158 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
158 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
“Ready to go?” Elara asked lightly.
She dressed carefully in a simple navy dress, appropriate for her return to work. After finally cleared her to resume normal activities, though he
her illness, Dr. Sanders hic
cautioned against overexertion.
Coco nodded without looking up.
Elara sighed. “I can drive you in my car, sweetheart.”
–
“Is Daddy still working?” Coco asked, her blue like Damien’s–darting toward the hallway leading to his study.
As they disappeared toward the kitchen, Elara finally rose from her seat. Through the window, she watched Damien’s sleek black car pull away from the manor. The Shanghai project was important–she knew this from the discussions she’d overheard between Damien and his board. But she also knew Vivienne was spearheading the Chinese market expansion for Thorne Industries.
But Coco had already hit the call button and was holding the phone to her ear with a triumphant smile. After two rings, the line connected.
Coco lit up. “Daddy!” She dashed after him, with Eleanor following close behind.
“Of course not, sweetheart.” Elara brushed a strand of hair from Coco’s forehead. “I’m not mad at you.”
With a quick kiss to Coco’s forehead and a nod to Eleanor, he was gone. The heavy front door closed with a decisive thud.
As they walked to the garage, Elara placed a hand on Coco’s shoulder. “Who answered Daddy’s phone?”
She had endured enough. The pretense, the lies, the constant reminders of her irrelevance in her own marriage. There had to be an end to it.
Coco climbed out slowly, then turned back. “Vivi said she’s helping Daddy with an important meeting. That’s why she has his phone.” The explanation tumbled out, as if Coco felt compelled to defend them both.
158 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
She touched the cool glass of the window, watching until his car disappeared through
the manor gates.
Coco’s silence was answer enough.
“I didn’t say anything,” Coco insisted, but her eyes darted away.
The drive passed in uncomfortable silence. At the school drop–off, Coco hesitated before opening the door.
Sleep came fitfully that night. Elara woke several times, turning to find Damien’s side of the bed empty. By morning, it was clear he hadn’t returned at all.
Coco’s cheeks pinked. “It’s not a fib if she does it today.”
Eleanor Thorne bustled into the room, her face pinched with irritation. “That grandson of mine! Do you know what he’s doing on a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon?”
“We’ll take my car,” Elara said, her tone gentle but firm.
Vivienne answering Damien’s phone in the early morning. The overnight bag. The Shanghai project excuse.
He straightened, smoothing his already immaculate suit jacket. “It can’t, Eleanor. The time difference with Shanghai means we need to address this now.”
Eleanor lowered her newspaper. “He called while you were dressing. Said he’d be tied up all day and would try to make it home for dinner.”
The “we” didn’t escape Elara’s notice. Neither did the packed leather overnight bag by the door that Martha must have prepared for him.
Downstairs, she found Coco picking at her breakfast, Eleanor reading the morning paper with a frown.
“Good morning,” Elara said, accepting a cup of coffee from Martha.
Coco’s shoulders slumped. “He promised we’d watch a movie tonight.”
“It’s important to him,” Elara replied mildly, masking the familiar ache that accompanied any mention of Vivienne.
Eleanor muttered something under her breath before turning to Coco. “Come, darling. Let’s see about that ice cream.”
158 Answering to
158 Answering to Vivienne’s Volco
The kitchen fell silent. Eleanor glanced between Coco and Elara, confusion evident on
her face.
Eleanor nodded, though concern lingered in her eyes. “Don’t overdo it on your first day back.”
“Are you mad at Daddy? Or at Vivi?”
Eleanor sat heavily in the armchair across from her. “Well, he should be spending time with his family. You’re barely recovered, and Coco has been asking to go riding all day? “With Vivienne!” Eleanor’s voice carried a note of distaste. “Some project they simply
must complete today, apparently. As if u ds mean nothing
Elara remained seated, watching through the doorway as her daughter caught up to Damien in the entryway. He paused his conversation briefly, crouching down to Coco’s level.
“Who was that, dear?” Eleanor asked.
“Daddy didn’t come home,” Coco stated flatly.
“Tomorrow night,” Damien promised, ruffling her hair. “I’ll be back late.”
Before Elara could object, Coco had grabbed Eleanor’s phone from the table and was scrolling through the contacts.
The lack of surprise Elara felt was telling. This pattern had grown too familiar to elicit much reaction anymore.
“Hi, Da-” Coco’s greeting died abruptly. Her eyes widened, and she nearly dropped the phone. “Oh! Vi—”
“I’m afraid so,” Eleanor sighed.
Elara marked her place in the book. “Working in his study, I assume?”
Coco pushed her plate away. “Mom, will you drive me to school today? In Daddy’s car?”
Eleanor stepped forward, arms crossed. “Damien, surely whatever it is can wait until morning.”
168 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
Coco recovered quickly. “Um, wrong number! Sorry!” She jabbed at the screen frantically, ending the call.
She found Coco in the foyer, backpack clutched to her chest, eyes downcast.
Eleanor’s expression softened immediately. “Just a small bowl, darling. Dinner will be ready soon.”
“I have to go to the office, princess. Something’s come up with the Shanghai project. “Will you be home for breakfast?” Coco asked, her disappointment evident.
Coco’s step faltered. “No one. I told you, wrong number.”
Elara set her book aside. “I could watch one with you after dinner.”
“He must have been very busy,” Elara replied, spreading a thin layer of jam on her toast. Elara nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “I see. Have a good day at school.” Damien’s gaze flicked to his watch. “I’ll try. Be good for your mother and grandmother.”
unwelcome images: Damien and Vivienne Elara started the car, her mind racing together, her phone casually picking up his calls as they shared breakfast, or perhaps something more intimate.
“Coco, wait-” Elara started.
Elara managed a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I won’t.”
“Damien has always prioritized work,” Elara said, her words practiced and hollow.
Elara focused on smoothing a dog–eared page, avoiding Eleanor’s perceptive gaze. She’d long ago learned the futility of defending herself against Vivienne’s intrusions into her marriage.
Eleanor snorted. “This isn’t just work. That woman has him wrapped around her finger.”
She waited until Coco disappeared through the school doors before allowing her composure to crack. Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.
Elara sat in the sunlit window seat, turning pages of her novel without absorbing the
158 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
words. Her recovery from illness had been slow but steady. Physically, she felt
stronger, but her mind remained clouded with thoughts that circled like persistent
vultures.
The door burst open as Coco charged into the room, her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Grandmother! Can we have ice cream before dinner? Martha said I have
to ask you.”
“Mom? Are you mad at me?”
But she had seen Coco’s expression–the momentary shock, the almost–spoken name. Vivienne. Answering Damien’s phone at eight in the morning.
Protecting her from scrutiny. Keeping his marriage and daughter away from the prying eyes of colleagues and competitors who might use that information against Vivienne. Elarà had pieced together Damien’s motivations long ago.
“I should get Coco to school,” Elara said, rising from her seat. “And then head to the office. Julian is expecting me back today.”
As Coco scurried from the room, Eleanor turned to Elara. “What was that about?”
And perhaps, finally, she was ready to define that end herself.
Before Elara could respond, the study door opened down the hall. Damien emerged with his phone pressed to his ear, his voice a low murmur as he strode toward the foyer.
“But Daddy promised.” Coco’s lower lip jutted out. “He said we’d watch the new princess movie together.”
“Honey, you know I don’t drive your father’s car.” The sleek Mercedes was strictly off–limits to her–another unspoken boundary in their marriage.
“It’s okay,” Elara said softly, though nothing felt okay. “Let’s get you to school.”
As she pulled away from the school, a strange calm settled over her. The pain was still there–it always would be–but something else was emerging alongside it. A clarity. A decision, crystallizing with each mile she drove toward her office.
“But everyone will see Daddy’s car in the drop–off lane. Please?” Coco clasped her hands together dramatically. “I’ll call him and ask permission.”
158 Answering to Vivienne’s Voice
Eleanor chuckled. “Well, that’s a fib, isn’t it, Coco?”
The innocent question landed like a physical blow. “Go on now. You’ll be late.”
Elara felt her body go cold.
“Coco.” Elara stopped, turning her daughter to face her. “I heard what you started to
say.”
Elara knelt to her daughter’s level, meeting those familiar blue eyes. “Was it Vivienne?”
Elara’s hands were perfectly steady as she lifted her coffee cup. “I believe she dialed the wrong number.”
“Please?” Coco’s eyes widened pleadingly. “Jessica says her mom has a car just like Daddy’s, and I told her my mom drives one too.”
“No one,” Coco mumbled, sliding from her chair. “I need to get my backpack.”
Each piece fit perfectly into a picture she’d been trying not to see for years. The evidence had always been there, but this–Vivienne’s voice when Coco expected her father’s–was the clearest confirmation yet.
“But our movie!” Coco protested.
Case
