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“Hardly strange at all,” Vivienne countered. “The Vances clearly hoped to compete. But look around you-” she gestured to the crowded room, “-who’s winning?”
“Why would he do this?” she whispered, forgetting herself for a moment.
“Actually,” a female voice interrupted, “I’m not sure that’s accurate.”
Vivienne accepted the drink with a practiced smile. “He’s finishing up at the office. You know how he is about work.”
The implied insult hung in the air. Linda Shaw’s smile froze in place.
“They still look quite cozy for a couple supposedly getting divorced,” someone
remarked.
“Our party is going splendidly,” she insisted. “One or two absences hardly matter.”
“This was taken twenty minutes ago,” Marissa continued, enjoying the stunned silence. “At Clara Bellweather’s birthday dinner.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s not answering your calls,” Linda whispered urgently in her ear.
“And Zachary Newman is there too?”
Linda had no answer. Neither did Vivienne herself.
Her finger hovered over Julian’s number next. If anyone knew what was happening at the Bellweather dinner, it would be him. But pride stopped her. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared.
The photo was unmistakable. Damien Thorne sitting at an elegantly set table, engaged in conversation with Zachary Newman. And beside him–Elara.
The implication was clear. The tide was turning, and quickly.
“Damien Thorne chose the Vance event over this one?”
Beck’s phone buzzed in his/pocket. He checked the screen, and his expression changed instantly. “Excuse me,” he muttered. “I need to make a call.”
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The whispers began immediately, spreading through the party like wildfire.
“Perhaps there’s been a misunderstanding,” she suggested smoothly. “Damien likely stopped by Clara’s birthday dinner out of courtesy before coming here.”
The Shaws‘ stately grandfather clock chimed ten. Vivienne’s smile remained fixed in place as she greeted more guests, accepted compliments on her dress, and deflected questions about Damien’s absence.
“My friend just sent me this,” she explained, turning the screen toward the small gathering that had formed. “It seems Damien chose a different party tonight.”
Instead, she stood alone at an increasingly anxious gathering, while across town, Damien sat beside Elara at what was rapidly becoming the event of the season.
“Did you know?” a voice asked directly. Vivienne turned to find several guests staring at her expectantly. “Did you know Damien was attending the other event tonight?”
Lucas didn’t bother lowering his voice. “Riding on Damien’s coattails for years, and now even that’s ending. Without the Thorne name, she’s nothing”
“Did we back the wrong horse?”
“Damien still hasn’t arrived?” Linda Shaw asked, appearing at Vivienne’s side with two champagne flutes.
“He’s on his way,” she repeated for what felt like the hundredth time to Harrison Wells, a major investor in Thorne Industries.
Vivienne felt the blood drain from her face. With remarkable self–control, she kept her expression neutral even as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.
Vivienne noticed Beck’s hasty departure. Something about his abrupt exit triggered a flicker of concern. She pulled out her phone again and tried calling Damien. Straight to
voicemail.
“Of course,” Vivienne responded automatically, her social training taking over while her
mind raced.
Vivienne felt her careful composure beginning to crack. For years, she had methodically positioned herself as Damien’s natural companion, the sophisticated counterpart to his power. Tonight was meant to be another triumph in that campaign.
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years. Clara
“Not surprising,” Lucas snickered. “Their influence has been waning for Bellweather’s connections are outdated, and Victor’s recent investments have been disasters.”
“Everything alright?” Linda asked, appearing at her side again.
But it wasn’t one or two absences. As Vivienne glanced around the room, she noticed several guests discreetly checking their phones, whispering to their companions, some even making excuses to leave early.
“Most of the usual crowd chose this party,” Lucas was saying loudly enough for nearby guests to hear. “The Vance gathering is practically empty. Victor must be fuming.”
“And with Newman there too? The Vances must have more pull than we thought.”
Vivienne laughed softly. “Elara? Please. She may work at YodaVision now, but she’s hardly influential. Julian is the real power there.”
Beck nodded. “I heard they barely filled half their tables.”
“Isn’t it?” Marissa agreed. “Especially with Zachary Newman there. I heard he never attends private functions.”
Beck returned, his expression grave as he pulled Linda aside. Vivienne couldn’t hear what he said, but the way Linda’s face fell told her everything.
Across the room, Lucas Sterling was engaged in animated conversation with Beck Shaw, Linda’s husband.
“And Elara?” Beck asked, glancing cautiously in Vivienne’s direction.
“Did he?” Vivienne kept her tone light. “Julian must have pulled some strings. Those tech types always stick together.”
“Perfect,” Vivienne lied. “Just checking if Damien sent an update.”
Another guest joined their circle. “Did you hear? The Bellweather dinner isn’t nearly as empty as we thought. Several major players showed up after word spread about
Newman’s attendance.”
Vivienne felt the room closing in on her. The perfect evening she had orchestrated was unraveling thread by thread.
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The evening progressed with Vivienne periodically checking her phone. She’d saved the chair beside her for Damien, and with each passing hour, it became more conspicuously empty.
Vivienne turned to face Marissa Chen, one of the city’s most notorious gossips. Marissa held up her phone, her smile razor–sharp.
In that moment, Vivienne Dubois faced a truth she had desperately tried to ignore: despite all her careful maneuvering, she didn’t control Damien Thorne. And tonight, he had made that painfully, publicly clear.
Vivienne Dubois stood at the center of the Shaws‘ lavish housewarming party. Crystal chandeliers sparkled overhead as waiters with silver trays circulated through the crowd. Everything was perfect–except for the most important detail.
More guests gathered around Marissa, who was now displaying multiple photos from the Bellweather dinner. Each new image was like a dagger. Damien speaking with Clara. Damien presenting a gift. Damien with his hand on the back of Elara’s chair.
“The Kempler group just canceled,” Linda admitted. “Apparently they received an invitation to join the Bellweather party for after–dinner drinks.”
All eyes turned to her, waiting for her response. The question hung in the air, laden with implications about her relationship with Damien, her social standing, her very place in their world.
Linda seemed satisfied with this answer. “You’re probably right. Still, it’s strange that both events were scheduled for the same night.”
“And now Damien’s there too,” someone else added. “Makes you wonder which party is actually the place to be tonight.”
Harrison Wells cleared his throat again. “Perhaps I should check in at the Bellweather event. Purely for business reasons, you understand.”
Linda nodded sympathetically, though her eyes held a hint of doubt. “Of course. Though I heard Zachary Newman made quite an entrance at Clara Bellweather’s
dinner.”
“Problems?” Vivienne asked when Linda rejoined her.
Harrison Wells cleared his throat. “I see. Well, that’s… unexpected.”
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“You don’t think Elara had anything to do with it?” Linda pressed.
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