Chapter 14
Vivienne did not confess.
I did not need her to.
Tristan’s recordings already contained more truth than any confession she would offer voluntarily. Matteo had returned. Victor had spoken. Camille had broken from her. Elena stood beside me.
And the children were safe.
That mattered most.
Vivienne’s last weapon was the same one she always used.
Shame.
She looked at Elena.
“You stayed gone for three years because of one letter.”
Elena did not flinch.
Vivienne continued.
“You could have come back.”
I watched Elena’s face.
Then she smiled slightly.
“No.”
Vivienne frowned.
“You could have.”
“I was pregnant, threatened, shown fake proof, and told Cassian wanted nothing to do with me.”
“That doesn’t make you helpless.”
“No.”
Elena stepped closer.
“It makes you responsible.”
Simple.
Clean.
Vivienne turned toward Tristan.
“And you? Twenty-three recordings and still no courage to stop me.”
He nodded.
“Yes.”
That surprised her.
No defense.
No bargaining.
“Yes. I was a coward.”
She lost another weapon.
Finally she looked at me.
“You spent three years searching.”
“Yes.”
“And found nothing.”
“Yes.”
“Some boss.”
That one almost landed.
Then Isla’s voice came back to me.
Daddy Cassian.
No hesitation.
No accusation.
Just recognition she had been allowed to keep even when I had none.
I looked at Vivienne.
“You’re right.”
Her expression changed.
“I failed to find them.”
Elena looked at me.
“I trusted the wrong people. I believed evidence you controlled. I let family reputation matter too much in where I searched.”
I stepped closer.
“That is mine.”
Vivienne stared.
“But stealing them is yours.”
No confusion.
No shared blame.
No escape.
I looked at Tristan.
“Take your mother home.”
Vivienne almost laughed.
“To the estate?”
“No.”
I looked at her.
“To Matteo.”
That frightened her.
Not because Matteo would hurt her.
Because she would have to face a man whose death she had narrated for seven years.
A living contradiction.
The person she erased but never fully destroyed.
May you like
Vivienne’s face became pale.
For the first time, the woman who controlled who could see whom was about to enter a room where everyone she separated could see her clearly.
