closer, closer, closer.