Chapter 4
Vivienne Hayes crossed the threshold into what had once been her haven with Warren—a space now hollowed by her solitude. Tonight, she alone would haunt these walls.
Her eyes fell upon the heart-shaped balloons festooning the room, their bright curves a cruel mockery of her anguish. With a swift, unceremonious tug, she ripped them down, the plastic crumpling in her hands like discarded promises. The remnants of the celebration only fueled her mounting bitterness. She moved with cold efficiency, stripping away every trace of festivity until her gaze landed on a framed photograph of them, pinned to the wall like a relic of a lie.
She stood before it, motionless, her pain sharpening into something steely and unyielding. Scissors glided through the image with quiet resolve, slicing their frozen smiles into fragments beyond repair. When the last vestige of their past lay in ruins, Vivienne sank into the sofa, the silence stretching as night bled into morning. She remained awake through the hours, teetering on the edge of sleep, until the door creaked open, jolting her awake.
No instinct drove her to rise and meet him. She sat still, carved from disillusionment and determination, as Warren entered. He carried himself with the ease of a man unburdened by remorse, collapsing into a chair and rubbing his temples. “Fetch me some water,” he said, his tone casual, expectant.
A sharp, incredulous laugh escaped Vivienne. “Warren, we’re done!”
Her declaration landed like a stone dropped into still water, its ripples undeniable.
His dark, impenetrable eyes locked onto hers, revealing nothing. Vivienne held his stare, a wry twist curling her lips. “What’s with that look? Did you think your choice wasn’t clear when you left me standing at the altar? Or perhaps it was sealed the moment Natalie re-entered your life?”
Warren reached for a cigarette, his movements smooth and deliberate. The lighter flared briefly, casting a fleeting glow across the tense air. He inhaled deeply, smoke curling around his words. “This is for the best. You’ve misjudged Natalie. Dragging this out would only hurt her more.”
Vivienne’s gaze pierced him, stripping away the man she thought she knew. “Tell me, Warren,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain, “is there anything you wouldn’t discard for her?”
He stubbed out the cigarette, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “For three years, I’ve tried to suppress my feelings for Natalie, but love doesn’t yield to effort. I hope you can let go of your resentment—for her sake. She’s not to blame.”
Her laughter erupted, wild and jagged, threatening to shatter. Three years—years she’d spent pouring her heart into him, convinced that time could melt his indifference. She’d cut ties with her family, surrendered her own ambitions, all for a man who now dismissed her with a detached, “Love doesn’t yield to effort.”
Warren watched her unraveling composure, a frown creasing his brow as a sudden pang of remorse struck him. “There’s a million dollars in this card,” he said, sliding it toward her. “Enough to build a good life back in the country.”
To him, three years of her devotion could be settled with a check—a tidy transaction. He didn’t understand that a million dollars was insignificant to her. “Warren, I stayed for you,” she said, her voice icy, her delicate features hardening into something formidable. “The Mitchell wealth, the prestige, the title—I never wanted any of it!”
“Keep your money and your pity. And mark this: there’s no going back from this.” Her words lingered like a verdict as she rose and marched toward the door.
Warren’s eyes followed her resolute exit, an unseen weight tightening around his chest, stealing his breath. His hand reached out instinctively, clutching at the emptiness she left behind.