chapter 25
Elena's POV:
In the mirror, Vivienne's reflection stood perfectly still behind me.
My heart jumped. For a split second, I was back in that house, always looking over my shoulder, always bracing for the next humiliation she'd devise with Mother's blessing.
I turned off the tap with slowness, reaching for one of the plush hand towels stacked beside the sink.
"Did you do that?" Vivienne's voice cut through the air, sharp and accusing, before I'd even finished drying my hands. "The photos. The forum posts. Was it you?"
I took my time folding the towel and setting it aside.
"I knew it," she continued when I didn't immediately respond, her voice rising slightly. "I knew the moment you showed up that something bad would happen. "
The accusation was so absurd that I almost laughed. Instead, I turned to face her properly, leaning back against the marble counter with what I hoped looked like casual indifference.
"Good to see you, Vivienne," I said, keeping my voice light and deliberately slow. "It's been what—over a year? I'd think that would be enough time for you to work on that temper of yours."
Her face flushed, the carefully applied makeup doing nothing to hide the way color crept up her neck. "Don't play innocent with me. You can't stand seeing me succeed, can you? You've always been jealous—jealous that I have everything you'll never have, that I've made something of myself while you—"
"While I what?" The words came out sharper than I'd intended. "Disappeared for a year? Is that what you were going to say?"
Her lips curved into something that wasn't quite a smile, more like a predator scenting weakness.
"Well, yes, actually. What were you doing all that time, Elena? Something so shameful you couldn't even face your own father? Couldn't show your face in public?"
She took a step closer, her voice dropping to that particularly vicious whisper. "And that man you walked in with—the way he touches you, like he owns you. "
Her eyes glittered with malicious curiosity. "Did you become his mistress? Is that where you've been hiding? Warming some rich man's bed while he keeps you tucked away like a dirty little secret?"
The temperature in the room seemed to drop. I felt my expression go cold, that pleasant mask I'd been wearing sliding away to reveal something harder underneath.
"Is that what you tell yourself?" I asked, my voice dropping to something cold and controlled that I barely recognized as my own.
"That makes it easier, doesn't it? Easier than admitting that you built your entire career on formulas I created. " I took a step closer, watching her eyes widen slightly.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, but her voice had gone thin, defensive. "Those formulas were—"
"Mine." The word came out flat and final. "The Madame Flower collection, the spring garden series, even that jasmine and amber blend that won you the industry award last month. All mine. You know it, I know it."
"And somewhere deep down, underneath all that designer clothing and expensive perfume, you know exactly what you are—a thief who built her entire reputation on stolen work. And that means you'll spend the rest of your career living in the shadow of the person you robbed."
The color had drained from her face entirely now, leaving her makeup looking garish against pale skin.
For just a moment, I saw panic flicker across her features, followed immediately by a flash of pure hatred. But she recovered quickly, the way she always had, her expression smoothing back into that practiced mask of superiority as she fell back on old patterns and familiar weapons.
"At least I don't have to sleep with men for money, don't have to sell myself to the highest bidder just to afford a decent meal. Tell me, Elena—does he pay you by the night, or did you negotiate some kind of monthly arrangement? Is that designer dress part of your compensation package, or did you have to do something special to earn it?"
I was across the space between us before I'd consciously decided to move, my hand connecting with her cheek in a slap that echoed sharply off the marble walls.
It wasn't hard—I'd never been good at violence, had spent my whole life making myself small and quiet to avoid confrontation—but it was enough to snap her head to the side, enough to leave a red mark blooming across her perfect skin.
"I used to let you walk all over me," I said, my voice shaking now but steady in its conviction, "because I was living under your mother's roof, eating your family's food, trying not to make waves that would splash back on my father. But I'm not that girl anymore, Vivienne. I'm not the one who sits quietly while you steal my work and my life and convince yourself you deserve it all."
I stepped back, putting distance between us, my hand still tingling from the impact.
"So if you're smart, you'll think very carefully before you decide to come after me again. "
Her hand had come up to her cheek, covering the mark I'd left, her eyes wide and glassy with tears that I suspected were more from shock than actual pain.
For a moment, she looked like she wanted to say something—to fight back, to reassert her dominance the way she always had.
Then Sebastian's voice cut through the tension from just outside the door, sharp with concern. "Elena?"
A pause, then more urgently, "What's going on in there? Are you alright?"
Vivienne's lips curved into something ugly and triumphant despite the reddening mark on her cheek. "Well, well. Your benefactor seems quite concerned about his investment."
Her voice dripped with venom. "You must be very good at playing the sweet, delicate little thing for him. I wonder—what would he think if he saw this side of you—the vicious little shrew who slaps people in restaurant bathrooms?"