Chapter 9

“The chairman is too tired to join you all for dinner today. He has retired early,” the butler announces before leaving as swiftly as he came.

The table is arranged in a romantic style, candlelight glowing across polished silver and crystal glasses.

The dishes look exquisite, but Vienna feels only a hollow annoyance.

"What a waste," she thinks.

"If only I could share a moment like this with someone I actually loveand who loves me back. Instead, I’m stuck here with a scum like Alan, in a fake relationship, and a so-called best friend who betrayed me with my enemy."

As soon as the last dishes are set down, Benita dismisses the maids. Silence thickens, leaving only the four of them at the table.

Vienna uncovers a plate and begins serving herself, only to feel Benita’s hand touch hers.

“Vienna, how have you been?” Benita asks softly, her tone carrying a strange gentleness.

Vienna jerks her hand back. Since when has she ever used that voice with me? “I don’t think we’re on good terms for you to ask me that,” she replies coolly, returning to her food.

Benita reaches for her hand again, but Vienna shakes her off.

“I’m really sorry about what happened,” Benita insists, her voice cracking as though on the verge of tears. “I couldn’t explain before you moved out. I tried looking for you, but you disappeared. There was no trace of you anywhere.”

Vienna gives her a disdainful look. So this is her performance—like those storybook antagonists, minus the powerful CEO to match. “I heard you bought our house right after we left,” she says flatly.

Benita’s eyes widen. “What? Oh—I bought it for us. I mean, because of us,” she stammers.

“Really? That must be why you couldn’t find us for nearly three years,” Vienna says, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You were too busy taking care of the house, waiting for our grand return.”

Alan lets out a low sound, but when Vienna glances at him, he’s focused on his food, ignoring them entirely.

Vienna turns her gaze left and catches Karen staring openly at her. She looks away quickly and begins to eat.

“So, you two are back together?” Karen asks suddenly, his tone dripping with disbelief. His eyes flick from Alan to Vienna.

“Dinner is for eating, not chatting,” Alan replies, unmoved.

Vienna quietly pours water for him and sets it within his reach.

The rest of the meal passes in silence. When the maids return to clear the dishes, Alan rises. Vienna stands with him, ready to leave, but Karen stops him, asking to discuss something privately. Vienna finds herself left in the living room with Benita.

“Vienna, can we talk?” Benita asks again.

Vienna’s patience snaps. “What else could you possibly have to say?”

“Everything that happened wasn’t my fault. Alan asked me to pretend to be in a relationship with him, just to break off his engagement with you.” She wipes at an invisible tear. “I wanted to refuse, but I couldn’t go against him. I swear, I didn’t know about what happened to your dad.”

“My dad?” Vienna retorts, eyes narrowing. “Or have you forgotten you used to call him Dad too? But now, I suppose he’s only mine.”

“No, that’s not what I meant—you’re misunderstanding,” Benita insists.

Vienna laughs bitterly. “What I don’t understand is this—why explain now? Three years ago, when the whole world knew my father had been sentenced to six years, when we were still in the city hospital for a week, you didn’t bother to show up. And now suddenly you care?”

“I know I’m wrong,” Benita pleads. Tears finally slide down her cheeks. “But I meant well for you. You’re my best friend. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Ex–best friend,” Vienna corrects sharply. She crosses her arms. “You’re not explaining because you’re sorry. You’re explaining because you see me back here—because Alan will soon take everything from Karen, and you want to use me again. Dream on.”

She spits the words in Benita’s face and strides away.

Not even when I’m only here for three months, she thinks as she climbs the stairs.

Meanwhile, in the courtyard, Karen pulls out a cigarette and offers one to Alan. They smoke together in silence until Karen speaks.

“So, you really want to marry her?”

Alan exhales smoke without answering.

They had been close friends just months ago, before Alan’s accident and the sudden announcement of his engagement to Benita. Alan had never cared much for their so-called relationship—it was temporary. But Karen’s ambition to take his place had left a bitter taste.

“It’s not what it seems, right?” Karen presses again, searching Alan’s face. When Alan doesn’t refute, Karen smirks, pleased. “How long do you plan to keep up this pretense?”

“Not for long,” Alan says evenly.

Karen relaxes, certain now. The Alan he knows would never marry—least of all Vienna, not after everything.

“But I must admit,” Karen adds with a sly smile, “you’re capable. To make her agree after discarding her three years ago. Impressive.”

“That’s the power of money,” Alan replies coolly, crushing his cigarette underfoot. “I’ll head back. See you tomorrow.”

He turns to leave, but Karen calls out quickly, “Are you sure you don’t like her? Not even a little?”

Alan lets out an annoyed sigh.

“You must have tried hard to get her to agree,” Karen persists.

“Goodnight,” Alan mutters, walking off.

As he moves slowly through the halls, Alan turns Karen’s words over in his mind. He doesn’t have an answer. He knows he wanted revenge three years ago, to make Vienna suffer as she had made him suffer. But now? Now he isn’t sure. He carries guilt too—for his part in what happened. And strangely, he wants to end her suffering, not prolong it.

Pausing at a corner, he struggles to orient himself. He stands still, calculating the path.

Footsteps approach.

Vienna appears, holding a glass of water. She notices him stuck in place and sighs before walking over. “This way. Let’s go.”

She slips her hand into his, guiding him. He follows silently, catching the faint apple scent clinging to her skin.

The fourth time, he notes silently. Four times now, they’ve been this close. She doesn’t remember the third—when he carried her to bed.

That night, when Kellie offered to wake Vienna, Alan refused. Instead, he had gone to her himself. She’d murmured in her sleep as he reached for the chair, his hand brushing against her chest by accident. Realization had jolted him, and he pulled back at once, heart pounding. After a pause, he leaned closer, tapped her arm gently, but she didn’t stir.

So he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She hadn’t opened her eyes once. He laid her down carefully, then left the room before she could wake.

Now, as Vienna leads him back toward their room, Alan finds himself unsettled. He’s no longer sure if he’s lying to everyone else—or to himself.