CHAPTER 5

Vivienne POV

The cool night air felt amazing against my skin the second I walked out of the Montemayor mansion. Behind me, the muffled sound of the party was still going, but I didn't care. I walked down the sweeping stone steps, my heels clicking loudly in the quiet driveway.

Two blocks away, just like Arthur had said, a sleek, black luxury sedan was idling under the shade of a large acacia tree. The headlights were dimmed, but the car looked like a shadow waiting to swallow the night. As soon as I approached, the driver’s door opened. A man in a sharp black suit and an earpiece stepped out, instantly bowing his head.

"Miss Valderama," he said, opening the passenger door for me. "Mr. Pendelton sends his regards. We are ready whenever you are."

Hearing that name again made my chest tighten. Miss Valderama. It still felt surreal, like a jacket that was a few sizes too big, but I climbed into the back seat anyway. The door closed with a solid, heavy thud, cutting off the outside world completely. The interior smelled of expensive leather and subtle, clean cologne.

On the leather seat next to me lay a sleek, black velvet box and a pristine white envelope. I picked up the envelope first. Inside was a heavy, matte-black metallic card with the Valderama crest stamped in gold.

No spending limit. No restrictions.

I held it between my fingers. For the past two years, Ethan had given me a strict monthly allowance. He tracked every single receipt, making me feel guilty if I spent a little extra on groceries or a pair of shoes that weren't on sale. He always said we needed to save because his family was watching our budget. It was sick. He was just keeping me dependent, ensuring I never had enough money to leave or independent financial records to show anyone.

I slid the card into my purse and opened the velvet box. Inside was a brand new, latest-model smartphone, already activated and completely encrypted.

The screen lit up instantly, displaying a single incoming text message.

Arthur: "The Montemayor Group’s legal team has just received the formal notice that Valderama Shipping has paused all contract renewals. Ethan Montemayor is currently trying to call our logistics director. He has been redirected to voicemail."

A small, genuine laugh escaped my lips. I could only imagine the look on Ethan's face right now. He was probably sweating through his tailored suit, trying to figure out why the biggest deal of his career was suddenly slipping through his fingers.

"Take me to the downtown penthouse, please," I told the driver, looking out the tinted window as the car smoothly pulled out into the main street.

"Right away, Miss Valderama."

As the city lights blurred past, everything that happened in the garden kept replaying in my head. Ethan’s voice, so cold and transactional. Once the inheritance is legally mine, I'll discard her. The worst part wasn't even the cheating; it was the sheer calculation of it all. He had looked into my eyes every morning, kissed my forehead, and told me he loved me, all while building a cage around me. They wanted to make me look crazy. They wanted to take away my voice.

Well, they gave the puppet the wrong script.

The drive took about twenty minutes. The car pulled into the underground garage of a high-rise residential building that only the top one percent could afford. The elevator required a biometric scan, and when the doors opened directly into the penthouse, I was greeted by a massive, open-concept living space overlooking the shimmering city skyline.

Arthur Pendelton was waiting by the floor-to-ceiling windows, holding a tablet. He looked older, with silver hair and a sharp, calculating gaze, but the moment he saw me, his expression softened into something resembling respect.

"Welcome to your temporary residence, Miss Valderama," Arthur said, bowing slightly. "Your father wanted to ensure you had total privacy. Everything you need has already been delivered."

"Thank you, Arthur," I said, setting my purse on the marble kitchen island. "What's the status on the Montemayor front?"

Arthur tapped the tablet screen. "Ethan Montemayor has called our offices seven times in the last twenty minutes. His father is currently frantic, trying to reach your father's personal assistant. They are panicking. If the shipping contract isn't signed by Friday, the European investors will pull out of the merger entirely. The Montemayor Group stands to lose roughly forty percent of its market value overnight."

"Good," I said, walking over to the window, looking down at the tiny cars below. "Let them sweat until tomorrow morning. I want Ethan to feel the ground shaking beneath him."

"And your... living situation with him?" Arthur asked carefully. "Legally, since the marriage was never registered, you have no obligation to return. However, if you want to retrieve any personal belongings—"

"I don't want anything from that house," I interrupted, turning to face him. "Everything in that place was bought with his money or chosen to make me look small. The only thing I want from that house is the satisfaction of watching them realize they lost."

"Understood," Arthur said, handing me a thin silver laptop from the counter. "Tomorrow morning at ten, the Montemayor Group is holding an emergency meeting with their top stakeholders to address the contract crisis. As the primary representative of Valderama Shipping, you have the right to attend."

I took the laptop, feeling the cool metal against my palms.

"I'll be there," I said.

Arthur bowed one last time, leaving the tablet on the counter before walking out of the penthouse, the heavy front door locking automatically behind him.

I stood alone in the massive, quiet apartment. Walking into the master bedroom, I saw rows of designer clothes, shoes, and jewelry already arranged in the walk-in closet—all selected in my exact size, all in bold colors, sharp cuts, and commanding styles. No more high-necked navy blue dresses meant to make me invisible.

My phone vibrated on the nightstand. I walked over and picked it up.

It was Ethan.

I answered it, placing it casually against my ear without saying a word.

"Vivienne! Where the hell are you?" Ethan’s voice exploded through the speaker, completely stripped of his usual calm, arrogant composure. He sounded out of breath, his tone laced with absolute fury and panic. "You walked out of the party, and you're not at the house. The maid said your car isn't in the garage. Do you have any idea what's happening right now? The company is facing a massive crisis, and I don't have time to play hide-and-seek with you. Get back here right now."

I let the silence stretch for a long moment, listening to his ragged breathing on the other end.

"I'm busy, Ethan," I said, my voice completely deadpan.

"Busy? With what?" he barked. "Listen to me, Vivienne. You are my wife, and you will—"

"I'll see you at the board meeting tomorrow morning, Mr. Montemayors," I said smoothly, and hung up the phone.