Chapter 7
The meeting was set for noon. A neutral restaurant. Public.
I dressed in armor — black dress, heels, hair pulled back tight. War paint.
Damien drove himself, which surprised me. No guard. No entourage. Just us in a black car cutting through the city.
"If he says anything that doesn't sit right, we leave," Damien said, eyes on the road. "No arguments."
I nodded.
My father was already there when we arrived. He looked ten years older than I remembered — gray at his temples, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. When he saw me, he stood. When he saw Damien behind me, he froze.
"Vivian." His voice was hoarse. "You look well."
I sat across from him without hugging him. Without smiling. Damien stood behind my chair like a shadow.
"Explain," I said.
Richard's hands trembled around his water glass. "You have to understand — I was in too deep. The gambling, the debts — they spiraled. Blackwell's father was the one I originally owed. When he died and this one—" he glanced at Damien with barely concealed fear, "—inherited the debt, I thought I had time."
"You sold me."
"I had no choice—"
"You always have a choice!" My voice rose. The nearby tables glanced over.
Richard flinched. "He was going to kill me, Vivian. I—"
"And Mom?" I cut in. My voice dropped to a blade's edge. "Was killing her a choice?"
The color drained from his face.
"I don't — I didn't—"
"The insurance policy. The fabricated medical records. Damien knows everything, so don't bother lying."
Richard's eyes darted to Damien, then back to me. His mouth opened and closed like a fish drowning in air.
"It was Ethan's idea," he whispered.
I blinked. "What?"
"The policy on you — that was all Ethan. He approached me two years ago. Said if we could — if something happened to you — we'd both be clear of debt." Richard's voice broke. "But your mother... that was before. That was before I understood—"
"You killed her." I couldn't breathe. "You're admitting it."
Tears spilled down his cheeks. "She found the gambling records. She was going to leave me and take you. I couldn't — I panicked—"
I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.
"You murdered my mother because she was going to leave you?"
The restaurant had gone silent.
"Vivian, please—"
"Don't." I stepped back. "Don't ever say my name again."
I turned and walked toward the exit, my vision blurring. Damien was beside me in an instant, his hand on my lower back — steady, grounding.
We made it to the car before I broke. The sound that came out of me wasn't crying — it was something primal. Something ripped from my chest.
Damien didn't speak. He pulled me against him and held me while I shattered, his hand cradling the back of my head, his lips pressed to my temple.
"I've got you," he murmured. "I've got you."
When the tears finally slowed, I pulled back and looked at him with swollen eyes.
"I want to destroy him."
Damien's expression was unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, a dark smile curved his lips.
"Then we destroy him together."
I dressed in armor — black dress, heels, hair pulled back tight. War paint.
Damien drove himself, which surprised me. No guard. No entourage. Just us in a black car cutting through the city.
"If he says anything that doesn't sit right, we leave," Damien said, eyes on the road. "No arguments."
I nodded.
My father was already there when we arrived. He looked ten years older than I remembered — gray at his temples, dark circles carved beneath his eyes. When he saw me, he stood. When he saw Damien behind me, he froze.
"Vivian." His voice was hoarse. "You look well."
I sat across from him without hugging him. Without smiling. Damien stood behind my chair like a shadow.
"Explain," I said.
Richard's hands trembled around his water glass. "You have to understand — I was in too deep. The gambling, the debts — they spiraled. Blackwell's father was the one I originally owed. When he died and this one—" he glanced at Damien with barely concealed fear, "—inherited the debt, I thought I had time."
"You sold me."
"I had no choice—"
"You always have a choice!" My voice rose. The nearby tables glanced over.
Richard flinched. "He was going to kill me, Vivian. I—"
"And Mom?" I cut in. My voice dropped to a blade's edge. "Was killing her a choice?"
The color drained from his face.
"I don't — I didn't—"
"The insurance policy. The fabricated medical records. Damien knows everything, so don't bother lying."
Richard's eyes darted to Damien, then back to me. His mouth opened and closed like a fish drowning in air.
"It was Ethan's idea," he whispered.
I blinked. "What?"
"The policy on you — that was all Ethan. He approached me two years ago. Said if we could — if something happened to you — we'd both be clear of debt." Richard's voice broke. "But your mother... that was before. That was before I understood—"
"You killed her." I couldn't breathe. "You're admitting it."
Tears spilled down his cheeks. "She found the gambling records. She was going to leave me and take you. I couldn't — I panicked—"
I stood so fast my chair scraped the floor.
"You murdered my mother because she was going to leave you?"
The restaurant had gone silent.
"Vivian, please—"
"Don't." I stepped back. "Don't ever say my name again."
I turned and walked toward the exit, my vision blurring. Damien was beside me in an instant, his hand on my lower back — steady, grounding.
We made it to the car before I broke. The sound that came out of me wasn't crying — it was something primal. Something ripped from my chest.
Damien didn't speak. He pulled me against him and held me while I shattered, his hand cradling the back of my head, his lips pressed to my temple.
"I've got you," he murmured. "I've got you."
When the tears finally slowed, I pulled back and looked at him with swollen eyes.
"I want to destroy him."
Damien's expression was unreadable for a moment. Then, slowly, a dark smile curved his lips.
"Then we destroy him together."