Chapter 302
Vivienne
I look at the pictures and sigh.
The photos are damning—Damien and that omega, Elliot, in various states of intimacy. A parking garage. A hotel lobby. The bathroom at the golf course, somehow captured through a gap in the door. Nothing explicit enough to be pornographic, but more than enough to destroy a political campaign.
Careless. So fucking careless.
I walk toward Damien's room, the photos tucked in a folder under my arm. My heels click against the marble floor, each step echoing in the quiet hallway. Part of me wants to turn around, to pretend I never saw them. Let him burn. Let the whole carefully constructed facade crumble.
Then the face of Daphne appears in my mind. I'm in no position to throw stones.
I knock.
He opens the door, surprised to see me. We don't visit each other's rooms. We don't visit each other at all, beyond the required public appearances.
"What is it?" he asks, already sounding annoyed.
Like I would want to be here.
