Chapter 7

Just as Natalie Chambers teetered toward the ground, Vivienne Hayes's hand shot out, seizing her arm with a grip of steel. Natalie twisted, her eyes widening in shock. Vivienne leaned close, her voice a low, icy whisper that sent a shiver down Natalie's spine. "If you're staging a show, at least sell it. Need pointers? I'd be delighted to coach you."

Fear flashed across Natalie's face as she met Vivienne's sharp, glinting gaze. The hospital garden sprawled around them, its manicured grounds dotted with ornamental stones. Vivienne's gaze swept the terrain, assessing Natalie's potential landing. Then, with a flick of her wrist, she released her.

A sickening thud followed as Natalie's forehead struck a rock. A vivid red mark blossomed on her skin, lending unintended authenticity to her fragile act. The incident unfolded so swiftly that neither Natalie nor Warren fully registered it.

Warren Mitchell's voice, raw with fury, sliced through the stillness. "Vivienne, do you even realize what you've done?"

Vivienne's face settled into a cool, detached mask. She shrugged. "Oops. My mistake."

"You—" Warren's words stumbled, his eyes searching her expression for guilt, finding none.

One of Vivienne's brows arched gracefully, her lips curling into a taunting smirk. "What, don't buy it? Funny how Natalie's 'accidents' earn your faith, but mine don't. Maybe I should brush up on my acting."

Natalie probed the swelling welt on her forehead, each touch igniting fresh pain. Her glare burned with loathing as she met Vivienne's gaze, her jaw clenched. For someone whose career depended on her looks, this blow cut deeper than the flesh wound. Vivienne's ferocity had caught her completely off guard.

Ignoring Natalie's seething hatred, Vivienne's tone dripped with mockery. "Here's a tip, Natalie—stay out of my way next time. You won't walk away with just a blemish."

Warren stepped between them, his stance protective, his eyes blazing a threat at Vivienne. "You're out of line, Vivienne!"

"Since you've noticed my 'irrationality,' perhaps you two should steer clear," she retorted, her smirk sharpening. "I don't waste time on things that sicken me. What I can't stand, I erase."

Warren's face darkened, his hands clenching into fists. "Take it out on me if you have to—leave Natalie alone!"

"Scrapping over trash?" Vivienne's voice dripped with scorn as she sized him up. "You think too highly of yourself."

His scowl deepened into a menacing warning. "Hate me all you like, but I won't let you touch her." He crouched, scooping Natalie into his arms, and threw Vivienne one last livid glance before stalking away.

As their shadows receded, the tears Vivienne had suppressed began to well. Three years of her life—her loyalty, her severed ties—all reduced to nothing. She had given up her family for him, only to be left grasping at air. But the moment she decided to cut him loose, turning back became impossible.