chapter 66
Elena's POV:
The mention of "Madame Flower" had clearly struck a nerve.
Vivienne's hands fidgeted with her napkin, and she studiously avoided my gaze—the picture of someone desperately wishing the conversation would move elsewhere.
"That's enough, Kelly," Vivienne said quickly, her voice pitched just a touch too high. "There's no need to be so... aggressive."
Kelly immediately fell silent, but not before adding with syrupy devotion, "Only you would be kind enough to offer help to someone so ungrateful, Vivienne."
I turned my gaze to Kelly, unable to hide my distaste for such obvious bootlicking.
"If you're going to attach yourself to someone's coattails, Kelly, at least make sure they're sturdy. You never know when the whole thing might come crashing down."
Kelly's expression faltered for just a fraction of a second before she rallied with forced indignation. "You're just jealous that Vivienne has everything you don't!"
I looked at her with something between pity and exasperation—she was beyond help, really.
The girl sitting next to me, Sarah, leaned in discreetly. "Kelly's husband runs a luxury goods import business," she whispered behind her water glass. "She's been desperately trying to get connected with the Ashtons for months now. Vivienne's her golden ticket."
Suddenly Kelly's embarrassing performance made perfect sense. Business was business, but watching someone debase themselves so thoroughly for a potential connection was painful.
"Your husband couldn't make it tonight? That's a shame. We'd all love to meet this mysterious ordinary man who swept you off your feet." Sarah asked curiously.
"He's working," I said simply, which was probably true.
"Working late on a Friday night?" Sarah's voice held a note of pity that set my teeth on edge. "That must be so hard for you, especially in your condition. Does he often leave you alone like this?"
I smiled vaguely, offering nothing more. Let them interpret my silence however they wished—embarrassment, shame, whatever narrative fit their preconceptions.
The conversation droned on around me, and I found myself growing increasingly restless. The urge to call Marcus and have him pick me up early was becoming overwhelming.
I reached for my phone, only to find the screen completely dark. Dead battery.
Sarah seemed to notice my discomfort, catching the way I kept glancing toward the door. To her credit, she turned her attention to the others, no longer trying to draw me into conversation.
Sometimes the kindest thing was knowing when to leave someone alone.
Vivienne had achieved her purpose—parading her Ashton connection and expensive jewelry while ensuring everyone witnessed my apparent fall from grace—she was obviously preparing to make her exit.
The performance was complete; there was no need to linger.
She'd wanted to see me isolated and pitied, and it seemed she was getting her wish. The successful ex-classmate married to the doting Ashton heir versus the girl who'd vanished and returned diminished—it was exactly the narrative she'd hoped to craft.
"Well," Vivienne announced suddenly, rising from her seat with fluid grace, "I really should be going. Lucas is picking me up—he doesn't like me to be out too late without him. You know how protective successful men can be."
She made a show of pulling out her wallet. "Tonight's on me, everyone. Please, order whatever you'd like." The gesture was calculated to appear generous while emphasizing her financial superiority one last time.
As she gathered her things, Sarah piped up with misguided helpfulness. "Oh, Elena seems wanting to head home too. Why don't you two leave together? It would be safer than going alone."
Vivienne's hand paused on her designer bag, her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifting slightly as she turned to look at me. The suggestion hung in the air like a challenge neither of us had anticipated.
"I'd be happy to have Lucas drop Elena off when he picks me up," Vivienne offered with saccharine sweetness.
"No need," I said quickly, perhaps too quickly. "Someone's coming for me." The thought of spending even one more second in Vivienne's presence, trapped in a car with her and Lucas, made my skin crawl.
Sarah, ever the helpful soul, persisted. "Oh, don't be embarrassed! We were all classmates once."
Vivienne's smile widened as she watched me, clearly enjoying my discomfort.
I turned to Madison, who'd been quietly observing the exchange.
"May I borrow your phone? Mine's dead."
Madison handed it over without question. My fingers moved across the screen, dialing the number Sebastian had made me memorize. The phone rang once, twice... then went to voicemail.
Of course—Sebastian never answered calls from numbers he didn't recognize.
The pitying looks around the table intensified—poor Elena, even her husband wouldn't answer her calls. I suppressed a sigh and switched to messages instead, typing out a quick text with the restaurant name and address, adding simply: "Come get me."
Whether he'd see it in time was another matter entirely.
"Well?" Vivienne raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, her voice dripping with false concern. "Offer still stands for that ride. Lucas won't mind."
The smugness in her tone made it clear she'd witnessed my failed call. Another point scored in whatever game she thought we were playing.
"I'll take a taxi," I said simply, returning Madison's phone.
"Suit yourself," Vivienne shrugged, clearly pleased with my apparent predicament.
The check arrived, and true to her word, Vivienne paid for everyone with a flourish.
The group began filtering outside, some calling for cabs, others checking their phones. The December evening had turned crisp, and I wrapped my coat tighter around myself as we congregated near the entrance.
A gleaming burgundy Bentley Continental sat at the curb, its engine idling smoothly. Through the tinted windows, I could just make out Lucas's silhouette in the driver's seat.
"Oh, Lucas is already here," Vivienne announced, though everyone had already noticed. She basked in the admiring glances—the car was stunning, all polished chrome and leather luxury.
The driver's door opened and Lucas stepped out, his perfectly tailored suit catching the light. He nodded politely at the gathered group, playing the part of the devoted fiancé come to collect his bride.
Vivienne was already moving toward him, her smile radiant with triumph, when a low growl of a far more powerful engine cut through the evening air.
A midnight-black Bugatti Chiron swept around the corner, its presence immediately commanding attention. Where Lucas's Bentley was merely expensive, this was automotive royalty—a three-million-dollar hypercar that most people only saw in magazines.
It pulled up directly in front of the Bentley with predatory precision.
The gathering fell silent. Even the valet attendants, accustomed to luxury vehicles, stopped to stare.