Her eyes flick over me slowly. Not cruel. Curious. Measuring.
“Scarlett,” I reply, my voice coming out quieter than I intend.
She hums softly. “Pretty name.”
Then, casually—like she’s commenting on the weather—she adds, “I didn’t think he’d marry again.”
My fingers tighten around the glass.
“No?” I manage.
She takes a sip of her drink, eyes still on the party. “God, no. Not after the last time.”
There’s a pause. Just long enough to hurt.
“What… happened?” I ask, even as something in my gut tells me not to.
Vivian smiles. It doesn’t reach her eyes.
“Depends who you ask,” she says. “Officially? Tragic accident. A woman who ‘couldn’t cope.’” My stomach drops. “Unofficially?” she continues lightly. “She stopped existing long before she died.”
I stare at her.
“She was beautiful too,” Vivian goes on. “Radiant, actually. The kind of woman people assume is happy because she looks like she should be. Noah adored her at first. Worshipped her. Bought her things. Dressed her up. Introduced her like a prize.”
My chest feels tight.
“Then she started disappearing,” Vivian says. “Not physically. Just… less of herself. She stopped talking at parties. Stopped laughing. Stopped correcting him when he spoke for her.”
Vivian finally turns to me fully.
“One night, she tried to leave,” she says. “Packed a bag. Told a friend she was going to ‘clear her head.’” I swallow. Hard. “She never made it past the gate.”
Vivian leans closer, voice dropping just enough to feel intimate.
“They said she fell,” she finishes. “Slipped. Terrible luck.” Her gaze searches my face now, sharp and knowing. “Funny thing about Noah,” she adds. “He doesn’t like things that try to escape.”
I can’t breathe properly. The music feels too loud. The lights too bright. The laughter too close.
Across the pool, Noah looks over.
Our eyes meet.
His smile is immediate. Possessive. Satisfied.
Vivian straightens, all elegance again. “Enjoy the party, Scarlett,” she says softly. “You look like you could use the distraction.”
She rises and melts back into the crowd.
My hands are shaking now. I set the drink down untouched.
You don’t belong here.
I stare at the message until the words blur.
Around me, the party keeps breathing. Laughing. Burning bright.
And for the first time, I understand something with terrifying clarity:
