Chapter 2
“Yes.” Warren’s single word landed like a hammer blow, its finality shattering the fragile remnants of Vivienne Hayes’s hope. The sound echoed within her, each reverberation tightening the vise around her chest, making it difficult to breathe. A faint “sorry” escaped his lips as he turned and hurried away, the apology sounding hollow in the tense silence he left behind. Vivienne remained frozen, her eyes following his retreating figure. A searing ache bloomed within her, as if an unseen hand were gouging out her heart with slow, deliberate cruelty.
A cold numbness began in her toes, creeping upward until it enveloped her completely. Memories flooded back involuntarily. She recalled the days when Warren had taken the reins of the faltering Mitchell family business, its finances teetering on the brink of ruin. He’d admitted then that he couldn’t offer her stability, but promised marriage once the company recovered. She’d grasped that vow like a lifeline, pouring her own resources and influence into his success—all to hasten their future together and secure her family’s reluctant approval.
Now, the bitter truth revealed itself with merciless precision: their three years had been nothing but a calculated exchange for him. She alone had poured her soul into this illusion of love. Her sacrifices, her unwavering loyalty—all reduced to ashes by his devotion to another.
Tears welled despite her efforts to restrain them, her body trembling violently. Diana Mitchell, Warren’s sister, watched her unravel with a gleam of smug satisfaction. “Vivienne, did you honestly think my brother would settle for a plain nobody like you—a country girl with no pedigree or refinement—if you hadn’t manipulated your way into his life? Know your place and leave quietly!”
The words stabbed through Vivienne’s already wounded heart. “The Mitchell family’s success is because of me!” she retorted, her voice cracking with defiance. “Have you forgotten that?”
“Spare us your delusions!” Diana snapped, jabbing a finger at her. “You think you’re indispensable? The Mitchells would have prospered with or without your interference!”
Each accusation deepened Vivienne’s wounds, exposing the family’s disdain for her contributions. Then Melissa Mitchell, Warren’s mother, approached with an air of polished disdain, her disgust barely concealed. “This has gone far enough,” she said coolly. “You’re not only making a fool of yourself—you’re damaging the Mitchell name.”
With that, Melissa turned away, offering carefully composed apologies to the departing guests, her composure unwavering. Vivienne watched the crowd disperse, her dream of a joyous wedding dissolving into a humiliating mockery. Why had her love and dedication yielded only scorn? Had she been so tragically wrong to give her heart to someone incapable of reciprocating? Tears streamed down her face anew as she closed her eyes, the weight of her reality settling like a stone in her stomach.
Half an hour later, Vivienne wandered the deserted streets, a hollow shell adrift and directionless. Rain began to fall—a soft patter at first, escalating into a relentless torrent. Spotting a bus stop in the distance, her only refuge from the downpour, she began to run, her bare feet slapping against the wet pavement. But her misfortunes continued. A jagged stone cut into her foot, forcing her to hobble the rest of the way, pain intensifying with each step.
A car horn’s sudden blare pierced the rain’s steady drumming. Headlights loomed, bearing down on her. Vivienne’s eyes widened in panic, her pupils dilating as the specter of death hurtled toward her.