Vivienne's POV
My phone won't stop ringing.
I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, when it starts buzzing at 2:00 AM. The screen lights up with a name that makes my stomach drop: Celeste.
For a second, I consider ignoring it. But Celeste never calls this late unless something's wrong. What if she's hurt? What if she needs me?
I grab the phone. "Celeste? Are you okay?"
"Vivienne!" Her voice is bright and excited, like it's the middle of the day instead of the middle of the night. "Did I wake you? Oh my God, I'm so sorry! I keep forgetting about the time difference."
She doesn't sound sorry. She sounds happy. Too happy.
"It's two in the morning," I say, rubbing my eyes.
"I know, I know! But I have amazing news and I couldn't wait to tell you!" She squeals so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear. "I'm coming home! Like, permanently! I just landed at the airport twenty minutes ago!"
My heart stops. "What? You're here? In the city? Right now?"
"Yes! Isn't it exciting? I got so tired of Paris. It's beautiful but so lonely, you know? I missed home. I missed you." She pauses. "I missed... everything."
Something in her voice makes my skin crawl. That pause was too long. Too meaningful.
"That's... that's great, Celeste," I manage to say. "Where are you staying?"
"I got a hotel for tonight, but I'll find an apartment soon. Actually..." Her voice gets higher, like it always does when she wants something. "I was thinking maybe I could stay with you for a few days? Just until I find a place? It would be like old times!"
Old times. When she was the beautiful, fun little sister and I was the boring older one who took care of everything. When everyone loved her and barely noticed me.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," I say carefully.
"Oh, come on! I promise I won't be in the way. Plus, I'm dying to see that gorgeous penthouse you live in. I've only seen pictures!" She laughs. "You're so lucky, Viv. Married to Damien Sterling. Living in luxury. It's like a fairy tale!"
A fairy tale. That's what she thinks my life is.
"It's not really—" I start to say.
"Speaking of Damien," Celeste interrupts, her voice getting weird. Too casual. Too interested. "How is he? I haven't seen him in forever. Does he still work all the time? Does he still live in that penthouse, or did you guys move?"
My chest tightens. "Why are you asking about Damien?"
"What? I can't ask about my brother-in-law?" She giggles. "Don't be silly, Viv. I'm just curious. We used to be close, you know. Before... well, before everything."
Before everything. Before she dated him. Before I married him. Before he chose obligation over love.
"He's fine," I say, my voice flat. "He's busy. Like always."
"Is he happy?" Celeste asks. The question feels like a trap.
"I... I don't know."
"You don't know if your own husband is happy?" She sounds shocked, but there's something else underneath. Something that sounds almost satisfied. "Viv, that's so sad. You guys should talk more! Communication is everything in a marriage."
I want to scream. She has no idea. She has no idea what it's like to love someone who won't even look at you. To sleep in separate bedrooms. To be married to a ghost.
"I should go," I say. "It's late."
"Wait! One more thing." Her voice drops lower, almost a whisper. "Is Damien... is he seeing anyone? Like, is your marriage... you know... real?"
The question hits me like a slap.
"What kind of question is that?" I demand.
"I'm just asking! No judgment, Viv. I know you guys got married super fast because of... well, you know. The pregnancy scare that turned out to be nothing." She sighs dramatically. "I always wondered if you two actually fell in love or if it was just... convenient."
Convenient. She thinks our marriage is convenient.
"Celeste, I really need to go—"
"I'll come by tomorrow afternoon!" she says brightly, like we're having a normal conversation. "Around 2:00 PM? I can't wait to see you! And Damien too, of course. Tell him I said hi!"
She hangs up before I can respond.
I sit there in the dark, phone clutched in my hand, heart racing. Something's wrong. Something's very wrong.
The way she asked about Damien. The weird questions about our marriage. The too-innocent tone that didn't match her words.
She wants him back.
The realization crashes over me like ice water. My baby sister—the one I raised, the one I protected, the one I married Damien to save from scandal—wants my husband.
Maybe she's always wanted him. Maybe that's why she went to Paris. Maybe she's been waiting for the right time to come back and take him.
I get out of bed, my legs shaky. I need water. I need air. I need to think.
I walk down the dark hallway toward the kitchen. That's when I hear it.
Damien's voice, coming from his study. The door is cracked open just slightly, and light spills into the hallway. He's on the phone.
I should keep walking. I should give him privacy. But something makes me stop. Something makes me move closer to the door.
"She's here?" Damien says. His voice is tight. Stressed. "Already? I thought she wasn't coming until next week."
Who is he talking about? Who's here?
"Don't tell Vivienne yet," he continues. "She doesn't need to know."
My heart stops beating.
"I'll handle it," Damien says. "I just... I need time. I'm not ready for her to find out." He's quiet for a moment, listening to whoever's on the other end. "No, she can't come to the penthouse. Not yet. Keep her away until I figure out what to say."
Keep who away?
"This changes everything," Damien says, and his voice cracks. Actually cracks with emotion. "Seven years. Seven years and now she shows up out of nowhere. What am I supposed to do?"
He's talking about Celeste. He has to be talking about Celeste.
Seven years. That's how long we've been married. That's how long he's been waiting.
"I know, I know," Damien says. "But Vivienne... God, Vivienne is going to be destroyed when she finds out. And I can't... I can't hurt her anymore. She deserves better than this."
I stumble backward, away from the door. My hand covers my mouth to keep from making a sound. Tears burn my eyes.
He's going to leave me. He's going to leave me for Celeste.
All these years, I thought he was cold because he didn't care. But maybe he was cold because he cared too much—about someone else. About my sister.
I turn and run back to my room as quietly as I can. My whole body is shaking. I climb into bed and pull the covers over my head like I'm a child hiding from monsters.
But the monster is real. The monster is my life falling apart.
My phone buzzes. Another text from Celeste: "Can't sleep! Too excited! Send me a pic of the penthouse? I want to see where you live! 😊"
Then another: "Actually, send me a pic of Damien too! I want to see if he still looks the same. I bet he's even more handsome now! 😍"
The heart-eyes emoji feels like a knife.
I throw my phone across the room. It hits the wall with a satisfying crash.
Seven years of being invisible. Seven years of hoping he'd see me. Seven years of loving a man who was in love with someone else.
And tomorrow, that someone else is coming to take him away.
But as I lie there in the dark, something new starts growing inside me. Not just pain. Not just heartbreak.
Anger.
I'm angry at Celeste for asking about my husband like he's up for grabs. I'm angry at Damien for keeping secrets and making plans without telling me. I'm angry at myself for being so stupid, so blind, so pathetically hopeful.
Seven years is enough.
If Damien wants Celeste, fine. He can have her. But I won't make it easy. I won't stand by and watch them fall in love while I fade into nothing.
Tomorrow, Celeste comes to the penthouse.
Tomorrow, I watch my husband choose her over me.
And tomorrow, I start planning my escape.
Because I'm done being the forgotten wife. I'm done being invisible. I'm done breaking my own heart for a man who never wanted it in the first place.
Tomorrow, everything changes.
But not the way they think.