Drenched in Heartache

Vivienne barely held herself together long enough to reach the elevator.

She kept her head down, but the secretary’s gaze still lingered, a subtle smirk playing on her lips. Vivi’s stomach twisted in mortification. Does she know?

Of course she did. Everyone in this building knew who Weston Carter was. Knew that his sudden, mysterious marriage to her had been nothing more than a business arrangement.

Her limbs felt heavy, her legs trembling beneath her as she pressed the button with unsteady fingers. The doors slid shut behind her, sealing her away from one sterile, lifeless space and into another. She exhaled a shaky breath, her body slumping against the cool metal walls.

She couldn't bring herself to think about what had just happened in that office—what he had done, what she had allowed. Calling it intimacy would be a lie. It had been transactional, mechanical, devoid of the passion she'd once dreamed of sharing with Weston Carter. It hadn't even been good. It had hurt—physically, yes, but the pain in her body paled in comparison to the ache in her chest, a raw, gaping wound of humiliation and heartbreak.

Tears burned the edges of her vision.

This marriage was a mistake.

She had known it the moment he had demanded she meet him at the courthouse two weeks ago. Known it when he hadn't so much as touched her after that, not even for appearances. But she had held onto hope. A cruel, foolish hope that maybe, if she gave herself to him, he might see her, might want her the way she had always wanted him.

Instead, she'd been discarded.

Vivi wiped angrily at her damp cheeks as the elevator neared the lobby. She had to pull herself together before she stepped out. The last thing she needed was an audience for her disgrace.

She straightened, ignoring the soreness that radiated through her body, and willed her face into a neutral expression. As the doors slid open, she forced one foot in front of the other, crossing the gleaming marble floor with as much composure as she could muster.

Humiliation clawed up her throat.

Her pace quickened, heels clicking unevenly, betraying her unsteady legs as she pushed through the revolving doors and out onto the city street.

Then she felt it.

A cold droplet landed on her bare shoulder. Another on her cheek.

And then, the sky cracked open.

Rain poured down in torrents, soaking her within seconds.

Vivi gasped, the chill shocking her system, but she welcomed it. It masked the tears she could no longer control, washing away the remnants of whatever dignity she had left.

She kept walking.

Two steps—her feet splashed through a puddle, the water seeping into her shoes.

Three steps—her hair clung to her skin in wet strands, mascara smudging beneath her eyes.

Four steps—her sundress, already pale, turned translucent against her trembling frame.

A month ago, she had been someone. Vivienne Aldridge, the golden girl, the beloved daughter of one of the most powerful families in the city. She had been driven in sleek town cars, attended charity galas, sipped champagne on rooftop terraces. She had been wanted.

Now? She couldn’t even hail a cab.

She raised a hand desperately as a taxi approached, but the driver barely spared her a glance before accelerating past, unwilling to let her drenched form ruin his pristine leather seats.

She swallowed hard.

Her hands balled into fists at her sides as she trudged forward. Further. Further. Away from his office. Away from his cold, impassive gaze. Away from the illusion of a future she had once foolishly believed in.

The rain began to ease, but her tears did not.

The ache in her body, the emptiness in her heart—it was all still there. A cruel reminder of what she had lost today.

What she had never really had.

She wasn’t sure how long she walked, but soon, towering buildings surrounded her, glass and steel structures that dwarfed even Carter Industries.

A taxi appeared in the distance, slowing at the curb. Hope sparked inside her as she lifted her hand once more, silently praying the driver would stop.

The car sped up.

Vivi barely had time to react before it barreled through a deep puddle.

The water surged toward her in a filthy tidal wave.

She flinched, bracing for the impact—

But it never came.

Instead, a figure stepped in front of her, shielding her from the worst of the spray.

Either side of her, the water splashed against the pavement, missing her by mere inches. She blinked through the rain, her breath catching as she took in the broad shoulders, the drenched dark suit, the strong posture of the man standing between her and the street.

Slowly, she raised her head.

Her pulse skittered.

Even through sunglasses, dark eyes met hers, filled with something unreadable. His chiseled jaw was clenched, rain dripping from his tousled black hair onto the sharp angles of his cheekbones. He was breathtaking in a way that had nothing to do with the designer suit he wore and everything to do with the effortless confidence that radiated from him.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then, in a voice as smooth as the storm rolling above them, he said, “Hey. Are you alright?”

Vivi stared up at him, rain still falling around them, her heart hammering against her ribs.

And for the first time since stepping into Weston Carter’s office that afternoon, she felt something other than devastation.