Chapter 74 Picture Perfect
Vivienne lay sprawled across her velvet chaise, phone balanced in her hand, mindlessly scrolling. A glass of wine sweated on the side table beside her, untouched. Her boredom shattered when a familiar face lit up her feed.
Her thumb froze mid-swipe.
The headline under the photo screamed in bold:
"The Sinclairs Steal the Show at the Autolux Expo!"
Another variation read:
"Sinclair Power Couple Captivates Auto World."
And then the photo, Ethan and her.
Vivienne sat up straight. The screen glare mocked her with its cruelty: Ethan angled toward Lena, his eyes caught in a rare moment of softness. The way he leaned in close, as though her laughter were the only thing worth hearing in that vast arena. They were seated together so naturally, as if the world itself had bent to fit them into a single frame.
Vivienne's chest tightened. No. That wasn't real. That couldn't be real.
Her nails dug crescents into her palm as she whispered through clenched teeth, "You don't look at her like that, Ethan. You don't."
Heat rushed through her, boiling over into rage. She couldn't stand the comments pouring beneath the photo
"Couple goals"
"They're glowing together!"
"Lena is such a queen, Ethan is lucky."
Her blood burned. Without a second thought, she switched accounts, slipping into one of the many anonymous masks she had crafted for nights like this.
Her fingers flew.
"This is PR 101. Don't be fooled. That marriage is faker than a plastic ring."
"Notice how staged this looks? The smiles don't even reach their eyes."
"Anyone who knows Sinclair knows he'd never lower himself to her level. It's business, nothing else."
She hit post. Then again. And again.
The effect was instant. Like gasoline to dry grass, her venom caught. Others began chiming in, emboldened by her spark.
"Facts. She looks desperate sitting next to him."
"Ethan's clearly uncomfortable. Look at his body language."
"Gold digger vibes all over her. Who even is she?"
"She'll never fit in. She looks cheap compared to other CEOs' wives."
"I give it six months before he replaces her."
"Can you imagine Ethan Sinclair marrying for love? Please. He's not stupid."
Vivienne's lips curled into a satisfied smile as more and more hate piled onto Lena. What started as whispers turned into a brutal chant, dragging Lena's name through the dirt. Every new insult fueled her.
Vivienne tossed her hair back and reclined, the bitter taste of victory coating her tongue.
"They wanted a fairytale," she murmured, eyes glittering with malice as she refreshed the feed, "I'll make sure it turns into a nightmare."
Vivienne tossed her phone onto the couch cushion, then snatched it back up again. Her pulse was still racing, her jaw tight. That photo lingered in her mind, Ethan looking at Lena as though she belonged beside him.
She narrowed her eyes.
It seems like they're getting closer. The thought gnawed at her, relentless. If she didn't act now, the lie of their "perfect marriage" would cement itself into people's minds. She couldn't allow that. Not when she knew the truth. Not when he was supposed to be hers.
Her fingers moved with renewed fury.
From another account, she typed:
"Everyone needs to stop pretending this is real. Lena is nothing but a poor gold digger Ethan picked up. She's been targeting his money from day one."
Post. Refresh. Another.
"Think about it, why else would the marriage be so fast? She baited him. Any smart man would never marry that quickly unless he was trapped."
Post.
The comments began spiraling, twisting her words into new shapes, each crueler than the last.
"Exactly! She played the damsel and reeled him in."
"Of course she married him fast, she wanted to secure the bag before he came to his senses."
"I heard she comes from nothing, no way she fits into his world."
"Can you imagine? From rags to penthouses overnight. Pathetic."
Vivienne's smile spread as she watched the poison spread wider.
But then, pushback. A few comments cut against the tide:
"Not buying it. Ethan Sinclair isn't someone you can manipulate. He does whatever he wants."
"If it were all about money, why would he look at her like that? Doesn't add up."
"This sounds like jealousy to me. Leave Lena alone."
Vivienne's grip tightened around her phone, knuckles whitening. The defenders of Lena burned her nerves raw. She muttered, almost spitting, "Fools. They don't see it. They don't see what she really is."
She dove back in, fanning the flames, determined to drown out the voices of reason before they grew too loud.
The online smear wasn't enough; whispers could only go so far. She needed proof, something damning, something real she could twist into a blade.
She grabbed her phone and dialed. The line barely rang before a nervous voice answered.
"Miss viv"
"What's wrong with you?" Vivienne asked, her voice smooth but laced with irritation. "I don't recall hiring you to drag your feet. Weeks have gone by, and you bring me nothing but excuses. Tell me, what exactly is causing the delay?"
The man on the other end hesitated. "I've been working day and night, but there's... nothing, ma'am. She's got a clean slate. No history of trouble. She wasn't a street girl, no criminal record, not even a wild past. From what I've gathered, she never lived a promiscuous life either. Honestly, she's, "
"Spare me your excuses!" Vivienne's voice sharpened like glass. "Do you think I pay you to tell me she's perfect? You call yourself a professional, yet you can't dig up a single misstep from some nobody's past?"
"I...I just need more time," the man stammered, panic in his tone. "People like her, they don't leave obvious trails. But I'll find something. I swear. Give me another week, I'll have what you want."
Her grip on the phone tightened, fury simmering hot in her chest. "If you don't, I'll ruin you. Do you understand? Your career, your reputation, gone. Don't test me."
"Yes, Ma'am . Please, just a little longer. I'll get what you need. I promise."
Vivienne ended the call with a sharp flick of her thumb, staring into the darkness of her living room. Her reflection glared back at her from the black screen, twisted in anger.
Clean slate? No one is that clean. Everyone has cracks. And when I find hers... I'll shatter her.
The moment she ended the call with her useless informant, Vivienne's jaw clenched. She set her glass down, opened her laptop, and dragged a file into a secure message window. Lena's photo glared back at her, smiling, radiant, irritatingly unbothered.
Vivienne tapped out a message, her tone precise even in writing. Then, without hesitation, she placed a call.
A gravelly voice answered on the second ring. "Miss Hale."
"I've just sent you something," she said smoothly. "A file with a name and a face. Lena Sinclair."
There was a pause as he opened it. "Understood."
"I don't want surface work," Vivienne continued, her words crisp, deliberate. "Leave no stone unturned. I want everything, her past, her family, her friends, every skeleton tucked neatly away in her closet. If she borrowed a library book and forgot to return it, I want to know."
"Yes, ma'am." His tone was firm, professional.
"And," she added softly, "don't be charmed by how clean she looks. Appearances lie. Dig deeper. Peel her down to the bone if you have to."
"Consider it done. You'll have something solid soon."
Vivienne leaned back, the faintest curve of a smile playing on her lips. "Good. I don't want shadows, I want substance. Give me the kind of truth that destroys."
She ended the call, staring at Lena's photo glowing on her screen. For a long moment, before tapping it away with a flick, like brushing off dirt.