Chapter 4

The sound of the front door being opened roughly shattered the silence of the night exactly at one in the morning. Vivienne, who had been curled up in the dark corner of the second-floor hallway, immediately tensed. Unsteady footsteps and soft flirtatious giggles echoed through the living room.

It was Dominic. And he was not alone.

Vivienne gathered the courage to peek through the gap in the stair railing. Down below, beneath the dim lights of the living room, Dominic—heavily drunk—looked completely helpless as Giselle guided his body toward the long sofa. The moment Dominic’s tall body collapsed against the velvet couch, Giselle wasted no time. The woman immediately climbed onto him, sitting on Dominic’s stomach in an extremely intimate position.

“Dominic... you’re so drunk, Hmm?” Giselle whispered, her voice low and seductive.

Dominic did not answer with words. Instead, he wrapped his arms around Giselle’s waist, pulling her slender body closer until their chests collided. The next second, the disgusting sight unfolded mercilessly before Vivienne’s eyes. They poured out the longing they had suppressed for five years with brutal intensity. Giselle lowered her head, burying her face in the crook of Dominic’s neck, sucking at the skin there until reddish marks appeared in contrast against it. Dominic groaned deeply, his hands moving wildly over Giselle’s hips, demanding more.

As if that was not enough, Giselle tilted her head back, allowing Dominic to leave marks along her slender neck in return. The woman’s hips began moving up and down on top of Dominic’s body, triggering heavy and vulgar breaths that filled the silent room.

Disgusting. Truly disgusting.

Yet behind the nausea rising inside her, something foreign and hot suddenly spread through Vivienne’s veins. Her chest pounded violently, and her breathing became short and uneven. Two years of marriage. Two years of being left numb without ever knowing what it felt like to be touched, embraced, or desired as a woman. Watching such explosive passion downstairs suddenly coated her curvy body with a torturous frustration. Vivienne wanted that touch. She longed to feel valued as a living being with desire, not merely a decoration condemned to exist.

With tears finally spilling down her cheeks, Vivienne turned away. She hurried toward her room at the end of the hallway, shutting the door tightly and locking it.

Inside the cold bedroom, Vivienne slid down against the door. She covered her mouth tightly to stop the sound of her sobs from escaping. The pain in her heart tonight existed on an entirely different level. Her husband refused to divorce her, yet shamelessly brought his mistress into their home and made out with her in the living room without considering Vivienne’s presence at all.

In the middle of her despair and burning humiliation, the image of Alistair Vance’s firm and powerful face suddenly crossed her mind. The older man’s words echoed once again inside her head: “Call me when you’re tired of crying.”

With trembling hands, Vivienne grabbed her phone from the bedside table. She stared at the black business card with gold lettering for a moment before her finger pressed the numbers written on it.

The call connected. It did not take long. By the second ring, a deep and calm baritone voice greeted her ears.

“Alistair Vance speaking.”

Vivienne swallowed hard, trying to steady her hoarse voice after crying. “It’s... it’s me. Vivienne.”

There was a brief silence on the other end before a low exhale that sounded satisfied reached her ears. “I knew you would call, Darling. So, what’s your decision?”

“I agree,” Vivienne answered quickly, as though afraid her courage would disappear if she hesitated. “I accept your offer. But... legally, I’m still Dominic’s wife. I can’t leave this mansion yet.”

Alistair’s low chuckle echoed slowly, radiating absolute dominance. “Your formal marital status with that boy means nothing to me, Vivienne. Good. Come to my office tomorrow at ten in the morning.”

The call ended immediately. Vivienne lowered her phone, staring at the bedroom ceiling with mixed emotions. She knew this was the wrong path, a sinful one. But she no longer cared.

The next morning, the atmosphere inside the mansion felt as cold as a graveyard. The master bedroom door downstairs remained tightly shut. The large room Vivienne had been strictly forbidden to enter during the past two years. Inside, her husband and Giselle were probably still sleeping soundly after a long night.

Vivienne stared at the door blankly. Today, she did not touch the kitchen at all. She did not cook breakfast, did not clean the house, and refused to continue being Dominic’s unpaid maid. Exactly at eight in the morning, wearing a cream-colored blouse and a pencil skirt that tightly wrapped around her curvy body, Vivienne walked out of the house without looking back.

She decided to take a regular taxi into the city center. But unfortunately, bad luck still refused to leave her life. Halfway through the trip, in a rather quiet area far from any bus stop, the taxi engine suddenly sputtered before dying completely.

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, the engine broke down. It seems there’s a problem with the radiator,” the taxi driver said with a panicked expression.

Vivienne let out a long sigh. She glanced at the watch on her wrist. There was still time, but taxis rarely passed through this area. Forced into the situation, Vivienne stepped out of the car and stood by the roadside beneath the increasingly scorching morning sun, trying her luck while waiting for another empty taxi to pass by.

Vroooom!

The deafening roar of a sports car engine shattered the silence of the road. A bright red Lamborghini sped past before suddenly slowing down dramatically the moment it passed Vivienne, eventually stopping right in front of her.

The dark car window slowly rolled down, revealing a handsome young man sitting behind the wheel.

Tristan Vance.

At only twenty-two years old, Alistair’s only son lived a life filled with luxury as an elite university student. His handsome face radiated a rebellious aura, the type of man accustomed to using his money and looks to sleep with women in order to escape the loneliness and lack of affection in his life.

“Need a ride?” Tristan asked with a crooked smile that looked mocking yet charming.

Vivienne immediately shook her head firmly. She knew who this young man was. Tristan’s photos often appeared in business magazines beside Alistair. The son of the monster who came to my house last night, Vivienne thought bitterly. She was certain this boy was no different from his father, a man who enjoyed playing with women.

“No, thank you. I’m waiting for a taxi,” Vivienne answered as coldly as possible.

Being rejected directly only made Tristan feel challenged. The young man turned off his engine, opened the door, and stepped out. His tall body wrapped in a black leather jacket stood in front of Vivienne, blocking her view.

“Taxis rarely pass by here at this hour. How long are you planning to stand under the sun? You could faint,” Tristan said while crossing his arms over his chest. “Come on, get in. Where are you going? I’ll take you there. Besides... we haven’t introduced ourselves yet. What’s your name?”

Tristan pretended not to know her, even though he knew perfectly well that the woman standing before him was Dominic’s wife, the same woman who caused chaos at the banquet last night.

Vivienne stared into the young man’s eyes, trying to find traces of dishonesty, but eventually she sighed in defeat. “Vivienne. My name is Vivienne.”

“I’m Tristan,” the young man replied shortly while opening the passenger door for her. “Please get in, Vivienne.”

Realizing time was getting dangerously close to ten o’clock, Vivienne finally cast aside her pride. She stepped into the luxurious passenger seat. Tristan followed behind the wheel, started the engine, and once again sped through the streets.

Inside the silent cabin, the quiet atmosphere suddenly felt tense. Tristan occasionally glanced sideways, staring intensely at Vivienne’s side profile.

Inside, Tristan’s thoughts churned. Interesting, he thought. He had long grown bored of sleeping with beautiful women with perfect bodies who always crawled willingly into his bed for money. Seeing Vivienne’s curvy, full, and soft body wrapped in tight clothes that exposed her figure suddenly ignited a strange curiosity inside Tristan. He wanted to try something new, something he had never experienced before.

Feeling a pair of eyes constantly watching her with inappropriate interest, Vivienne turned her head. She looked at Tristan with a displeased frown.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Vivienne asked, her voice beginning to sound uncomfortable and irritated.

Tristan did not answer immediately. He simply curved his lips into a thin mysterious smile while his eyes returned to the road ahead with an increasingly dangerous gleam of interest.