chapter 19

Vivienne’s POV (Cont.)

The box slipped from my hands before my mind could even process what I was seeing.

It hit the floor with a dull thud.

The lid cracked open and everything inside spilled out.

Something wet and heavy landed first.

It slapped against the tiles and spread slightly.

I stared at it.

My mind refused to understand.

Red.

White.

Torn.

It looked like flesh, cut into pieces and crushed together.

Blood coated it. Thick. Sticky. It slowly spread outward, forming a dark, uneven pool across the floor.

Then the smell hit.

Rotten. Metallic. Sour.

It rushed into my nose, down my throat, before I could react.

My stomach twisted violently.

My vision blurred.

A gag tore out of me.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t think.

My entire body locked in place as I stared at the mess on the floor.

Behind me, Maggie gasped.

She rushed forward immediately, her voice trembling as she tried to stay calm.

“Miss Vivienne, don’t be afraid I’ll clean it ”

“No.”

My voice came out hoarse.

I raised a shaking hand, covering my nose tightly.

“Don’t touch it… call the police.”

She froze for a second, then nodded quickly.

As she turned to grab her phone, she hesitated.

“Should I inform Mr. Ashford?”

Alexander.

His name made my heart pause.

He was away.

On business.

Busy.

Probably… with Isabella.

The thought cut through me, but it also made the decision easy.

I shook my head.

“No need.”

Maggie didn’t question it. She made the call immediately.

The police arrived quickly.

Two officers and a forensic technician.

Gloves. Cameras. Evidence bags.

They worked methodically, stepping carefully around the scene.

Photographs from every angle.

Samples collected.

Questions asked.

I answered everything calmly.

About the delivery.

About opening the box.

My voice sounded steady.

But inside, I still felt sick.

The smell clung to me. Like it had seeped into my lungs.

After they left, Maggie cleaned the living room again and again.

Disinfectant. Water. Air freshener.

Windows wide open.

Still

the faint, rotten smell lingered.

Like it had sunk into the walls.

The investigation moved fast.

The act was crude. Poorly planned.

Easy to trace.

Security cameras. Delivery logs. Entry records.

Everything led to one person.

An underage boy.

He was caught quickly.

At first, he denied it.

Then he broke.

He confessed everything.

A fan of Isabella.

He said he couldn’t stand seeing her bullied online.

He said I deserved to be punished.

He only wanted to scare me.

When Maggie told me everything, I didn’t feel angry.

Just… tired.

“Where did he get my address?” I asked quietly.

She hesitated.

“His grandfather works as a cleaner in this neighborhood.”

My body went cold.

That meant access.

Observation.

Information.

I immediately told her, “Contact security. His grandfather needs to be reassigned. Immediately.”

She nodded and handled it.

When the house finally fell silent again, I picked up my phone.

Only then did I realize how bad things had become.

T*****r notifications: 99+

I opened it.

The first comment—

You ruined Isabella’s makeup. Incompetent.

The second—

You have good taste… please don’t harm Isabella again.

The third

Mockery.

Sarcasm.

Blame.

The fourth

Blind.

I kept scrolling.

Every comment pointed at me.

Every word was sharp.

My account was private.

Unverified.

Yet they found me.

Thousands of strangers flooding in.

Likes in the hundreds. Then thousands.

Growing… while I watched.

I traced the source.

Inside Isabella’s fan groups.

Screenshots.

Her team’s community manager.

Publicly:

Stay calm. Support Isabella.

Privately:

The makeup was perfect. Vivienne forced the changes.

Another fan asked

Can’t Isabella refuse? She’s with CEO Ashford, right?

The reply?

A single emoji.

Enough to confirm everything.

Then someone exposed me.

Adopted daughter of Chairman Ashford.

Nepotism.

They mocked my position. My age. My authority.

Then—

they found my T*****r.

That’s when the attack truly began.

Messages poured in.

Comments.

Direct messages.

Insults.

My family. My parents. My past.

Filthy words I refused to keep reading.

I deleted everything.

All of it.

I wouldn’t let that dirt stay.

So this was Olivia’s solution.

Protect Isabella.

Sacrifice me.

I saved every screenshot.

Every piece of evidence.

Then I logged out.

I called the studio head immediately.

“Find who leaked the photos. Check surveillance. I want a name.”

Then

I called Olivia.

She answered instantly.

Her voice sweet. Polite.

“Vivienne, how are you resting”

“Stop pretending.”

My voice cut through her words.

“Did you post those messages?”

A pause.

Then a soft laugh.

“You shouldn’t be angry,” she said lightly. “I had no choice.”

Her tone carried satisfaction.

“CEO Ashford asked me to handle the situation.”

My chest tightened.

“She’s the ambassador. I can’t damage her image. I can’t damage the brand.”

A small pause.

Then

“So you had to take the blame.”

Alexander.

His name wasn’t spoken again.

But it didn’t need to be.

The weight of it settled heavily in my chest.

And for the first time

something inside me began to quietly… break.