Chapter 4: Wishing You a Love That Never Ends

Vivian had already decided to pretend she hadn't seen them.

She was two steps from a clean escape when Rebecca's voice floated after her, soft and perfectly pitched.

"Sister?"

The word landed like a fishhook.

Vivian kept walking.

"Vivian!" Rebecca stepped smoothly into her path, eyes wide with manufactured delight, one hand pressed to her chest as though her heart couldn't quite contain the joy. "Oh my goodness, it is you! Why didn't you tell anyone you were coming back? I would have"

"Moved?" Vivian suggested pleasantly, and stopped walking.

She uncrossed her arms, tilted her head, and let a slow smile spread across her face the kind that was bright enough to be blinding and sharp enough to draw blood.

That smile.

Rebecca's delicate, camera-ready features couldn't have produced it in a thousand years of practice. It was the kind of beauty that didn't ask for permission vivid and unguarded and completely, devastatingly real.

"Rebecca." Vivian's voice was silky smooth. "We both know you didn't stop me to catch up. So let's skip the script, shall we? Because if you want me to play the bitter ex-sister for your audience" she glanced pointedly at the cluster of onlookers pretending not to stare "you really should've warned me. I'd have prepared something more dramatic."

"Vivian." Sebastian stepped forward, jaw tight, positioning himself half in front of Rebecca like she needed protecting. His eyes were cold and certain. "Why do you always have to speak to her like that? She's just glad to see you. Is being civil really that hard for you?"

He shook his head, mouth curling at one corner with something that looked uncomfortably like pity.

"Or is this about us?" He pulled Rebecca gently behind him, his posture settling into something protective and proprietary. "Because let's be honest about what actually happened five years ago. You were the one who destroyed what we had. You cheated. You lied. If anyone has the right to be angry here, it's not you." His voice dropped, sharper now. "Don't take your guilt out on Becca."

Sebastian Stonewell. Mayor's son. Heir to one of New York's oldest political dynasties. Handsome, polished, bred for podiums and press conferences.

And an absolute, irredeemable coward hiding behind a beautiful face.

What a waste, Vivian thought, not for the first time.

Rebecca appeared from behind his shoulder on cue, lower lip caught between her teeth in perfectly executed vulnerability. Her eyes doe-soft and glistening found Vivian's with an expression of pained sincerity.

"Vivian, I know things between us have been... complicated." Her voice trembled just enough. "But Sebastian and I, what we have is real. We love each other. I just..." She exhaled softly. "I hope one day you can find it in your heart to be happy for us."

The performance was flawless.

Vivian stood there for one quiet moment, looking at the two of them the wounded golden boy and the perfect porcelain girl and felt absolutely nothing except a distant, almost academic contempt.

She had wasted years loving both of them.

She wouldn't waste another second.

"You want my blessing?" Vivian's smile widened, warm as sunlight, sweet as poison. "Of course. From the bottom of my heart." She pressed a hand to her chest in a perfect mirror of Rebecca's earlier gesture. "A match made in heaven. Two people who truly deserve each other." A beat, delicate as a knife's edge. "May you never, ever part."

The words dropped into the air like stones into still water.

Sebastian's face darkened immediately. "Vivian"

"Mr. Stonewell." She tilted her head, unbothered. "Indoor voice, please. My hearing is perfectly fine, thank you."

She turned to go.

She had taken exactly two steps when she stopped.

Slowly, she turned back.

Her eyes moved to Rebecca's face and whatever Rebecca saw there made the color begin to drain from her perfectly contoured cheeks.

Vivian reached into her bag and held up her phone, screen catching the light.

"Oh one more thing." Her tone was almost apologetic. Almost. "You said you want my blessing. Which is so sweet. So in the spirit of generosity" her thumb hovered over the screen "I still have the video from my eighteenth birthday party. You remember. The one where you were both so... enthusiastic." She smiled. "You're the Golden Star Award winner now, Rebecca. America's sweetheart. I'm sure your fans would love to see your range."

Rebecca went white as paper.

Not the delicate, photogenic kind of pale. The kind that comes with genuine terror.

"I'll take that as a no, on the public blessing," Vivian said pleasantly. "Have a wonderful evening, you two."

She was already rounding the corner when she heard Sebastian's voice behind her, sharp and low, saying something to Rebecca before his footsteps came after her.

She didn't slow down.

What she hadn't told either of them, what she had never told anyone except Nathan, was exactly what she had found on her eighteenth birthday.

She had planned a surprise. Shown up early, heart full, arms full of balloons, ready to celebrate with the boy she had loved since she was fifteen.

She had heard them before she opened the door.

She had stood in the hallway, completely still, while the world rearranged itself into a shape she didn't recognize. And when she finally understood what she was hearing. Sebastian's voice, low and certain, telling Rebecca that Vivian had only ever been a placeholder she had done the only rational thing available to her.

She had hit record.

She had kept that recording for five years. Through everything that came after, the drugged drink, the hotel room she hadn't chosen, the hospital visit that the cameras had been waiting for, the accusations, her mother's face as she chose Rebecca's version of events without blinking.

Through all of it, she had kept that file.

Insurance, she'd told herself then.

Justice, she told herself now.

Behind her, back in the lobby, Rebecca watched Sebastian disappear after Vivian with quick, purposeful strides.

Her soft expression dissolved the moment his back was turned.

Her fingers curled at her sides until the knuckles went white.

Vivian.

Five years. Five years of carefully constructed peace, and here she was, back in New York, more breathtaking than ever. If the girl Rebecca remembered had been a bud just beginning to open, this woman was a rose in full and devastating bloom, the kind that turned heads in rooms full of beautiful people.

And she had that recording.

Rebecca's mind moved quickly, coldly, running calculations.

She had worked too hard. Sacrificed too much. Dismantled Vivian's life piece by piece with surgical patience, and built her own on the cleared ground. The Rong family name. The Stonewell connection. The award. The image.

She was not going to let Vivian Rong walk back into New York and take any of it apart.

She couldn't give her the chance.

Not this time.