"Thank you," I said as we settled into the back seat.
"For what?"
"For being exactly who you are," I saidsimply. "For fitting into my world as easily as I'm learning to fit into yours."
Julian pulled me closer, pressing a kiss to my hair. "Your world is pretty wonderful, Vivienne. I'm honored to be part of it."
And as the car pulled away from my childhood home, heading back to the hotel where we'd spend one more night before returning to our real lives, I realized that we weren't just visiting anymore.
We were building something that bridged both our worlds—something that honored where we'd come from while creating space for where we were going together.
30
Vivienne
The time away had been perfect in ways I hadn't anticipated. After saying goodbye to my parents Saturday morning—Mom with tears in her eyes, Dad with a firm handshake for Julian and a whispered "Take care of our girl"—we'd flown back in comfortable silence, both of us processing the whirlwind of the past few days.
Julian had asked if I'd stay with him through the weekend, his voice casual but his eyes hopeful. I'd agreed without hesitation, realizing that his penthouse was starting to feel less like a museum and more like a place I wanted to be.
We'd stopped by my townhouse to grab more clothes and necessities, and now I stood in Julian's pristine laundry room—which was larger than my bedroom—loading my dirty clothes into a fancy washer that was connected to the internet.
I was reaching for the detergent when my phone rang. Melissa's name flashed on the screen.
"Hey, Mel," I answered, wedging the phone between my shoulder and ear as I measured soap.
"Viv! Oh my God, I saw the photo. The one with Rafael." Her voice was breathless with excitement rather than concern. "Don't worry about it though—I'm sending you something that should help. Check your email."
I frowned, setting down the detergent. "What do you mean?"
"Just check it. I promise you'll want to see this."
I pulled up my email on my phone, finding a message from Melissa with several video attachments. The first showed Rafael on what appeared to be a yacht, completely naked and covered in glitter, attempting some kind of interpretive dance while belting out "Defying Gravity" from Wicked with spectacular incorrectness.
"Melissa," I said slowly, "What am I looking at?"
"Payback," she said with unmistakable satisfaction. "Remember how I told you Rafael brought me to that gallery? Well, I did some digging on him first. Hired a PI, found out about all the women he'd hurt with his little photo schemes. So I decided to do something about it."
I sank onto the bench beside the washer, my laundry forgotten. "You orchestrated this?"
"I got him to give me access to his accounts—men are so easy when they think you're just a pretty airhead—and I sent money to every woman he'd screwed over. Substantial amounts. Then I donated a bunch more to charities in his name. Organizations that help victims of exploitation, women's shelters, that kind of thing."
"Melissa—"
"And then I arranged for him to have the absolute worst night of his life on that yacht. Nothing illegal," she added quickly. "Just extremely humiliating. Just something that gets you dropped by your talent agency and blacklisted from every respectable venue in the city."
I was having trouble reconciling this calculating strategist with the flighty friend who'd abandoned me at The Orpheum. "How did you even—I mean, you've always seemed so—"
"Ditzy?" Melissa's laugh was sharp. "That's the point, Viv. Men like Rafael see what they want to see. A blonde who laughs at their jokes and acts impressed by their mediocre art. They never think someone like me could outsmart them."
"There's more," she continued. "Scarlett Voss was a bitch at that gallery and I found out that she’s been terrorizing women for ages, so I helped orchestrate a little night out for her too. Got her invited to the right parties, made sure she had access to the wrong substances. I didn't think she'd get arrested—that was a bonus—but I figured some bad publicity would shut her up."
I stared at my phone, completely blindsided. "Melissa, that's... that's kind of terrifying."
"That'sstrategic," she corrected. "These people hurt my friend. They needed consequences." Her voice softened. "I know I'm not always there when you need me, Viv. I know I messed up at The Orpheum. But this? This I could fix."
I felt tears prick at my eyes. "Thank you," I said quietly. "I don't know what else to say except thank you."
"You don't have to say anything. Just promise me you'll use those videos if anyone gives you trouble about that photo. Rafael's credibility is destroyed—no one's going to take his side over yours."
