Chapter 14

Vivienne’s POV

When the door opened, I reacted on instinct. My eyes shut immediately as I forced my breathing into a slow, steady rhythm, pretending to be asleep.

My heart refused to cooperate. It pounded violently against my ribs, each beat loud enough to betray me. My body felt cold, stiff, and painfully aware of every sound in the room.

If I did not see him, then nothing could happen. If I remained still, then I would be safe.

That was what I told myself.

Footsteps approached the bed, slow and deliberate. Each step seemed louder than the thunder crashing outside, heavier than the storm itself. My fingers curled slightly beneath the blanket, but I forced them still.

Then the blanket was lifted.

Cold air brushed against my skin and fear spread through me like ice. My muscles locked in place as I tightened my legs, maintaining the illusion of sleep while panic surged inside my chest.

A voice came from beside me, low and controlled, close enough that I could feel his breath near my ear.

“Open your eyes.”

The calmness in his tone carried something dangerous.

My mind went blank.

I opened my eyes immediately.

“Please don’t hurt me,” I whispered, my voice trembling uncontrollably.

The words barely left my lips before I saw his face clearly.

Alexander.

Shock replaced fear in an instant, followed quickly by embarrassment. The tension in my body loosened, but not completely. I realized how ridiculous I must have looked, terrified in my own home, hiding from the very man who had once been my only source of safety.

I turned my head slightly, avoiding his gaze.

“How did you get in?”

“The thunder was loud,” he said calmly. “I thought you might not be able to sleep.”

His tone was steady, almost indifferent, as if concern came naturally to him when it was convenient.

I frowned. I did not want to admit weakness, especially not to him.

“I was sleeping fine,” I replied. “I don’t need anyone.”

His eyes lingered on me, searching, unconvinced.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

There was a pause before he asked quietly, “Should I leave?”

He shifted slightly as if preparing to stand.

For a brief moment, panic rose inside me, sharp and instinctive, but I swallowed it immediately. I turned away from him and tightened my grip on the blanket.

“If you want to leave, then go.”

I heard his footsteps retreat. The door opened, then closed.

The room fell silent.

The absence was immediate and suffocating.

My chest tightened and a dull ache spread through me. Tears gathered in my eyes before I could stop them. I felt foolish for reacting this way, for wanting him to stay after everything that had happened.

Why come at all if leaving was so easy for him?

Why offer warmth only to take it away again?

“Then why are you crying?”

His voice sounded beside me again.

I turned quickly, startled, and saw him still there.

He had not left.

Embarrassment burned through me as I wiped at my eyes.

He sat down beside me without asking, his movements calm, unhurried. His hand rested lightly on my shoulder, a simple gesture that felt heavier than anything else.

“Go to sleep,” he said quietly. “I’ll stay until you do.”

I made a soft sound in response, unable to find the right words.

His gentleness confused me more than his cruelty ever had. He could be distant and cold one moment, then unexpectedly careful the next, and that inconsistency made it impossible for me to protect myself.

Eventually, exhaustion claimed me. My eyes closed and, for the first time that night, sleep came without fear.

The Next Morning

When I woke up, he was gone.

The room was quiet, unchanged, as if he had never been there at all.

I moved through my routine without thinking. Breakfast tasted like nothing. Work filled the empty spaces in my mind.

By afternoon, I was back at the studio.

The shoot continued smoothly. Isabella stood under the lights with effortless grace, her beauty enhanced by every angle and shadow. Even I had to admit she looked flawless.

Professional. Untouchable.

I focused on the details, on the work, on anything that did not involve emotion. Ariana showed me the captured shots and I gave precise instructions, adjusting angles, lighting, and expressions until everything aligned with the campaign vision.

Work was the only place where I still had control.

Alexander’s POV

I arrived at the studio to observe the shoot.

The space was crowded with equipment, staff, and movement. My attention landed on Isabella first and I walked toward her without hesitation.

Everything seemed normal.

Until it wasn’t.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a rack shift.

Then it tipped.

It was falling straight toward her.

There was no time to think.

I moved instantly and pulled Isabella into my arms.

Vivienne’s POV

Someone shouted his name.

Everything happened too fast.

A force struck me from the side and I lost my balance completely. My body hit the ground hard as the crash of metal echoed through the studio. Pain shot through my ankle instantly, sharp and blinding.

For a moment, I could not move.

I looked up.

Alexander held Isabella tightly, his arms wrapped around her as he asked if she was hurt. She clung to him, shaken, fragile.

Voices filled the room.

Praise. Relief. Admiration.

No one looked at me.

The pain in my ankle was real, but it felt distant compared to the hollow ache spreading through my chest.

He had pushed me aside without hesitation.

In that moment, I understood something clearly.

I was not even part of the choice.

Ariana rushed toward me, her voice filled with concern as she helped me sit up. I tried to move, but the pain worsened sharply. Then something else followed.

A dull, frightening ache deep in my abdomen.

My breath caught. Panic surged instantly.

I grabbed her hand tightly.

“Take me to the hospital. Now.”

Only then did Alexander notice me.

His expression changed immediately. He crossed the distance between us in seconds and lifted me into his arms.

“What happened?” he demanded. “What’s wrong?”

I clung to him, my fingers tightening against his sleeve.

“Hurry,” I whispered, my voice breaking.

Fear consumed everything else.

The baby.

Nothing else mattered.

He carried me outside and ordered James to drive immediately. The car sped forward as the world blurred past the windows.

I leaned weakly against him, my vision fading.

“Vivienne, stay awake,” he said, his voice tense, urgent.

I tried to respond, but the pain was overwhelming.

By the time we reached the hospital, darkness had already begun to close in.

Doctors rushed me into the emergency room. Their voices overlapped, calm but urgent, as they prepared to examine me.

I reached out weakly and grabbed one of them.

“Please… save my baby.”

The doctor nodded. “We will do everything we can.”

I swallowed with difficulty, forcing out the last thing that mattered.

“The man outside… he’s my ex-husband.”

The words felt heavy, final.

“Don’t tell him… about the pregnancy.”

The doctor hesitated for a brief second, then nodded in understanding.

“I won’t.”

Relief flickered faintly through me before everything went dark.