Chapter 3 - Rearview Reflections

Vienna’s POV

We drove through the bustling center of Kingsford. Inside the car, the air was thick with something heavier than silence.

My mind was racing. The image of Warren’s ex—my lookalike—kept flashing behind my eyes.

What if Warren’s love for me was just a mirage? Had I ever really been me in his story? Or was I just filling a space someone else had left behind?

He was Warren Hale. Handsome. Smart. Inheritor of Luxe—one of the most prestigious hotel chains on the East Coast. He could have had anyone. Yet he chose me.

But now, I wasn’t sure if it was really me he wanted. What if it had really been about his ex all along?

"Are you ready for this new chapter, Des?" Warren asked, glimpsing back at Desiree.

"Yeah," she said in a small voice.

"Well, we’re very excited to have you. Isn’t that right, Vienna?" he asked.

"Hmm," I hummed quietly. Did he really expect me to be excited? This had all been decided over my head—Warren hadn’t even given me the time to respond, let alone think it through.

I glanced at the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Desiree slumped against the back window. Her skin looked pale, and she shifted uncomfortably.

"Warren? I feel carsick," she said faintly. "Can I move up front?"

Warren immediately pulled over and looked at me. "V, would you mind?"

I hesitated. She had just had a miscarriage… but still, something in me bristled. I was his wife. I shouldn’t need to move aside for his stepsister every time she whispered.

But I nodded anyway. "Sure," I said, unclipping my seatbelt and sliding out.

"Thanks, Warren," Desiree replied, blatantly ignoring me. She moved slowly, dramatically, into the passenger seat. Like a porcelain doll being repositioned. 

I settled into the back. Maybe I was being petty, but the symbolism wasn’t lost on me—me in the backseat, her up front with my husband.

Through the mirror, I noticed something glinting on her neck—a silver necklace, delicate and unfamiliar. 

Bella’s voice echoed in my mind—"They were at the jewelry store. Laughing. Touching."

It could be totally unrelated, or so I tried to convince myself. But part of me knew better.

"That’s a beautiful necklace," I said carefully, forcing my tone to sound casual.

Desiree turned her head slightly and smiled, a glint of pride and triumph in her eyes. "Isn’t it? Graduation gift. From Warren."

My breath caught in my throat. He bought her jewelry?

Not just some trinket—but something elegant, expensive, meaningful. A graduation gift, she said. But it felt like more than that. The kind of gift you give someone you cherish beyond family ties.

There was nothing about their so-called sibling relationship that felt normal. The closeness. Her lingering touches. The way she looked at him like he belonged to her. And now this necklace—shining around her neck like a quiet, smug claim.

Warren, oblivious, chimed in like a clueless narrator. "You like it, babe? I helped pick it out."

Seriously?

I offered a tight smile. "It’s lovely."

The spacious BMW suddenly felt too small. Claustrophobic. The scent of Desiree’s overly sweet perfume filled every corner. It clung to the leather seats and saturated the air. I suddenly felt a wave of nausea rise in my throat.

"Not now," I whispered to myself, swallowing back a groan.

Those early pregnancy waves hit hard. Especially when you’re trying to pretend you’re not pregnant.

I closed my eyes, willing the nausea to pass, beads of sweat breaking across my forehead. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to focus on breathing evenly.

"Vienna? Are you okay?" Warren asked, glancing at me through the mirror, concern soft in his voice.

"Just a little carsick," I murmured.

Desiree snorted. "Unfortunately, there’s only room for one in the front." She probably thought I was feigning it because she’d taken my place. 

I looked at her reflection and managed to keep my face calm, but inside I was thinking, "That’s one thing we finally agree on". There was barely room for one of us in this marriage. And she clearly had no plans of backing down.

She went on. "Your villa is gorgeous, brother, but you know… with two women under one roof, it might feel a little tight."

He laughed heartily. 

"I’m only partially joking," she added, her voice turning pitiful. "It’s quite clear that Vienna doesn’t really want me moving in." 

"It might take some getting used to, but I’m sure she’ll warm up to you," Warren replied warmly.

She touched his arm. "Thanks, brother. You always know what to say to make me feel better."

I sat there, blood boiling. They were speaking about me as if I weren’t right here. Was he so blind to her blatant manipulations? Couldn’t he see what she was trying to do?

The wrought iron gates of Warren’s estate finally came into view. Relief washed over me. I needed air. Space. Time to think.

The butler greeted us as we pulled up, and Warren hopped out to help unload. I stayed seated a moment longer, grounding myself. As I stepped out, the sun hit my face, and for a second I could almost forget how suffocating the ride had been.

But then, one of Desiree’s oversized suitcases tipped off the cart and burst open, spilling its contents across the smooth stone driveway.

"Oh no!" she cried, "My Louis Vuitton!"

I immediately bent down to help clean up the mess. But then…

Among her clothes were several shirts. Warren’s shirts. His favorite white linen one. The navy button-down I’d seen him wear on our anniversary.

What the hell?