Vivienne paced. The penthouse was beautiful, opulent in a way only Fitzpatrick could manage, but she wasn’t admiring anything. Her heels clacked against marble as she moved like a caged panther, her coat half-buttoned and hair a tousled cascade of frustration.
She dialed Amicia with a speed born of fury and habit, lifting the phone to her ear as she reached the wall of windows and stared out at the glittering coastline. The line clicked.
“Amicia,” she said sharply, voice low but laced with restrained fire. “You need to get on a plane. Tonight. Don’t argue. Don’t ask questions. Just pack your most ruthless heels and that little black dress that makes men forget their names. You’re coming to America.”
She paused, then exhaled a shaky breath. “That useless thing is back, and she bonded with Fitz again.” Her voice cracked just barely at the end, but she covered it with a bitter, breathless laugh. “Can you believe it? That wraith of a girl, the one who vanished without a spine or a goodbye, has returned to claim him like some half-starved saint. And he let her!!! This is the first time I have ever been disappointed in him. She broke him, darling. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be too disgusted to deal with this.”
Vivienne turned from the window and pressed her fingers to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut as if it could force away the image. “She offered him peace. A home. A future. And Fitz, gods help him, stood there swaying like a breath of wind could break him. Amicia, I’d rather disassociate myself from the family name than have her play a part in the future of our bloodline.” Vivi swallowed hard before continuing, “And if I’m totally honest, seeing him so broken over this…Nevermind. Surely, he’ll regain my respect.”
She stopped pacing, staring at a framed photo of them as children. “I gave him my blessing. I gave it because I had to. Because I won’t be the reason he falls again, but I don’t trust her. Not with his heart. Not with his life. And certainly not with our name.”
Vivienne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Come to America. I need your eyes on this. I need someone I trust.”
After a moment her voice shifted, softer but no less steel beneath. “And bring champagne. Something worth breaking over a balcony.”
She dialed Amicia with a speed born of fury and habit, lifting the phone to her ear as she reached the wall of windows and stared out at the glittering coastline. The line clicked.
“Amicia,” she said sharply, voice low but laced with restrained fire. “You need to get on a plane. Tonight. Don’t argue. Don’t ask questions. Just pack your most ruthless heels and that little black dress that makes men forget their names. You’re coming to America.”
She paused, then exhaled a shaky breath. “That useless thing is back, and she bonded with Fitz again.” Her voice cracked just barely at the end, but she covered it with a bitter, breathless laugh. “Can you believe it? That wraith of a girl, the one who vanished without a spine or a goodbye, has returned to claim him like some half-starved saint. And he let her!!! This is the first time I have ever been disappointed in him. She broke him, darling. If I didn’t love him so much, I’d be too disgusted to deal with this.”
Vivienne turned from the window and pressed her fingers to her temple, squeezing her eyes shut as if it could force away the image. “She offered him peace. A home. A future. And Fitz, gods help him, stood there swaying like a breath of wind could break him. Amicia, I’d rather disassociate myself from the family name than have her play a part in the future of our bloodline.” Vivi swallowed hard before continuing, “And if I’m totally honest, seeing him so broken over this…Nevermind. Surely, he’ll regain my respect.”
She stopped pacing, staring at a framed photo of them as children. “I gave him my blessing. I gave it because I had to. Because I won’t be the reason he falls again, but I don’t trust her. Not with his heart. Not with his life. And certainly not with our name.”
Vivienne’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Come to America. I need your eyes on this. I need someone I trust.”
After a moment her voice shifted, softer but no less steel beneath. “And bring champagne. Something worth breaking over a balcony.”
The air outside the courtroom was thick with the scent of damp stone and the perfume of old power. Cameras flashed behind her, but none dared call her name. She walked like judgment personified, her heels clicking against the steps in deliberate, lethal rhythm. She had won, of course. That was expected, and the press wanted every picture. Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. She didn’t look. She knew who it was.
Vivienne never called like this unless the world was cracking.
She waited until she was in the car, privacy glass, imported leather, silence like a sealed tomb, before answering. “Vivienne, darling.” She said it softly, but the word carried weight. Reverence, possession, danger.
The voice that came through the speaker was a familiar storm. Clipped, furious, unraveling in the way only Vivienne could unravel: beautifully, bitterly, with precision. Amicia listened, eyes on the rain threading down the window, saying nothing as the story poured out. The wraith is back. He let her. She offered him peace. I gave my blessing. Each line twisted deeper, but Amicia’s expression didn’t change.
When the silence came, it stretched. Held. And then, like ice cracking beneath pressure: “She offered him peace?” Amicia echoed slowly, dangerously, her voice like chilled glass, and venomous. “How darling. Like a dove placing a ribbon on a wolf’s throat and pretending she’s not handing him a noose.”
She exhaled slowly, deliberately. “Tell me, Vivienne… did she look fragile when she did it? Did she blink up at him with that glass-boned innocence, all tremble and tragedy? That’s how they always try. They show up starving, whispering about redemption, and expect us to kneel at their feet for being weak in the right light.”
She made a noise, barely a laugh that didn’t cover the disgust, but kept the hurt buried. “She broke him, you say. No, my darling. He broke for her. That’s worse.”
Amicia shifted, dragging one leg over the other, her heel tapping softly now against the leather seat. “I’ll come. Of course I’ll come. I’ll bring the heels, the dress, the champagne, and the smile that says, I hope you try me. If Darsey wants to pretend history is a dream and this little revenant is its promise, I’ll play the part. But if she so much as looks at you like a threat, Vivi… I will make her bleed.”
Another pause then as her voice softened, dark and deadly like velvet over fire. “You are the only reason I’m not already on a flight without my horn. I trust your blessing. But I trust your instincts more. And if they’re screaming loud enough to call me, of all people, then she’s already made her first mistake.”
She glanced down at her nails. Perfect. Poisonous. Red like rubies dripping in blood. “I’ll be in the air by midnight. Text me the address, and make sure the balcony is clean. I prefer to break things without getting dust on my shoes. In the meantime, go out, and find yourself a pretty boy to distract your mind until I get there.”
As the car drove through the London streets, the skies dreary, Amicia spoke one last line. “And Vivi… he’ll come back to us. He always does. Some lights burn too hot to stay dim for long. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Vivienne never called like this unless the world was cracking.
She waited until she was in the car, privacy glass, imported leather, silence like a sealed tomb, before answering. “Vivienne, darling.” She said it softly, but the word carried weight. Reverence, possession, danger.
The voice that came through the speaker was a familiar storm. Clipped, furious, unraveling in the way only Vivienne could unravel: beautifully, bitterly, with precision. Amicia listened, eyes on the rain threading down the window, saying nothing as the story poured out. The wraith is back. He let her. She offered him peace. I gave my blessing. Each line twisted deeper, but Amicia’s expression didn’t change.
When the silence came, it stretched. Held. And then, like ice cracking beneath pressure: “She offered him peace?” Amicia echoed slowly, dangerously, her voice like chilled glass, and venomous. “How darling. Like a dove placing a ribbon on a wolf’s throat and pretending she’s not handing him a noose.”
She exhaled slowly, deliberately. “Tell me, Vivienne… did she look fragile when she did it? Did she blink up at him with that glass-boned innocence, all tremble and tragedy? That’s how they always try. They show up starving, whispering about redemption, and expect us to kneel at their feet for being weak in the right light.”
She made a noise, barely a laugh that didn’t cover the disgust, but kept the hurt buried. “She broke him, you say. No, my darling. He broke for her. That’s worse.”
Amicia shifted, dragging one leg over the other, her heel tapping softly now against the leather seat. “I’ll come. Of course I’ll come. I’ll bring the heels, the dress, the champagne, and the smile that says, I hope you try me. If Darsey wants to pretend history is a dream and this little revenant is its promise, I’ll play the part. But if she so much as looks at you like a threat, Vivi… I will make her bleed.”
Another pause then as her voice softened, dark and deadly like velvet over fire. “You are the only reason I’m not already on a flight without my horn. I trust your blessing. But I trust your instincts more. And if they’re screaming loud enough to call me, of all people, then she’s already made her first mistake.”
She glanced down at her nails. Perfect. Poisonous. Red like rubies dripping in blood. “I’ll be in the air by midnight. Text me the address, and make sure the balcony is clean. I prefer to break things without getting dust on my shoes. In the meantime, go out, and find yourself a pretty boy to distract your mind until I get there.”
As the car drove through the London streets, the skies dreary, Amicia spoke one last line. “And Vivi… he’ll come back to us. He always does. Some lights burn too hot to stay dim for long. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Vivienne’s fingers trembled slightly as she ended the call. Not from fear, but from fury and from the breathless relief of being understood. Amicia hadn’t hesitated. She’d heard the storm and met it with thunder.
She lowered the phone and let her hand fall to her side, breathing in deep as she crossed the penthouse once more. The silence pressed against her like velvet too heavy to wear, and every polished surface in the room reflected her anger back at her. She was a woman alone with too many memories and too much pride.
She wasn’t truly alone anymore. Amicia was coming. Vivienne leaned against the grand piano, the cool lacquer beneath her palm grounding her for a moment. “She blinked,” she whispered to no one. “Like he was still hers.”
A brittle laugh escaped her lips before she caught it, clenched it down. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Her hand moved, snatching up the bottle of wine Fitz kept for rare occasions. It was cheap. Pathetic, really. She didn’t bother with a glass. She drank straight from the bottle like a girl who had nothing left to lose and everything to prove.
She kicked off her heels and crossed the room barefoot, silk swaying as she slid the doors open to the balcony. the night air rushed around her, kissed her collarbones, and tugged at her hair like an old friend begging her not to shatter.
She stared down at this strange American city’s beach, and her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Come quickly, Ami,” she murmured. “Because if that girl thinks the dragon’s sister won’t burn down an entire bloodline to keep it clean…”
Vivienne tilted her head, her blue eyes alight with the kind of cold that froze kings and seduced monsters. “She’s about to find out just how wrong she is.”
(Vivi wakes the next morning and goes down to the beach.)
She lowered the phone and let her hand fall to her side, breathing in deep as she crossed the penthouse once more. The silence pressed against her like velvet too heavy to wear, and every polished surface in the room reflected her anger back at her. She was a woman alone with too many memories and too much pride.
She wasn’t truly alone anymore. Amicia was coming. Vivienne leaned against the grand piano, the cool lacquer beneath her palm grounding her for a moment. “She blinked,” she whispered to no one. “Like he was still hers.”
A brittle laugh escaped her lips before she caught it, clenched it down. “We’ll see how long that lasts.”
Her hand moved, snatching up the bottle of wine Fitz kept for rare occasions. It was cheap. Pathetic, really. She didn’t bother with a glass. She drank straight from the bottle like a girl who had nothing left to lose and everything to prove.
She kicked off her heels and crossed the room barefoot, silk swaying as she slid the doors open to the balcony. the night air rushed around her, kissed her collarbones, and tugged at her hair like an old friend begging her not to shatter.
She stared down at this strange American city’s beach, and her lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Come quickly, Ami,” she murmured. “Because if that girl thinks the dragon’s sister won’t burn down an entire bloodline to keep it clean…”
Vivienne tilted her head, her blue eyes alight with the kind of cold that froze kings and seduced monsters. “She’s about to find out just how wrong she is.”
(Vivi wakes the next morning and goes down to the beach.)
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