Leaving It All Behind
Three hours had bled away into the quiet rooms of the estate, but Vivienne found herself completely, unbreakably prepared.
She was ready to walk out and never look back.
There was nothing left in this house worth packing; even a single hairpin carried too heavy a ghost, reeking of her sham marriage, her hollowed-out devotion, and Dominic's calculated cruelty. She would leave with absolutely nothing.
A stray drop of moisture splashed against the paper resting on the tabletop as Vivienne pushed herself up from the chair.
Part of her desperately hoped he would never lay eyes on the final words she left behind, while another pathetic fragment craved the opposite—wanted him to choke on the knowledge of how deeply, foolishly she had once loved him.
She turned away from the room and headed for the central staircase. Thankfully, the ground floor seemed mercifully clear of Dominic and Monica, and at this point, she could not bring herself to care where they were hiding.
"Madam, are you leaving?" Tasha's voice caught her halfway across the sitting room, halting her steps.
Vivienne tilted her head back, meeting the shimmering, empathetic tears pooling in the young maid's eyes, and gave a brief, brittle nod.
"I'm heading out for work."
Tasha wasn't blind. She had witnessed Dominic and Monica swagger into the house together earlier like they already owned the place, and the tragic reality of her madam's exile was painfully obvious. Even so, the girl only nodded quietly.
"Sir Dominic stepped out about an hour ago. I'll make sure to let him know you're gone once he gets back," Tasha offered, her voice thick with sympathy.
"Alright, thank you, Tasha," Vivienne whispered, offering a ghost of a smile. Even now, under the crushing weight of her own ruin, her deeply rooted instinct to protect him flickered one last time. "Make sure you're always a good girl, and don't forget everything I taught you about my husband's favorite dishes. There's a written list of how he likes his meals prepared, along with every single thing he's allergic to. Be exceptionally careful to keep him away from shrimp—it could kill him."
Tasha swallowed hard and nodded, her chest aching. She had never witnessed a wife so impossibly devoted, still spending her final moments making sure her cheating husband wouldn't accidentally consume a lethal allergen.
She watched Vivienne turn her back on the luxurious interior. Leaving behind even her favorite car in the garage, Vivienne walked straight toward the front gates on her own two feet.
The moment she crossed the property line, a solitary tear slipped free, and she couldn't help glancing back over her shoulder at the massive, imposing mansion that had swallowed four years of her youth.
It was finally, irrevocably over.
There was no fight left in her, because there was nothing left to salvage. Monica possessed the single thing Dominic had spent years craving—a child of his own.
Even though Vivienne carried that exact same miracle beneath her flat stomach, she knew with agonizing certainty that Dominic would always choose Monica.
History was repeating its cruel, cyclical torture. Just as Monica's manipulative mother had stolen Vivienne's father away and shattered her childhood, the bloodline had struck again. If only she had ignored her own racing heart and turned Dominic down years ago.
Countless worthy suitors had laid their worlds at her feet back then, men who would have treasured her, but she had brushed them all aside for the privilege of chaining herself to a lie.
Like an inescapable stigma, that single choice would haunt her until her dying breath.
All she carried into the outside world now was an unborn infant—a fragile, secret life that would either heal her days with joy or serve as a permanent monument to her greatest mistake.
"Taxi."
She raised a hand to the street, her mind entirely made up. Dominic had rubbed his indifference right in her face, and she would release him simply because she loved him enough to let him rot in his own deceit.
A cab pulled over to the curb.
"Crestview Hotel, please," she instructed the driver, sliding into the back seat and immediately dragging her eyelids shut against the burning sting of fresh tears.
*Why did you leave, Mother? Does daddy not love you anymore?*
Her mother had simply smiled, gently smoothing down Vivienne's hair before lifting her onto her lap.
* They say, my darling, if you truly love someone, you have to let them go no matter how badly it tears you apart—simply because you love them and you want them to breathe easy.*
That was all she was doing now. Setting the man she had worshiped for years free, burying the agony deep within her own ribs.
"We're here, miss."
The driver's voice yanked her abruptly out of the memory, and she scrubbed furiously at her cheeks to wipe away the moisture she hadn't realized was escaping.
"Are you alright?" the driver asked, glancing back through the rearview mirror with a frown.
Vivienne offered a tight, reassuring nod. "I'm fine, thank you."
She stepped out onto the concrete and pulled a fifty-dollar bill from her pocket, handing it over without waiting for change. The driver muttered his thanks and pulled away into the traffic.
The Crestview Hotel loomed before her. Vivienne intended to use it as a brief, secure sanctuary for the night while she mapped out her escape from New York. To truly bury her old life and keep her baby safe from Dominic's orbit, she needed to vanish somewhere far beyond his reach.
This time, she swore to put herself first.
"Welcome to the Crestview." The young woman behind the front desk smiled brightly, her fresh-faced beauty serving as a painful reminder of Vivienne's own younger days before the world broke her.
Vivienne forced a polite smile, reaching into her small leather wallet.
"I'd like an executive room, please," she requested, extending a plastic card across the counter. In her distracted, emotionally exhausted state, she completely failed to realize she had pulled out the wrong card—the exact black credit card Dominic had casually tossed her six months ago.
The receptionist swiped it smoothly, handing it back alongside a green electronic keycard.
"Please kindly sign your name right here for our records," the clerk said politely, before tilting her head. "And may I have your full name, please?"
The question froze Vivienne for a heartbeat. She had just shed Dominic's name, and her father's name tasted like ash in her mouth.
"Vivienne Vance," she answered softly.
It wasn't her father's surname. It was her mother's maiden name. Her father's legacy had died years ago.
"Thank you, Ms. Vance. Take the elevator to the seventh floor, turn left, and you'll find room 501 waiting for you."
Vivienne nodded, turning away from the desk and stepping into the quiet elevator. When the car chimed at the seventh floor, she stepped out, turned left exactly as instructed, and approached room 501. The green light flashed a welcome as she pressed the card against the lock, and she slipped inside, letting the heavy door click shut behind her.
She crossed the space immediately, collapsing face-first onto the plush king-size bed in the center of the room, letting her eyes close as the physical and emotional exhaustion finally crashed over her in waves.
Fumbling blindly into her coat pocket, her fingers brushed against her mobile phone. There was one person left in her life—a secret relative she had kept entirely isolated from Dominic's world. Daphne would understand.
She tapped out the digits, pressing the phone to her ear. When the line connected, a loud, startled shriek echoed through the speaker.
"You probably thought I was dead, right?"
Vivienne let out a weary, genuine chuckle.
"I'm so sorry, couz. The last two years of my life have been an absolute dumpster fire, but I have a small surprise for you. I'm catching the very first flight out to Australia tomorrow morning, and I'm coming to stay."
It was far enough.
Australia was an ocean away from Dominic, Monica, and the smoking ruins of her past. With absolutely nothing left for her in New York, she had no intention of ever looking back.