CHAPTER SIX
the ballroom still drifted faintly through the walls, but here the world was reduced to the cold
space between her and the two people who claimed to love her.
"I have no connection to him," Vivienne said. The words came out raw, unsteady. "I have never
met Grayson Holt. He has nothing to do with me."
Her father watched her with the detachment he used when negotiating contracts. His eyes, dark
and precise, held no softness. Her mother stood straighter, her posture perfect even in this
hallway where the truth had begun to unravel Vivienne's life thread by thread.
"You don't need a connection," her mother said. "You need to listen."
"I won't listen to something this insane," Vivienne shot back. Her voice thinned as emotion
strained against the edges. "You're talking about giving me to a stranger. A man with a
reputation so dark that people refuse to speak his name above a whisper."
"You will lower your tone," her father said sharply. "This is not a discussion."
Vivienne shook her head, her curls trembling against her cheeks. "Of course it's a discussion.
You're you're selling me. How can you look at me and call that family? How can you expect me
to obey?"
Her mother stepped forward. "We expect you to do what is necessary."
Vivienne felt the corridor closing around her, every breath tightening until she couldn't tell where
her panic ended and her anger began. "Necessary for you. For your debts. For the alliances
you've made without me."
Her father's jaw flexed. "This is not about debts."
"Then what is it?" she demanded.
He hesitated, a brief flicker of something crossing his features pride? fear? shame? before he
buried it beneath that firm, businesslike calm. "Our future hinges on this agreement."
Her mother added, "And yours."
"My future?" The laugh that escaped Vivienne was thin and wild. "My future should be my
choice. Not something you hand over like a bargaining chip."
Her father's tone hardened. "Grayson Holt is not a man one negotiates with lightly. His
protection is not a luxury. It is an asset few families ever earn. Do you understand the power
we're aligning with?"
Vivienne stared at him in disbelief. "Do you understand what you're aligning me with?"
Her mother's gaze sharpened. "Grayson Holt asked for a bride. We offered you. The contract
has been signed."
Vivienne's body stiffened. The coldness of those words wrapped around her like a chain.
"Signed? Without my knowledge?"
Her father didn't blink. "Your knowledge wasn't required."
Vivienne took two unsteady steps back until her shoulders brushed the wall. She felt the world
press against her, felt the weight of decisions she had never been invited into. Her breath
trembled the way her voice did. "I don't want this. I don't want him. I don't want any part of this."
Her mother's expression didn't soften. "Want has nothing to do with it. Our alliances depend on
your compliance. This is bigger than your feelings."
Vivienne nearly choked on the words. "My life is bigger than your alliances."
Her father's patience snapped like a quiet thread. "Enough. You will not disgrace this family by
resisting. Holt wanted someone from our bloodline. Not Tessa. You."
Vivienne felt her stomach drop, slow and sickening. "Why me?"
Her parents exchanged a look so swift and telling that Vivienne caught the answer before they
spoke it.
Her mother exhaled. "Tessa is too valuable to risk."
The sentence struck as if someone had slapped her. "Valuable?"
"Tessa is essential to our future business relationships," her father said. "She is being prepared
for roles that require visibility, influence, and stability. Holt is unpredictable. His life is dangerous.
His reputation "
"Crippled. Scarred. Ruthless." Vivienne's voice was small but vicious. "That's what people
whisper."
"That is precisely why we couldn't give him Tessa," her mother said. "But you…" She paused as
if selecting the correct phrasing. "You are adaptable."
Vivienne felt every part of her freeze. Adaptable. Moldable. Sacrificial. All the words her parents
never said but always acted out in private ways.
Her breath trembled as she forced out, "You chose me because I'm easier to lose."
Her mother didn't confirm it. But she didn't deny it either.
Vivienne backed away from them, one step at a time, as if distance could shield her from their
choices choices made at boardroom tables and over business dinners while she studied,
worked, lived, loved, utterly unaware that her life had been decided behind polished doors.
"You can't make me do this," she whispered. "I'll run. I'll leave tonight."
Her father's voice cut through her desperation. "You won't get far."
"Watch me."
She spun and ran down the corridor, dress brushing her legs as she darted past the staircase.
Panic fueled her steps, hot and breathless, until she reached the side foyer where a pair of
security guards stood men in dark suits, heavy-built, hands resting near their belts.
She lunged toward the door.
One guard stepped forward, his large frame blocking her path. "Miss Cross, you need to return
to the celebration."
"I'm leaving," Vivienne said, breathless. "Move."
"I can't do that," the guard replied. "Orders."
Her heart thrashed against her ribs. "Orders from who?"
"Your father."
Behind her, footsteps approached measured, confident, familiar. Her parents.
Vivienne pressed her palm to the door, pushing against it even when it didn't budge. "Let me
go."
Her mother's voice slid through the hallway, calm and final. "Vivienne, stop."
Vivienne didn't turn. "You can't keep me here."
Her father's tone was colder than winter stone. "Holt's men will arrive within minutes. It is time
you accept this."
Vivienne closed her eyes as the truth took shape like a dark, imminent wave. The door no
longer felt like an exit. It felt like an illusion a border she would never cross again.
She dropped her hand, fingers trembling, breath thin. Her parents stood behind her like two
walls closing inward.
Outside, in the distance, engines rumbled. Heavy. Approaching.
Her father spoke again, quieter this time. "Prepare yourself. He's coming for you."
Vivienne opened her eyes, staring at the darkness beyond the glass. The night seemed to pulse
with a presence she couldn't yet name a presence that would change everything.
Her escape had already been sealed shut
The Truth They Never Intended to Tell
Vivienne didn't turn around at first. She stood with her hand still resting on the cold glass of the
door, her breath fogging faintly against it as if even the warmth of her lungs was trying to
escape. She could hear her parents behind her her father's steady inhale, her mother's faint
exhale, both of them composed in the way only people confident in their power could be.
Seconds stretched. Then Vivienne pivoted, slow and deliberate, forcing herself to face them
even though her pulse hammered like a trapped creature. Her voice was tight. "Why wasn't
Tessa chosen?"
Her mother blinked once. The question didn't shock her. It annoyed her. "We already explained "
"No," Vivienne interrupted, stepping forward. The desperation that had clawed its way up her
spine now edged her tone with something sharper. "You gave excuses. I want the truth. The real
reason. No more half-answers."
Her father's jaw worked once, a small flicker of irritation crossing his face. He was unused to
defiance from her quiet, dutiful Vivienne who rarely caused ripples. Tonight her voice created an
unexpected disturbance.
"You are emotional," he said.
"And you are hiding something." She moved closer, shoulders squared even as fear trembled
beneath the surface. "Why her? Why not Tessa?"