Chapter 42 AFTER SHOCK
Vivienne leaned against her apartment door after closing it behind her, allowing herself one moment of pure exhaustion before straightening up. The chaotic day with Alexander had drained her completely. After her breakdown and their conversation in the stairwell , they'd managed to save something of a working relationship.
But emotionally, she felt drained, like someone had scooped away her insides and left just enough to keep her standing.
The sound of rapid footsteps pulled her from her thoughts.
"Mom! You're home!" Noah came running around the corner from the hallway, his socks sliding on the hardwood floor. His face lit up. "Rebecca said you might be late but you're home early!"
He crashed into her with such force that she nearly lost her balance, his arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Vivienne breathed in the scent of his hair, that indescribable essence that was purely Noah.
"I promised I'd be home for dinner, didn't I?" She smoothed down his unruly curls, noting they needed a trim soon.
Noah tilted his head back to look at her, his expression suddenly serious. "Yeah, but adults break promises sometimes. Did you have a good day?"
Vivienne considered lying, making up some cheerful story about her first day. But Noah deserved better than that.
"It was complicated," she admitted, keeping her voice steady. "But I survived it."
Noah's forehead creased with concern. "Did Uncle Alex's people be mean to you?"
"Uncle Alex was a lot to handle," she said carefully. "But we worked it out."
Noah studied her face. "You look tired, Mom."
"I am tired, baby. It was a long day." She bent down to kiss his forehead.
"Rebecca made lasagna for dinner. Your favorite." He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the kitchen. "Come see! And I got an A on my spelling test! Mrs. Peterson said I spelled every word perfectly!"
Vivienne let herself be pulled along.
The apartment smelled of tomato sauce and melted cheese, a comforting scent that reminded her of her own childhood.
Rebecca stood in the kitchen, oven mitts on her hands as she set a bubbling lasagna on a trivet. Her blue-streaked hair was pulled back in a messy bun, and she'd clearly made herself at home in Vivienne's kitchen.
"Rough first day?" Rebecca asked, giving Vivienne a knowing look.
"You could say that." Vivienne set her bag down on a chair.
Rebecca's smile was sympathetic. "Well, you're home now." She pointed to the steaming dish. "This needs to cool for ten minutes. Noah, show your mom that drawing you made."
Noah's eyes widened. "Oh yeah!" He ran off toward his room, his socks skidding on the floor again.
In the momentary quiet, Vivienne pulled out her phone to check for messages. There was one from Marcus asking how the first day went, and another from Eliza with tomorrow's revised schedule.
And then she saw it.
An unknown number.
Her fingers trembled as she opened the message.
"Saw the studio footage. Nice effort you putting into it and interesting act. I specially loved the breakdown, it was icing on the cake. Keep playing your part Elara. You're doing good so far."
The world tilted beneath her feet. The kitchen walls seemed to close in, the cheerful yellow paint suddenly garish and threatening.
They had seen her breakdown. They knew what happened in the studio today.
How? The security at Hunt Enterprises was supposed to be impenetrable. Was someone on the crew feeding information to the blackmailer? Was there a camera she hadn't noticed?
Her hands went cold and clammy. The lasagna's smell turned from comforting to nauseating in an instant.
"Mom?"
Noah's voice broke through her panic. He stood in the doorway, holding a large piece of construction paper. His expression shifted from excitement to concern. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."
Vivienne forced a smile. "I'm fine, I just got an email. What have you got there?"
"Look!" He held up his drawing proudly. "It's you and Uncle Alex at the office. There you are sitting across the table from him. You are having an important meeting."
Vivienne stared at the drawing, feeling as if the floor beneath her might give way entirely.
Noah had drawn two stick figures seated at what appeared to be a conference table. One had long dark hair, clearly meant to be her.
The other was taller with short dark hair, wearing a suit. Both figures were smiling, their stick arms extended across the table as if reaching for each other.
"It's beautiful, baby," she managed, her voice sounding far away to her own ears. "You're getting so good at faces."
Noah beamed, unaware of the storm of emotions his simple drawing had set off. "Thanks! Can we put it on the fridge?"
"Absolutely."
She helped him secure the drawing with magnets, her movements mechanical. As she stepped back, she caught her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator door, a distorted version of herself, pale and stretched thin, eyes haunted.
Rebecca moved around them, setting the table. "Dinner's ready when you are, guys. Noah, please wash your hands."
"I'll do it now." He ran toward the bathroom.
Alone with Rebecca for a moment, Vivienne steadied herself against the counter. The younger woman glanced at her with concern.
"Are you sure you're okay?" Rebecca asked quietly. "You look like you might pass out."
"Just tired," Vivienne said. "First day jitters."
Rebecca nodded, though she didn't look convinced. "Noah was great today. Did all his homework without complaining. He's a really good kid."
"Thank you for taking care of him." Vivienne's voice caught. "It means more than you know."
Her phone vibrated again in her hand. For a terrifying moment, she thought it might be another message from the blackmailer. Instead, it was from Eliza:
"Tomorrow's schedule attached. Looking forward to a better day. You were really great today. -E"
Great.
The word struck her as absurdly inadequate for what had happened. She'd broken down, revealed her vulnerabilities to Alexander Hunt of all people, and somehow negotiated a fragile peace that might actually make this project possible. And somewhere, watching from the shadows, was someone who knew her real identity and was using it to control her.
Noah returned, his hands still damp. "Can we eat now? I'm starving!"
"Of course," Rebecca said, serving up the lasagna.
As they sat down to eat, Vivienne listened to Noah talk about his day, the spelling test, a science project about planets, the new kid in class who had moved from California and thought New York winters were "totally insane."
She nodded and asked questions at all the right moments, but part of her remained detached, watching this scene of domestic normalcy as if through thick glass.
Tomorrow she would return to the studio. She would face Alexander again and make sure this works out even if she had to pretend they were just colleagues with no shared past.
And the crew, she didn't want it to get to a point where she had to suspect anyone, they all seemed like wonderful people. But left with no choice, she would take the time to scan the faces of the crew, one of them might be reporting back to her blackmailer.
She deleted the blackmailer's message and saved Eliza's schedule.
Later, after Rebecca had gone home and Noah was tucked into bed, Vivienne stood in front of the refrigerator again, studying the drawing.
She traced the outline of Alexander's stick figure with her fingertip, remembering how vulnerable he had looked sitting on those concrete steps while they talked.
For a moment, just a moment, she allowed herself to imagine a different world, one where she had never fled, where Noah knew his father, where Alexander knew his son.
Then she turned away, switching off the kitchen light as she made her way into her bedroom.