CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Vivian

Morning sunlight spilled across the pale blue walls of my penthouse, so gentle it almost felt unreal. Seoul mornings were always a blur of assistants tugging on my hair, stylists snapping open garment bags, and my mother’s voice slicing through the air. Here, silence reigned. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic and the faint whirr of the building’s central air.

I stretched, toes sinking into the soft rug, and for the first time in years, I didn’t have anywhere to be. No runway, no brand endorsement, no magazine cover to plaster a fake smile on. The thought was both comforting and terrifying.

To chase off the nerves, I slipped into a pair of leggings and a sports bra. If my life were going to restart, it might as well begin with a jog. The city outside my window looked too alive to ignore.

I tied my hair back, slung my earbuds around my neck, and stepped into the hallway.

The timing couldn’t have been worse.

The door across the hall opened, and out came he.

Broad shoulders, tailored shirt rolled up at the sleeves, an expression carved from ice. At his side was a girl in a plaid skirt, a backpack bouncing on her shoulder, chattering away as though she didn’t notice the chill that clung to the man walking beside her.

My eyes narrowed. Recognition slammed into me. The rude stranger from yesterday. The man who sent my bag flying without so much as a sorry.

Mr. Evans.

Of course. Because my life wasn’t already tragic enough — the universe just had to make the brooding billionaire my neighbor.

I muttered under my breath, “Unbelievable.”

His head turned, sharp and precise, and our eyes locked. For a moment, something flickered there. Guilt, maybe. Or annoyance.

He opened his mouth, voice lower than I expected. “About yesterday—”

“Wait!” The girl at his side gasped, cutting him off. Her eyes widened, bright as the morning sky. “You’re… you’re Vivian Kim! Aren’t you?”

I blinked. My lips automatically curved into a practiced smile — the one I had flashed at cameras for two decades. “Yes. I am.”

“Oh my God.” She nearly dropped her backpack. “I watched all your runway shows when I was little. You did the Paris Winter Gala in that silver dress with the train that went on forever. You were iconic.”

The warmth in her voice was so real it disarmed me. My model persona slipped fully into place, shoulders relaxed, chin tilted just so. “That was a fun show. Thank you, sweetheart.”

She grinned like I’d just handed her the moon.

Beside her, Mr. Evans looked like he had bitten into something sour. His jaw tightened. “Aurora, we’re late.”

Aurora. So that was her name.

She pouted. “But—”

“No buts.” His tone left no room for argument. He gave me a stiff nod — more like a dismissal than a greeting — before steering her toward the elevator.

I crossed my arms, watching him retreat with Aurora half-grumbling at his side. Rude yesterday. Rude today. Clearly, he had a talent for it.

“Perfect neighbor material,” I muttered as the doors shut behind them.

By the time I finished my run and a long shower, my irritation had mostly faded. Almost. If not for the image of Mr. Evans’ cold stare replaying in my head, it might have been a perfect morning.

Evening slipped into the city quicker than I realized. I decided to explore the building a little, my stomach guiding me more than curiosity. The basement level had a small café tucked into the corner, with the warm scent of roasted beans and sugar drifting out before I even pushed the glass door open.

And there she was again. Aurora.

She was at the counter, clutching a crumpled bill in one hand and staring at the milkshake menu like it held the answers to life. Her eyes darted to me as soon as I walked in, widening all over again.

“Vivian Kim,” she whispered, as if saying my name too loud might make me vanish.

I smiled, this time softer, less practiced. “Hi, Aurora. Rough day at school?”

Her cheeks flushed. “You… remember my name?”

“Of course. You made quite the impression this morning.”

She fiddled with the strap of her backpack, then sighed. “Yeah. School was… school. But a milkshake makes everything better.”

“Smart girl,” I said, sliding up beside her. “Vanilla or chocolate?”

“Strawberry,” she answered without hesitation, grinning.

When she had her cup in hand, she surprised me by blurting, “I’m sorry about Vincent. He’s… well, he’s always like that. Protective. Over-serious. Kind of annoying.”

I almost choked on my latte. “Vincent?”

She nodded like it was obvious. “Yeah. My brother. Well, adoptive, but still. He thinks the whole world is out to get me, so he acts like a guard dog.”

Brother. The word tugged at something in me. For a man who acted like he had no heart, the way he hovered over her said otherwise.

Still, I couldn’t help smirking. “That explains the scowl. He could at least work on his manners, though.”

Aurora giggled, covering her mouth. “I’ll tell him you said that. But don’t take it personally. He’s… complicated.”

We took a table near the corner, and to my surprise, she leaned forward eagerly. “Can I just say… You were my idol. I used to sneak into the orphanage’s library computer just to watch your fashion shows. You looked untouchable, like nothing could shake you. And your walk—oh my God, your walk—”

I laughed, the sound spilling out before I could stop it. “You’re going to make me blush, Aurora.”

She gasped dramatically. “Vivian Kim? Blush? That’s impossible.”

It was ridiculous, but the way she said it made me feel… lighter. Like maybe I wasn’t the washed-up has-been the tabloids painted me as.

Aurora sipped her milkshake, studying me with curious eyes. Then, with all the innocence in the world, she said, “You know, Vincent’s not as scary as he looks. You’d like him if you gave him a chance.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “Excuse me?”

She shrugged, grin widening. “Just saying. He’s not all bad.”

I shook my head, laughing, though inside I felt my chest tighten. “Well, good thing I’m not here to make friends with my neighbors.”

“Sure,” Aurora teased, standing to toss her empty cup. “But you looked at him this morning.”

My mouth fell open, but she was already skipping out of the café, backpack bouncing, strawberry scent lingering in the air.

I pressed a hand to my face. “Great. Now even the teenager thinks I’m crazy.”

But long after she left, I was still thinking about his eyes.