The Clause

Vivienne hadn’t slept.

The sun crept over the skyline, pale and indifferent, as she sat at her desk surrounded by open files. Contracts. Trust documents. Amendments dated years apart. Margaux’s fingerprints were everywhere—carefully placed, subtly controlling.

And then there it was.

A clause buried so deep it might as well have been invisible.

Vivienne leaned closer to the screen, her pulse quickening.

„Upon the beneficiary’s thirtieth birthday, full voting authority and executive control of Laurent International shall revert to Vivienne Laurent, provided she has not formally relinquished said rights.“

Her breath caught.

Thirty.

She was twenty-nine.

Margaux had never mentioned it.

Not once.

Vivienne scrolled further, reading the fine print again and again, afraid hope was playing tricks on her.

There was no ambiguity.

No loophole.

Her father had protected her.

Margaux had simply delayed the truth.

Vivienne sat back, trembling—not with fear, but with something sharper.

Power.

⸻

Later That Morning, Daniel was halfway through a conference call when his phone buzzed.

Vivienne: I found something.

His attention snapped instantly.

Daniel: Good or bad?

A pause.

Vivienne: Life-changing.

He excused himself and stepped out into the hallway, heart pounding.

Daniel: Tell me.

Vivienne: Not over the phone. Tonight. My place.

His breath stuttered.

Daniel: Is that safe?

Vivienne: Nothing about this is.

⸻

Margaux stood before the board, perfectly composed as always.

“They’re pushing back,” one executive said. “Daniel Carter’s firm is requesting revised terms.”

Margaux smiled thinly. “Let them.”

Her assistant leaned close. “Security flagged unusual document access last night.”

Margaux’s fingers tightened around her pen.

“By whom?”

“Vivienne.”

The room seemed to darken.

Margaux dismissed the board with a gesture.

So.

The girl had started reading.

Margaux walked to the window, gaze hard.

“Activate phase two,” she said calmly.

⸻

Vivienne’s penthouse felt different that night.

Lighter.

As if the walls themselves sensed change.

Daniel arrived quietly, his expression tense. When Vivienne opened the door, their eyes locked—and for a moment, the years dissolved.

”You’re shaking,” he said softly.

“So are you,” she replied.

They moved inside, the city glowing beyond the glass.

Vivienne handed him the tablet.

“Read this.”

Daniel read in silence, his expression shifting from confusion to shock to awe.

“Vivienne,” he whispered. “This changes everything.”

“She never wanted me to know,” Vivienne said. “She’s been running my life because she was afraid.”

Daniel looked at her. “Of you.”

Vivienne nodded.

“It looks like it.” Vivienne turned around. “I turn thirty in six months.”

Daniel exhaled slowly. “She won’t let that happen quietly.”

“I know,” Vivienne said. “That’s why I need help.”

”With what?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“With surviving her.”

⸻

They stood close, the city humming beneath them.

“You should’ve told me,” Daniel said softly. “Years ago.”

“I wasn’t brave then,” Vivienne replied. “I am now. I learned to be patient. I had to endure to much by her hand in that gilded cage of mine. My life. What she made of it.”

Their hands brushed.

Neither pulled away.

Daniel’s voice dropped. “Whatever happens, I’m not leaving again.”

Vivienne’s throat tightened.

“Promise?”

“I swear.”

Outside, thunder rolled distantly.

And somewhere below, Margaux Laurent began preparing for war.