Vivian sat in a cramped storage room that had been hastily converted into an office. Two days ago, she had a real office with a window. Yesterday, Olivia Lane, the Marketing Director, had informed her that due to "departmental restructuring" and "space optimization," her office was needed for the new consultants.

Now she sat between stacks of archived tax returns and a flickering fluorescent light. It was a petty, calculated move. Olivia knew exactly what she was doing.

Her phone buzzed on the desk. It was a notification from Page Six.

She shouldn't look. She knew the pattern now. Pain was addictive.

She swiped the screen.

Headline: SERENA CHASE REUNITES WITH BILLIONAIRE EX JULIAN STERLING.

Vivian zoomed in on the photo. It was grainy, taken from a distance, but the man was unmistakable. He was wearing a charcoal suit. The same charcoal suit Julian had put on this morning. The suit he was wearing when he handed her the divorce papers.

Her desk phone rang. The sharp, digital trill made her jump.

She picked it up. "Vivian Miller," she said. She had stopped using Sterling.

Vivian. It was Julian. His voice was clipped, professional. "I need you to go to the Hamptons house."

Vivian blinked. The Hamptons? It was a two-hour drive, or more with traffic.

Why? she asked.

I left some documents in the safe in the library. The merger files. I need them by tomorrow morning. My assistant is tied up with the press release, and I don't trust a courier with these.

Vivian frowned. She had been at the Hamptons house last week to open it for the summer season. She had checked the safe. It was empty.

She knew he was lying. Or maybe he just wanted her out of the city.

Okay, she said. Her voice was monotone.

Take the company car, he ordered. "And Vivian... drive safely."

He hung up.

Vivian walked down to the garage. She didn't take the company car with a driver. She took one of the pool cars, a nondescript sedan. She didn't want a driver reporting her every move to Julian.

She drove out of the city. The traffic was heavy. She got stuck at a red light on Fifth Avenue, right across from The Pierre Hotel.

She looked out the window. She couldn't help it. It was like picking at a scab.

The gold revolving doors of the hotel spun slowly.

A couple walked out.

It was Julian and Serena.

They were arm in arm. Serena was laughing, her head thrown back, her blonde hair catching the sunlight. She looked radiant. She looked like a movie star.

And Julian... Julian was smiling.

It wasn't the polite smile he gave donors. It wasn't the tight smile he gave Vivian. It was a real smile. It reached his eyes. He looked younger. He looked happy.

He was wearing a blue tie.

Vivian stared at the tie. Her hands gripped the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned blue.

She had bought him that tie for their third anniversary. It was a specific shade of azure. When she gave it to him, he had frowned. "I don't like blue, Vivian. You know that." He had never worn it.

Now, he was wearing it. For her.

He was wearing Vivian's gift to woo his mistress.

Vivian felt a sharp cramp in her lower abdomen. It was a pinch, a warning.

Panic overrode the jealousy. The baby. Stress is the enemy.

She breathed deeply. In through her nose, out through her mouth. One. Two. Three. She forced her hands to relax on the wheel. She couldn't let him kill this child with his cruelty.

The light turned green. The car behind her honked aggressively.

Vivian didn't look back at the hotel. She stepped on the gas.

The drive to the Hamptons was a blur of highway and trees. She arrived at the estate as the sun was setting. The house was massive, a sprawling mansion of cedar shingles and white trim. It looked beautiful. It felt like a mausoleum.

She unlocked the front door. The silence of the house was heavy. It smelled of lemon polish and stale air.

She walked to the library. She opened the safe behind the painting.

It was empty.

Of course it was empty.

He hadn't needed documents. He just wanted her out of the city. He wanted her away so he could parade Serena around without the risk of running into his wife at the office or the apartment.

Vivian sat on the floor of the library. The Persian rug was rough under her hands.

She was completely alone.

She touched the silk scarf around her neck. It was a tie-dye pattern she had made herself. She unknotted it slowly.

She walked to the trash can in the corner of the room. She dropped the scarf in.

Then she saw it.

On the corner of the heavy oak desk, gleaming in the twilight, was an earring.

It was a long, diamond drop earring. It wasn't hers. Vivian only wore studs.

Julian had brought Serena here. Before the divorce was even discussed. Before he handed her the papers. They had been here. In her house.

Vivian didn't scream. She didn't cry. She felt a cold, hard resolve settle in her chest.

She picked up the earring. She put it in her pocket, right next to the disguised bottle of pills.

Evidence.

Vivian fell asleep on the sofa in the library. She woke up to the sound of tires crunching on gravel.

It was late. Past midnight.

She wiped her face, smoothing her hair. She wouldn't let him see her disheveled.

The front door opened. Julian walked in. He looked tired, but there was a softness to his edges that hadn't been there before. The aftermath of a good evening.

He saw her sitting in the library. He looked surprised.

You're still up, he said.

I couldn't sleep, Vivian said. "The safe was empty, Julian."

He didn't even flinch. He walked into the room, unbuttoning his cuffs. "I must have left them in the city office. My mistake."

He was lying so easily now.

He placed a small, black velvet box on the coffee table in front of her.

For you, he said. "A parting gift."

Vivian's heart did a treacherous flip. For a second, a foolish, stupid second, she thought he had come to apologize. She thought he had realized his mistake.

Open it, he urged.

She reached out and snapped the lid open.

Inside lay a diamond tennis bracelet. It was thick, heavy with stones. It must have cost fifty thousand dollars. It was beautiful. It was cold. It was generic.

It looked like something you bought for a mistress, or a distant relative. It had no personality.

Serena helped me pick it out, he said casually. "She has great taste."

Vivian felt the air leave the room.

He didn't realize. He genuinely didn't realize the cruelty of that statement. He was giving his wife a divorce gift picked out by the woman he was leaving her for.

Vivian snapped the box shut. The sound was like a gunshot in the quiet room.

I don't want it, she said.

Julian sighed. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. "Don't be difficult, Vivian. It's a gesture of goodwill."

Goodwill? Vivian repeated.

The trust fund will be set up next week, he switched to business mode. "You'll never have to work again. You can travel. You can do whatever you want."

I want to work, she said.

Not at Sterling Corp, he countered immediately.

Why not? I'm good at my job.

It would be awkward, Julian said. "For Serena. She's going to be the face of the new campaign. Having my ex-wife in the PR department... it sends the wrong message."

Vivian laughed. It was a dry, broken sound.

So I lose my husband, my home, and my job?

You gain your freedom, he said.

Vivian looked at him. She really looked at him. She saw the man she had loved for ten years. And she realized she didn't know him at all. He was a stranger. A selfish, oblivious stranger.

She placed a hand on her stomach.

What if I wanted something else? she asked softly.

Julian checked his watch. "It's late, Vivian. We can discuss the logistics tomorrow."

He turned to leave the room.

He didn't care what she wanted. He never had.

Vivian looked at the bracelet on the table. It glittered under the lamp, mocking her.

She stood up and walked past him. She went to the guest room. She locked the door.

She sat on the bed and pulled out her phone. She opened her email.

There was a message from Olivia Lane.

Subject: Mandatory Meeting.

Meeting at 9 AM tomorrow. Don't be late. We have big changes to discuss.

Vivian deleted the email.

She decided then and there. She would sign the papers. But she would do it on her terms. And she would make sure he never, ever found out about the baby.

Vivian arrived at Sterling Corp HQ at 8:45 AM. Her access badge took two tries to work. The red light blinked at her, a warning. When it finally turned green, the receptionist, a girl Vivian had bought coffee for a dozen times, looked down at her desk, avoiding eye contact.

The grapevine was faster than fiber optics. Everyone knew.

Vivian walked to the PR department. The usually buzzing floor went silent as she passed. Heads ducked behind monitors. Whispers trailed in her wake like smoke.

She entered the main conference room.

Olivia Lane sat at the head of the table. She was wearing a red dress, aggressive and bright.

Behind her, on the projection screen, were giant digital posters. They were mock-ups of the new campaign.

Serena Chase's face was everywhere.

We're rebranding, Olivia said. She didn't say hello. She didn't offer Vivian a seat.

Lily Evans is out, Olivia continued. "Serena is in."

Vivian frowned. Lily Evans was the current face of the brand. She was a sweet girl, a rising model who had just signed a two-year contract. Vivian had negotiated that contract herself.

Lily has a contract, Vivian said. "You can't just fire her."

Olivia smirked. She tapped her pen on the table. "Julian authorized the breach fee. He wants the slate wiped clean."

Vivian felt a headache blooming behind her eyes. The waste of money. The cruelty to Lily. It was all for Serena.

This is unprofessional, Olivia, Vivian said, keeping her voice steady.

Olivia leaned forward. Her eyes glittered with malice.

We're streamlining, Olivia said, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. "Cutting the dead weight. Honestly, Vivian, with your... background, it's a miracle you lasted this long in a company of this caliber. Budget cuts are tough, but we can't keep supporting charity cases just because of old family debts."

Vivian's blood ran cold.

Olivia was talking about her father. Her adoptive father, Miller. He had been a good man, a hardworking man who died of a heart attack trying to pay for her tuition before the Sterlings stepped in. He wasn't a "charity case." He was a victim of the very capitalist machine Sterling Corp represented.

Take that back, Vivian said quietly. Her hands were shaking.

Olivia laughed. It was a high, ugly sound. "Or what? You'll tell your ex-husband? Oh wait, he doesn't care about you anymore. He's finally with a woman of his own class."

Vivian snapped.

The rage that had been building for days-the pregnancy, the divorce, the lies, the bracelet-it all focused into a single point.

She walked up to Olivia.

She didn't think. She swung her hand.

Slap.

The sound echoed in the glass-walled room. It was loud, crisp, violent.

Olivia's head snapped to the side. She screamed, holding her cheek. It was a fake, dramatic scream, but the red mark on her face was real.

I am going to sue you! Olivia shrieked.

The glass door to the conference room flew open.

Julian stood there.

He took in the scene instantly. Olivia sobbing theatrically. Vivian standing there, chest heaving, her hand still raised.

He didn't ask what happened. He didn't look at Vivian's tear-filled eyes. He looked at Olivia.

Vivian, come to my office, he barked.

Now, he added.

Vivian lowered her hand. Her palm stung. She felt sick.

She walked past him. She held her head high, but her legs felt like jelly.

Behind her, she heard Olivia sniffle. "She's unstable, Julian. I was just discussing the budget..."

Vivian walked into the hallway. She didn't look back. She knew who he would believe.