Chapter 54 *
Third Person POV
Viviana grabbed her bag off the table. Her hands were shaking. With anger. With humiliation.
That ungrateful little bitch.
She turned and walked out of the private dining room. Her heels clicked sharply against the hardwood floor.
The door closed behind her with a soft thud.
She stood in the hallway for a moment. Tried to compose herself.
But her mind kept replaying what just happened.
Scarlett dismissing her. Ordering her to leave.
Like she was some kind of servant.
Her own daughter.
Viviana walked down the hallway. Through the club's elegant foyer. Past other members having afternoon tea.
She kept her head high. Her expression neutral.
But inside she was seething.
When did everything go so wrong?
She remembered when Scarlett first came back from Montana. Six months ago.
That first morning. Scarlett had come down to breakfast at six-thirty. Hair brushed. Dressed neatly in clothes that didn't quite fit.
"Good morning." Scarlett's voice had been soft. Hesitant.
Viviana had barely looked up from her iPad. "Morning."
But Scarlett had come back the next day. And the day after that.
Every single morning. Six-thirty sharp. No matter what.
She'd sit quietly at the table. Eat whatever was put in front of her. Never complained.
Sometimes she'd ask questions. Small things.
"Did you sleep well?"
"Is there anything you need today?"
"Would you like me to pick up your dry cleaning?"
Viviana had found it annoying at first. This girl trying so hard.
But after a few weeks... it became routine.
Almost nice.
Then there were the shopping trips.
Scarlett had offered to go with her to Bergdorf Goodman. Help her pick out a gown for the Metropolitan Museum Gala.
Viviana had said yes. Mostly because Zelda was busy with school.
But Scarlett had surprised her.
She'd pulled dresses. Matched accessories. Gave honest opinions.
"That color washes you out."
"This one makes you look ten years younger."
"The beading on this is tacky. You're better than that."
And she'd been right. Every time.
The gown Scarlett picked had gotten compliments all night.
After that, Viviana started bringing Scarlett to more events.
Just for the prep work. Hair appointments. Dress fittings. Making sure everything was perfect.
Scarlett never complained. Never got bored. Just helped.
She learned fast too.
Started remembering things without being told.
Viviana's coffee order: two sugars, one spoonful of cream, in a porcelain cup not a mug.
Her favorite flowers: white roses. Never carnations. Those were for funerals.
The jewelry she wore with which outfits.
Which shoes hurt her feet after an hour.
Little things. But they mattered.
And when Viviana got her migraines...
God, those were awful. The light sensitivity. The nausea. The pain that made her want to scream.
Scarlett would close all the curtains. Turn off every light. Tell the staff to be quiet.
She'd bring ice packs. Sit in the dark room. Not talking. Just there.
Sometimes she'd read aloud softly. Articles from Vogue or Town & Country. Her voice barely above a whisper.
It helped. More than Viviana wanted to admit.
Viviana had been touched. Despite herself.
Yes, this girl was from Montana. Yes, she'd grown up in foster care. Yes, she didn't know how to dress or talk properly.
But she was trying.
Really trying.
For the first time since Scarlett came back, Viviana had thought: Maybe this could work. Maybe she could learn to accept this girl.
Then everything changed.
She didn't know when exactly. But at some point, Scarlett stopped trying.
Stopped coming to breakfast.
Stopped offering to help.
Stopped caring.
And now... now she'd moved out completely.
Living with Damon Wolfe in some mansion. Acting like the Romano family didn't exist.
Treating Viviana like garbage.
Worse than garbage. At least you don't publicly humiliate garbage at The Plaza Hotel.
Viviana pushed through the club's front doors. The afternoon sun hit her face.
Too bright. Too hot.
She pulled out her phone. Scrolled through her contacts.
Found Miranda's number. Hit call.
Two rings.
"Viviana! How did it go?"
Her best friend since college. The only person who really understood her.
"Terrible." Viviana's voice cracked. "Absolutely terrible."
"Oh honey. What happened?"
Viviana walked toward her car. The valet was already pulling it around.
"She destroyed the gold coin right in front of me."
"She what?"
"Crushed it. With her bare hand. Just... squeezed it until it was ruined."
Silence on the other end.
"Miranda?"
"I'm here. I'm just... that's insane. Who does that?"
"Scarlett does." Viviana got in her car. Slammed the door. "My own daughter. The one I carried for nine months. The one I pushed out of my body after sixteen hours of labor."
Her hands gripped the steering wheel. White-knuckled.
"I asked her to do one thing. One thing. Marry Adrian Santoro. Give the Santoro family an heir. That's it."
"That's not even asking that much," Miranda said. "The Santoros are one of the Five Families. She'd be set for life."
"Exactly! But does she see it that way? No. She acts like I'm asking her to jump off a bridge."
Viviana started the car. Pulled out onto Fifth Avenue.
"And the way she talked to me, Miranda. The disrespect. She actually ordered me to leave the room."
"She did not."
"She did. In front of Kalliope Santoro. Made me look like... like..."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm nobody. Like I'm not her mother."
Miranda made a sympathetic sound. "I'm so sorry, honey. That must have been humiliating."
"It was."
Viviana felt tears prickling at her eyes. Blinked them back hard.
"I don't understand what happened. When she first came back, she was sweet. Grateful. Trying so hard to fit in."
"And now?"
"Now she hates me. I can see it in her eyes."
"Did something trigger this?"
Viviana thought about it. "The pregnancy. That's when everything changed."
"Right. The pregnancy."
"We were just trying to help her. Find a solution. She's twenty- two years old, unmarried, pregnant. What was she supposed to do?"
"Exactly."
"But she acted like we were the enemy. Like we were attacking her."
Viviana turned onto Park Avenue. Traffic was heavy.
"She humiliated us. The entire Romano family. Made us look like monsters."
"You're not monsters."
"I know that! You know that! But everyone else..."
"They'll forget about it," Miranda said. "Give it a few weeks. Some other scandal will come along."
"That's not the point."
"Then what is?"
Viviana was quiet for a moment.
"She's my daughter. My blood. I carried her. Gave birth to her. Raised her for three years before she was kidnapped."
Her voice broke.