CHAPTER 3: The Breakfast Interrogation

SCARLET'S POV

Morning came too soon. I barely slept, tossing on thousand-thread-count sheets in a bedroom that was not mine, wearing silk pajamas that cost more than the most expensive dress I owned. 

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Julian's face. I heard his voice. 

“You belong to me.”

I showered in a bathroom bigger than my entire apartment. Marble floors, heated towel racks, and a rain shower with six different settings. 

Everything smelled like expensive soap and luxury I would never understand. 

I stood in front of a closet Julian had stocked with designer labels, all in Vivian's style. 

Bright colors, fitted cuts, expensive fabrics with tags I recognized from magazines. Nothing I would ever choose for myself. I picked a cream blouse and tailored navy pants, simple and safe.

The makeup took longer. I carefully applied foundation to hide the dark circles under my eyes, then mascara and a Lipstick in a shade Vivian would wear. 

I studied my reflection. I looked like her. I always had. Same face, same coloring. Just different souls behind the same green eyes.

Julian emerged from the master bedroom at six forty-five, looking like he had slept perfectly. 

His suit was charcoal gray, a crisp white shirt, and silver cufflinks. Not a hair out of place. He surveyed me coolly, taking in every detail.

"Nervous?"

"Should I be?"

"Absolutely." He adjusted his cufflinks, his movements precise and controlled. 

"My mother is a shark. She will smell blood in the water."

The doorbell rang at exactly seven AM.

My heart stopped. Julian walked to the door, spine straight, and opened it.

Eleanor Cross entered like she owned the place. Maybe she thought she did. She was tall, nearly as tall as Julian in her heels. 

Her black hair with streaks of gray pulled back in an elegant twist. Diamonds at her throat, more diamonds on her fingers. She wore a pale blue suit that matched her black eyes. Cold elegance radiated from her like frost.

She embraced Julian, kissing both his cheeks. European style, practiced and perfect. Then she turned to me. Her smile did not reach her eyes.

"Vivian. How lovely to finally meet you properly."

My throat closed. I forced a smile. "Mrs. Cross. Thank you for coming."

"Please, call me Eleanor." She glided past me into the penthouse, eyes scanning everything. Judging. 

"What a beautiful morning."

Breakfast was already set up. Catered, clearly. 

White tablecloths, silver serving dishes, fresh flowers in crystal vases. More food than three people could possibly eat. 

Pastries, fruit, eggs, bacon, smoked salmon. Coffee in a French press. Orange juice in cut crystal glasses.

We all sat. Eleanor at the head of the table, Julian and I on either side. Like a twisted family portrait.

"So, Vivian." Eleanor spread a napkin across her lap. "Tell me about yourself. I feel we hardly know each other despite the engagement."

The questions began. Casual on the surface, calculated underneath.

"Where did you go to university, dear?"

I remembered what my stepmother told me. "Ashford College. Business administration."

"Lovely. And your father's company, imports, is it not? What exactly does he import?"

My mind scrambled. "Textiles. Primarily from Asia."

"How interesting." She sipped her coffee. "I heard you spent a summer in Paris. Which arrondissement did you stay in?"

I had no idea. Vivian had been to Paris. I had not. The pause stretched too long.

"The sixth," Julian interjected smoothly. "Near the Luxembourg Gardens, if I remember correctly."

Eleanor's eyes flicked to him, then back to me. "Is that right?"

"Yes." I forced the word out. "It was beautiful."

"I am sure it was." Her smile remained fixed.

The questions continued. Each one a trap, a test. 

I stumbled through answers, using the sparse information my stepmother had given me. Julian watched from across the table, occasionally redirecting when Eleanor got too close to something I could not answer.

His hand found mine under the table. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, tight enough. Warning or support, I could not tell.

Eleanor set down her fork. "You seem different from the gala last year. More reserved."

My pulse spiked. "The wedding stress, I suppose."

"Mmm." She studied me like I was a specimen under glass. "Julian, you remember the Vanderbilt gala? Where you and Vivian first met?"

Julian did not miss a beat. "Of course. You were wearing green."

Eleanor looked at me. "Were you, dear?"

I had no idea what Vivian wore to any gala. The pause stretched. My mind went blank.

Julian squeezed my wrist, almost painfully. "Emerald green. It matched her eyes."

"How romantic." Eleanor's gaze lingered, suspicious. The air felt thin.

She stood suddenly. "Well, I should go. But first, I nearly forgot." She opened her designer purse and pulled out a small velvet box. "Your grandmother's ring. Family tradition. The bride wears it."

She handed it to me. I opened the box with shaking fingers. Inside sat a massive emerald ring, surrounded by diamonds. Old, beautiful, worth more than I would make in my lifetime.

"Try it on."

My hands trembled. I pulled the ring from the box and slid it onto my finger. It was loose. Too large. It spun around my knuckle.

Eleanor's eyes narrowed. "Strange. I had it sized based on the measurements Vivian provided last month. She must have lost weight."

Silence fell like a blade. I could not breathe. I needed to think of an excuse… and fast.

Julian stood smoothly. "Wedding diet. You know how women are, Mother."

Eleanor gathered her purse. Her expression was ice, hard and unforgiving. 

"Yes. Of course." She walked to the door, Julian following. At the threshold, she turned back. "Oh, Vivian, I nearly forgot. Your sister called me yesterday. Looking for you."

My blood froze. Everything stopped. "My sister?"

"Yes. Vivian Lawson." Eleanor's smile was poison, sweet and deadly. "She seemed very confused about why I was calling to confirm breakfast with her. Said she has been in the Maldives all week. With her new boyfriend, I believe." She paused. "Is that not odd?"

I could not speak. The world tilted sideways.

"I must have misunderstood." Eleanor's voice was silk over steel. "These things happen. Good day."

The door closed behind her.

The silence that followed was deafening. I stood frozen, the emerald ring loose on my finger, my entire body numb. 

My mind raced. Vivian called Eleanor. Vivian was supposed to be silent, hidden, paid to disappear. But she reached out. Why? What did she say? Did she tell Eleanor everything?

The room felt smaller suddenly. The walls closing in. I tried to take a breath but my chest was too tight. This was it. The moment everything collapsed. Eleanor knew. She had to know.

Julian turned to me slowly. Fury blazed in his eyes. But underneath it, something else. Something that looked almost like triumph.

"Congratulations, wife. You just made this interesting."