All Chapters of THE HEIR'S UNWANTED BRIDE: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Vivienne's POV"I know you're down here." My mother's voice came again, closer now, each word landing like a footstep on the stairs. "I can see the light under the door."I did not have time to put the photograph back.I had exactly the length of one breath to decide what my face was going to do when that door opened, and I used all of it.By the time the door swung in, the box was closed, my legs were folded under me like I'd been sitting there resting, and the photograph was pressed flat against my thigh, under my palm, out of sight."There you are." My mother stood in the doorway, coat still on, like she'd come from somewhere other than the bed Bea assumed she was in. "Sitting in the dark. In a room nobody uses.""Couldn't sleep.""So you came here. Not the kitchen. Not the sitting room. Here." She looked around at the boxes like they personally offended her."I used to hide down here as a kid. Old habit."She studied me the way she studied everything, looking for a crack, for the

DAMIEN'S POV"She's gone," Marcus said, closing my office door behind him. "Left the building four minutes ago.""Watched?""All the way to her car.""Good." I sat back down at my desk. My hands were steady. They had been steady the whole time Vivienne stood in this room and told me she could end everything I built. That was not luck. Steady hands are something I trained into myself years ago, the same way other men train a muscle."You don't look worried," Marcus said."I'm not.""She has a photo. A law firm name. A sealed record she can't open but can still point at.""I know what she has.""Then you know it's more than nothing.""It's less than she thinks." I opened the bottom drawer of my desk. I pulled out a folder I had not touched in three years. It was thick. Older than my company. Older than the marriage. Older than Celeste. "Sit down."He sat.I put the folder on the desk. I did not open it yet."Everything Vivienne has," I said, "I put there myself. Years ago. On purpose."

CELESTE'S POV "Who was that," I said, before he even shut the door. "My assistant." "Your assistant doesn't make your face do that." "Do what." "Go still. Like someone switched off a screen." He set his phone face down on the dresser. That was new. He never hid his phone from me before tonight. "It's a work problem," he said. "Nothing you need right now." "You said everything. An hour ago. Sitting right there." I pointed at the chair he had walked away from. "That was your word. Everything." "I know what I said." "So?" "So I need one more day before the last part. That's all I'm asking you." I studied him the way I used to study Margaret across a dinner table, reading a face for the one detail nobody meant to show me. Seven months of marriage teaches a person a man's tells, whether he wants to hand them over or not. Damien had two faces I already knew. The flat one he wore in boardrooms, built to make other men feel small. And the tired one underneath it, the on

CELESTE'S POV"Don't look at the phone," I said. "Look at me."His eyes came back to my face, but the buzzing on the nightstand did not stop. Three times. Then quiet."Celeste, listen—""No. You said a death. You don't get to stop there."He picked the invoice back up off the bed like it had gone cold in the minute he'd put it down. His thumb moved over Margaret's signature, slow, the way a man checks a wound to see if it's still bleeding."I need dates from you first," he said. "Your mother. When exactly did she die.""You know when she died. Everyone in that house knows the date. It's the day Margaret stopped pretending to be nice to me.""I need the exact date, Celeste. Not the year. The day."Something in his voice made my stomach drop before my mouth caught up. "March fourteenth," I said. "Why."He didn't answer right away. He set the invoice down and pulled out his phone, the real one, not the one on the nightstand still buzzing with whatever waited on the screen. He opened some

DAMIEN'S POV"Say something," she said. "Anything. Because that silence is starting to feel like an answer I don't want."I looked at her standing by the window, arms still wrapped around herself, and I understood something in that second that took me longer than it should have. She was not asking me to be careful anymore. She was asking me to choose."Okay," I said."Okay what.""Okay, I'll help you find the name. All of it. Whatever it costs."She did not move right away. I watched her chest rise once, slow, like she had been holding that breath since the moment the invoice landed on the dresser."You mean that.""I don't say things I don't mean. You know that about me by now.""I need to hear the whole sentence, Damien. Not the short version."I crossed the room and stood in front of her, close enough that she had to tilt her head up to keep looking at me."I will get you the name," I said. "I will get you proof that holds up somewhere a judge has to listen to it. I am not going to