Lahat ng Kabanata ng Two worlds that collide: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 10

"Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you..."The voice was deep, gravelly, and slightly off-key, but to Vivienne Blackwood, it was the most beautiful sound in the world. It was a anchor in the drifting fog of sleep, pulling her back to the surface of consciousness. She stirred against the cool, high-thread-count silk of her pillow, a sleepy smile spreading across her face before her eyelids even fluttered open."Happy birthday, my angel," Arthur Blackwood whispered.Vivienne blinked, her vision clearing to find her father standing by her bedside. The room was still mostly draped in the soft, blue shadows of early morning, but a single flickering flame illuminated his face. He was holding a small, elegant white cake on a silver platter—a single gold candle dancing in the center."Dad?" she croaked, her voice thick with sleep. She sat up, pushing a curtain of dark hair behind her ear. "You’re home. I thought the London board meeting ran through the weekend."Arthur sat on the edg

The valet stand at L’Ermitage was accustomed to high-end machinery. Usually, a line of sleek silver Mercedes and the occasional matte-black Bentley formed a muted parade of wealth. But as the clock struck one, a sound tore through the refined atmosphere of the boulevard—a mechanical, predatory shriek that bounced off the glass storefronts like a physical blow.Vivienne saw the crowd on the terrace before they saw her. She shifted the Lamborghini into a lower gear, the needle on the tachometer jumping as she gave the engine a deliberate, aggressive rev. The V12 howled, a guttural, earth-shaking roar that silenced the clinking of champagne flutes and the polite murmur of gossip.Every head turned. It was an instinctive reaction, the way prey turns toward a predator.On the terrace, Chloe Montgomery stood up so abruptly her chair scraped harshly against the stone. Her face was a mask of pale disbelief, her eyes narrowed as she watched the orange blur approach. She was likely praying to a

​The drive home was a blur of orange paint and white-knuckled frustration. The Lamborghini’s engine, which had sounded like a victory cry only hours ago, now felt like an annoying roar in Vivienne’s ears. Every time she shifted gears, she saw the flick of that man’s wrist as he winked. Every time she looked in the rearview mirror, she expected to see a white Porsche looming behind her, only to find the road empty.​By the time she reached the Blackwood estate, the sun was beginning to bruise the sky with deep purples and oranges. She didn't stop to look at the gate. She didn't look for the mysterious letter the bikers had dropped. She handed the keys to a wide-eyed valet and marched straight into the house, her heels echoing like gunfire against the marble.​"Is my father home?" she asked a passing maid without slowing down.​"No, Miss Vivienne. He called to say he’d be late. Business in the city."​"Fine."​She didn't want to talk to Arthur. She didn't want to explain why her birthda

​The next morning arrived with a crisp, clinical perfection. Vivienne woke up before her alarm, the soft hum of the mansion’s climate control the only sound in the room. She stayed under the covers for a long time, staring at the ornate molding on the ceiling. Today was the day she was supposed to feel like the luckiest woman in the city. She was Vivienne Blackwood, and she was going on the most talked-about date of the season with the most eligible man in the state.​But as she swung her legs out of bed, her feet hitting the plush rug, the excitement felt like a costume she hadn't quite put on yet.​She spent the afternoon in a state of high-intensity preparation. A team of stylists, usually reserved for gala events, arrived at three. There was a manicurist, a hair specialist, and a makeup artist who treated Vivienne’s face like a priceless canvas.​"You want the 'Power-Dating' look, Miss Blackwood?" the makeup artist asked, holding up a palette of deep plums and shimmering golds.​"

​The world at 5:30 AM was a watercolor of bruised purples and misty greys. When Vivienne’s alarm chirped, her first instinct was to bury her head under the silk pillows and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist. Her eyes felt heavy, a reminder of the late-night digital stalking she’d attempted. But then she remembered the 6:00 AM commitment.​She dragged herself out of bed, splashing cold water on her face until the fog in her brain cleared. She pulled on a high-performance, slate-grey leggings set and a matching windbreaker, tying her hair into a ponytail so tight it acted like a natural facelift.​By the time Julian’s silver SUV pulled up to the Blackwood gates, Vivienne was waiting.​Julian stepped out, looking annoyingly refreshed in black running shorts and a compression shirt that highlighted his athletic build. He didn't look like a politician today; he looked like a man who actually enjoyed the burn of his lungs.​"You actually showed up," Julian teased, leaning against t