(6) Did You See Their Face?

The ballroom fell silent as Vivianne Goldthorne rose from her seat. Every eye in the room followed her ascent to the stage.

The resemblance was uncanny.

Whispers rippled through the crowd like the serene ocean disturbed by growing waves. Two years ago, Charity Redwood, the beloved actress, the scandal-ridden wife of Samuel Collins; had died.

And now, here was this woman, this ghost, gliding across the stage as if she owned it. The irony was not vague on anyone: the woman who looked exactly like Samuel Collins's deceased ex-wife was now stealing the spotlight from his current one.

"Quite the entrance for our new decorated actress tonight," the host beamed, handing her the microphone with a smile that looked too mocking for Violet. "Care to have a few introductory words for the veterans of our industry?"

'Vivianne' accepted the mic with a confidence that was almost taunting. Her smile was calm and practiced but her gaze, when it landed on Samuel and Violet's table, carried a weight that only they could feel.

"Pathetic," she thought, her blue eyes locking onto Violet's pale face. "You really are pathetic with me here."

She glanced away, letting her gaze sweep across the room. Beneath her composed exterior, her hands trembled with anticipation.

Two years of resilience, of rebuilding herself from the ultimate betrayal, had led to this moment. And she was just getting started.

"Good evening to all of us," she began, her voice sweet as honey. "Especially to our crowned Best Actress of the Year, Mrs. Violet Collins."

She turned fully toward Violet's table, her smile never wavering. She watched with quiet satisfaction as the traitor, the woman who had been her best friend, her confidante, stiffened. Violet's face drained of color, her knuckles white where she gripped the armrest of her chair.

"I started my career as a small side character in every film, just like Mrs. Collins," Charity continued, her tone warm and ingratiating. "It was difficult at first. Then I was recognized by the talent agency 1 Entertainment and luckily received a sponsorship from them. I couldn't believe my dream was slowly starting, and tonight, I am just beginning my success. To be inspired by a one-of-a-kind actress like Mrs. Collins makes me even more excited to receive an award like hers one day."

The audience applauded politely, but Violet felt the words like daggers. Beside her, Pia gasped audibly, leaning in close.

"Oh my god," Pia whispered, her voice trembling. "She looks like Cha--"

"Shut up, Pia!" Violet hissed, her eyes blazing. "It's obvious, so shut up!"

Pia recoiled, murmuring her dissatisfaction under her breath, but Violet's mind was racing. The woman in the restroom. The face she had seen in the mirror. It hadn't been a hallucination, hadn't been anxiety. Vivianne Goldthorne was real. And she looked exactly like the woman Violet had killed.

Samuel leaned toward Violet, frowning at the cruel smile that had crept onto her lips.

"What's funny?" he asked, his voice low.

Violet blinked, startled out of her reverie. "What? No, nothing."

She cleared her throat, reaching for a glass of wine on the table. Her eyes followed Vivianne as the woman descended the stage, greeted by a flurry of flashing cameras and congratulatory handshakes.

"1 Entertainment?" Violet thought, her grip tightening on the stem of the glass. "That agency backed by some unknown billionaire. They always fight over films and investors with Samuel's agency, and I can barely keep those rich investors on our side. Now that I'm the Best Actress of the Year... who are you, really, Vivianne Goldthorne?"

She took a sip of wine, her mind already plotting.

"Let's see how you lose every award to me. Let's see how quickly those dumb staff members of yours cast you aside."

---

Baron Collins sat cross-legged on his bed, his small fingers tapping furiously against his tablet. The screen buzzed, gray and black dots flowing across it. He had been at this for hours, bypassing security protocols and firewalls that would have stumped adults twice his age. Finally, the livestream flickered to life.

"..Vivianne Goldthorne!" the host announced, and Baron cheered, punching the air in triumph.

But his celebration was short-lived. As the camera panned to the stage, capturing the woman accepting her award, Baron's breath caught in his throat. His blue eyes widened in disbelief.

"Eh?" he murmured, leaning closer to the screen.

The woman smiled, and Baron felt his heart lurch. He knew that smile. He had dreamed of it for two years, had prayed every night for it to return.

"Mom...?" The word slipped from his lips like a prayer, barely audible.

---

Charity navigated the crowd with ease, her bodyguards forming a protective barrier around her. She waved, her smile sweet and radiant, but her eyes were already scanning for the limousine waiting at the curb.

Paige, her personal assistant, opened the rear door with a curt bow. Tall, blonde, and impeccably dressed in a white suit, he gestured for her to enter.

"Mr. Cassian is inside," he said softly.

Charity nodded and slipped into the vehicle, the door closing behind her with a soft thud. The interior was cool and dimly lit, the scent of leather and expensive cologne filling the space. Across from her sat a man whose presence seemed to fill the entire car.

Lucas Cassian.

His slick black hair was perfectly styled, not a strand out of place. His sharp, angular features were almost too beautiful, too intimidating, and his dark eyes seemed to see straight through her.

Charity had known him for two years now, but she never felt entirely unguarded around him. He was a man who demanded control, who gave nothing away, and whose motives were as opaque as his gaze.

"Congratulations," Lucas said, his voice low and measured. "You were magnificent tonight."

"Thank you." Charity replied, her tone careful. She convinced herself his praises were empty shells but she had seen how women would vie for his words.

Before she could say more, a shadow darted past the security tapes, slipping under the barricades that held back the paparazzi. Paige moved to intercept, but the figure was too fast.

A small, blonde blur that launched itself into the limousine and landed squarely in Charity's lap!

"Mom!"

Charity froze.

Baron's arms wrapped around her neck, his small body trembling with a desperate, bone-deep relief.

"You came back!" he cried out. "I knew it! I knew you weren't gone!"

Lucas's eyes narrowed, his gaze flicking to Paige. The assistant moved instantly, closing the door before any photographer could capture the scene.

"Baron..." Charity's voice faltered. She looked down at the boy clutching her, and for a moment, the mask slipped.

She saw the son she had left behind, the child she had been forced to abandon to survive. Her hand rose instinctively to stroke his curly locks.

But then she felt Lucas's gaze on her, cold and unyielding. She knew what he was telling her without words: No mistakes.

"Baron Collins, is it?" she said softly, forcing a serene smile. "My name is Vivianne. I know your parents. Would you like me to bring you back to them?"

Baron pulled back, his face crumpling. "But... we're finally together..."

The hope in his eyes was unbearable. He searched her face, looking for any trace of the mother he had lost, but Charity kept her expression carefully neutral. She couldn't afford to break.

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I'm not who you think I am."

Lucas's voice cut through the silence. "Little boy, get off Miss Vivianne."

Baron's gaze snapped to Lucas, and for a moment, the two locked eyes. The boy's expression hardened, a surprising coldness flickering in his blue irises.

"Cant recognize a scary man when you see one?" Lucas drawled, his tone full of sarcasm.

"I know a despot when I see one," Baron shot back, his voice sharp beyond his years.

Charity bit her lip, suppressing a laugh despite herself. She had been wanting to say that to Lucas' face for a long time.

Lucas's eye twitched. "You're too... fluent for your age." He leaned back, resting his chin on his hand. "Let's return him. Lest the Collins couple charges us with kidnapping."

"No!" Baron's arms tightened around Charity. "I want to stay with my mom!"

The word hit Charity like a physical blow. Her face softened despite herself, and she gently pried Baron's arms loose, guiding him to sit beside her on the plush seat.

"Your parents will be worried about you," she said, her voice tender but firm. She patted his head, and his trembling subsided slightly. "How did you find me?"

Baron hesitated, glancing at Lucas. "Easy! From the surv--uh..." He stopped himself, realizing he had almost revealed too much.

"Online?" he finished weakly.

Charity tittered, but Lucas's sharp eyes narrowed. He didn't believe a word of it.

The car rolled to a stop, and the driver's voice filtered through the intercom. "Sir, I see the Collins couple ahead."

The parking lot was quiet, reserved for the hotel's elite guests. Charity nodded to Lucas, then opened the door and ushered Baron out.

"Baron! Where have you been?!" Samuel's voice rang out, panicked and sharp. He ran toward them, his face a mixture of relief and anger.

Baron kept his head down, his small hands gripping the edges of his coat.

Violet hung back, her heels frozen on the pavement, her face ashen when she finally recognized the woman standing beside her stepson.

"Sir Samuel Collins? Is he your son?" Charity asked, her voice calm and pleasant.

Samuel's eyes darted between her and Baron, wariness flickering across his face. "Yes. Thank you for bringing him back."

"The boy was lost on the way here," Charity explained. "I just helped him return. Please take care of dear Baron. He's such a sweet boy."

"Thank you, Miss..." Samuel squinted, assessing her.

"Goldthorne. Vivianne Goldthorne." She extended her hand, and Samuel shook it reluctantly. Her gaze flicked to Violet, who still hadn't moved. "Oh. It seems Mrs. Collins is here. I would love to speak to both of you, you're legends in the industry. But unfortunately, I have prior appointments."

"I'll handle the boy. Thank you, Miss Goldthorne," Samuel said.

Charity inclined her head and turned away. She didn't look back. She couldn't.

The moment the limousine door closed behind her, she released the breath she had been holding, staring at the crescent-shaped nail marks pressed into her palm.

"You can't let them know," Lucas said, his voice flat.

"I'm trying," she whispered, her composure cracking for just a moment.

The car pulled away, the Collins growing smaller in the rear window. Lucas's smirk was visible in the dim light, a predatory glint in his eyes.

"You will take everything back. There's no rush." He tilted his head, studying her. "Have you prepared for next week?"

Charity paused, searching her memory. Then she remembered.

It was 'that' opportunity!

"Of course," she said, her voice hardening. The weakness on her face vanished, replaced by venom. "Violet's career is the first thing to go."