Chapter 133 Let your Guard Down
Vivienne had never been good at waiting. Patience was not in her nature, not when anger pulsed through her veins like fire, and especially not when it came to Ethan Sinclair.
She had been told to lay low until they gathered something solid against him. Lawrence's instructions were clear, and though she hated following orders, she had no choice but to obey. The spotlight was dangerous right now, and any false move could undo the delicate progress they'd made.
So, she hid. Or at least, she tried to.
Her days had fallen into a strange rhythm, quiet mornings, long afternoons, and unpredictable evenings spent in Vincent's company. Vincent was... unusual. Chaotic in a way that both irritated and entertained her. He could talk for hours about nothing, start a fight over a card game, or lose his temper over the smallest joke, but Vivienne was the only one who could ever shut him up.
And he listened to her. That was rare.
She often found herself laughing at his nonsense, a sound she hadn't made sincerely in a long time. It almost disturbed her; how natural it felt to be around him. They had formed an odd companionship, one built not on trust or affection, but on shared restlessness and a mutual dislike for being ignored.
Still, beneath the laughter and casual banter, Vivienne's mind never strayed far from Ethan.
The news cycle had slowed on them for a while, but that morning, her phone had been flooded with new photos, glossy, well-timed, perfectly lit. Ethan Sinclair and his wife, Lena.
She had stared at one particular photo for a long time. It was a shot taken outside some event, with Ethan looking down at Lena, his expression soft unguarded. His hand rested near her back in that instinctive, protective way she remembered all too well.
Vivienne's blood boiled.
"They never caught us like this," she muttered under her breath, scrolling angrily through the pictures.
She tossed the phone onto the table in front of her, glaring at it as if it had personally betrayed her. "Of course, they didn't. Because he never looked at me that way. Not once."
Vincent was lounging across from her, sprawled lazily on the couch, flipping through a magazine he clearly wasn't reading. "Really?" he asked without looking up.
Vivienne shot him a sharp look. "Do you see these pictures?" She snatched her phone back up, waving it in his direction. "Look at his face. He's smiling. Smiling, Vincent! Since when does Ethan smile like that?"
Vincent leaned lazily against the armrest, arms folded, watching her storm around the room. "Another headline?" he asked without much surprise.
"Headline?" she snapped, picking her phone back up and shoving it at him. "This isn't just a headline, Vincent. This is mockery. Look at his face, he's smiling at her like she hung the damn moon. When did Ethan Sinclair ever smile like that?"
Vincent took the phone from her hand, studied the picture briefly, then let out a low whistle. "I'll give him this, he's convincing. To the world, at least."
"To the world?" Vivienne repeated furiously. "He's convincing everyone! The media's calling it a fairytale 'The cold billionaire who fell for love.'" Her voice dripped with disgust. "They're painting him like a saint."
Vincent handed her back the phone, his expression cool. "And that's why we'll ruin him. People fall harder when they've been lifted that high."
She froze for a moment, his words hitting a darker chord of satisfaction. "You think we can really pull it off?" she asked, quieter now.
"We've come this far," Vincent said, shrugging with easy confidence. "We're closer than we've ever been. Once Lawrence gets what he needs, Ethan won't even see it coming."
Vivienne looked at him, her anger still simmering. "Then why do you sound so calm about it? Don't you feel anything when you see this?" She waved her phone at him again. "Doesn't it make you sick?"
He chuckled softly. "I've learned not to let anger lead the way. That's your department."
She glared at him. "And what's your department then?"
He tilted his head, a faint smirk appearing. "Execution."
For a second, she almost smiled, almost. Then she sighed, pacing again. "He deserves everything coming for him," she muttered. "Everything. He took everything from me and now he gets to look happy. No. Not again."
Vincent watched her quietly. "You'll get your revenge, Viv. I promise you that. But"
"But what?" she cut in, turning toward him sharply.
He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly. "Just... don't lose yourself before the end. Ethan's not worth your sanity."
Vivienne laughed coldly. "You think I'm losing myself?"
"I think you're obsessed," he said plainly. "And obsession makes people sloppy."
Her expression hardened. "And what about you, Vincent? You used to be obsessed too, with her."
His jaw tightened briefly. "I was."
She smirked, crossing her arms. "And now?"
He looked at her for a long moment before answering. "Now I have bigger priorities."
Vivienne frowned. "Like what?"
His gaze lingered on her, steady and unreadable. "Like making sure this plan doesn't fall apart because someone can't stop thinking about a man who's already moved on."
She scoffed. "Don't act like you're immune to this. You hated her for leaving you behind."
"Hatred's useful," he said simply. "It keeps you focused."
"Focused?" she repeated, her voice sharp. "You don't even look angry anymore."
He smiled faintly, almost amused. "I don't need to look angry to destroy someone, Viv."
Vivienne stared at him for a moment. Despite herself, she felt a strange spark of admiration or maybe annoyance at how composed he was. Vincent wasn't the reckless man she'd first met; there was a steadiness in him now, something colder, more deliberate.
She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs. "You've changed," she said.
Vincent smirked. "You say that like it's a bad thing."
"It is when you start talking like a monk," she said dryly. "I liked you better when you were furious."
He chuckled, stepping closer. "And I like you better when you stop pretending you don't care what Ethan thinks."
Her gaze flicked up to meet his. "I don't."
"Liar," he murmured with a half-smile.
She rolled her eyes, leaning back. "You're impossible."
"And yet, you keep calling me," he teased lightly, sitting beside her.
Vivienne's lips twitched but she didn't answer. The tension between them was subtle, threaded beneath their shared bitterness.
Vincent leaned back, glancing at her again. "You know, it's funny," he said. "When I first met you, I thought you were just another pretty face chasing power. But you're different."
"Different how?" she asked cautiously.
He shrugged, still watching her. "You don't just want to win; you want him to feel it."
She gave a cold smile. "You catch on quick."
"Yeah," he said softly. "Maybe that's why I like you."
Vivienne turned sharply, caught off guard. "What?"
He only smiled faintly, reaching for his glass again. "Relax. I meant I like your style. You're ruthless."
But the way he said it carried an undertone that didn't sound like admiration alone.
Vivienne forced a small laugh. "You're so full of it."
"Maybe," he replied, sipping his drink. "But I know what I'm doing. And if it means helping you take Sinclair down, I'm all in."
She studied him for a moment, the relaxed posture, the careful tone, the faint warmth beneath his words. "Good," she finally said. "Because when we're done with Ethan, I want him to lose everything he loves, just like I did."
Vincent nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. "Then I guess we're after the same thing."
He smiled faintly, but behind it, his eyes lingered on her, not with the old obsession he had for Lena, but something quieter, more dangerous.