Chapter 10: The Gathering She Planned
Vivien was waiting in the front sitting room when I arrived. She wore the same composed smile she used at dinner, as though the only surprise in her evening had been my tardiness.
Rocco stood near the hall, phone in hand. He didn’t approach her.
“Where’s Elena?” Vivien asked.
“She’s with Mia,” I said. “Why do you want her?”
Vivien’s gaze flicked toward Rocco, then returned to me.
“I need to speak with her. Privately.”
“Has she agreed to that?”
A thin crease appeared between Vivien’s brows.
“She works here, Lorenzo. I don’t need your permission to have a conversation with the staff.”
“No. But she gets to decide whether she has it.”
The smile came back, sharper at the edges.
“You’ve changed.”
“I’m asking a simple question. Has she agreed?”
Vivien set her handbag on the chair beside her, careful and unhurried.
“Go find her and ask.”
I turned to Rocco.
“Please let Elena know Vivien is here and wants to speak with her. Tell her she can say no. Don’t bring her here unless she chooses to come.”
Rocco nodded and left the room.
Vivien watched him go.
“Is this what I’m marrying into now? A household where everyone needs your permission to speak?”
“It’s a household where no one gets summoned into a private room against their wishes.”
“I’m not threatening her.”
“You don’t get to decide what she feels.”
For a moment, her expression lost its polish. Then she picked up her bag and smoothed a hand over its clasp.
“I came to ask her a question. That’s all.”
The front desk had told us Vivien had arrived asking for Elena. The driver’s message had shown that she had also summoned him alone to discuss his loyalty. I knew the driver suspected she had learned about his meeting with counsel. I did not know what Vivien knew, or how she had found out. The difference mattered.
A minute later, Rocco returned alone.
“Elena says she doesn’t want to speak with Miss Russo tonight,” he said. “She asked me to tell you herself.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Vivien’s jaw tightened.
“She won’t even look at me?”
“She made her choice.”
“And you’re proud of this?” she asked me. “Teaching people to defy me?”
“No one needs a lesson in refusing a conversation.”
Her eyes narrowed.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
“Then we agree on one thing.”
She held my gaze for a beat, searching for the man she expected: the one who could end an argument by making everyone afraid to continue it.
I felt the old impulse rise—the simple, ugly satisfaction of ordering her out and letting fear do the work. I kept my hands at my sides.
“You can leave tonight,” I said. “Or stay for the gathering you planned tomorrow. But Elena won’t be required to meet with you, and no one will be questioned about the investigation.”
Vivien’s face softened into something almost pitying.
“You think this is about an investigation?”
“I think it’s about what you choose to do next.”
She picked up her handbag.
“Tomorrow, then.”
She walked out without another word. I watched the front doors close behind her, then asked Rocco to stay nearby without blocking anyone’s path. I did not send for Elena. If she wanted to talk to me, she knew where I would be.
The next evening, Vivien’s gathering filled the mansion’s main salon with the low murmur of relatives and family friends. She had invited them despite my earlier warning not to invite anyone. A few had already heard that Isabella was “delighted” about the wedding. Vivien made sure the rest heard it from her.
“My future mother-in-law has been so generous,” she said, raising a glass. “She’s told me how happy she is to welcome me into the family.”
I stood beside Isabella’s wheelchair. My mother had chosen to attend and had asked that I not answer on her behalf. I had promised.
Vivien’s gaze swept the room. She knew how to make a claim sound like a kindness, especially when a room full of people was listening.
“I know this has been a difficult year for all of us,” she continued. “But I believe Lorenzo and I are bringing the family something to celebrate.”
Someone near the windows lifted a glass. Others followed.
Isabella’s fingers pressed against the wooden armrest. I saw the familiar tremor, but I didn’t reach for her hand. She had asked to speak for herself.
Vivien looked toward her.
“Isabella, won’t you say something?”
My mother raised her eyes.
“I’ll say something.”
The room quieted. Vivien’s smile held, though her fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.
“I did not tell Vivien I was happy about the wedding,” Isabella said. “I did not tell her I approved.”
A soft rustle moved through the guests. One person lowered their glass.
Vivien stepped toward her.
“Isabella, you’re tired. You don’t need to put yourself through this.”
“I’m not tired.”
“You’ve had a difficult few months. Sometimes things get muddled.”
My mother’s chin lifted.
“I know what I said.”
No one moved. The warmth Vivien had arranged in the room drained away, leaving only the polished furniture and the people who had come expecting a toast.
Vivien turned to the guests with a small, regretful smile.
“I’m sorry. She’s been under a great deal of stress.”
“She was under stress when you asked her to say she approved,” I said.
Vivien looked at me.
“You’re putting words in her mouth now?”
“No. She’s speaking for herself.”
A flash of anger broke through her calm.
“Of course you’d say that. You’ve been filling her head with suspicions because you’re looking for an excuse to escape this marriage.”
I could have answered for myself. I didn’t. Isabella had not finished.
“No one told me what to say,” she said. “I was pressured, and I kept quiet because I was afraid of what speaking would do.”
Vivien gave a short, disbelieving laugh.
“Afraid of me?”
My mother’s hands trembled against the armrests.
“Afraid of what your son might do if I upset him.”
The words struck harder than I expected. There it was, in front of the people I knew and the people who knew my name: my reputation had not protected her. It had given Vivien another way to frighten her.
I lowered my voice.
“You don’t have to defend me, Mama.”
“I’m not,” she replied. “I’m telling them why I stayed quiet.”
Vivien glanced around the room, measuring the faces. Then she settled on Elena, who stood near the doorway. Elena had chosen to come after I told her she could refuse. Mia was with the guard Elena recognized, in the garden room; she had not been asked to attend.
“You brought your maid as a witness?” Vivien asked.
“I came because Isabella shouldn’t have to stand alone,” Elena said.
“You don’t know what she was told. You’ve made a career out of being useful to whoever pays you.”
Elena’s face tightened, but her voice stayed even.
“I heard you ask me to tell Lorenzo that Isabella approved of the marriage. I heard you threaten my job when I said I wouldn’t lie.”
Vivien’s eyes narrowed.
“You’re accusing me in front of my family?”
“I’m telling them what I heard.”
“You’re twisting a private conversation because you’ve been encouraged to do it.”
Elena did not look at me. She didn’t need to.
“I’m not adding anything. I heard what I heard.”
Vivien set her glass down on a side table. It made a quiet click against the wood.
“Be careful, Elena. You have no idea what a public accusation can do to your credibility.”
“I know what a lie can do,” Elena said.
A relative near the fireplace shifted uncomfortably. Another stared at the floor. No one rushed to Vivien’s side.
She turned to me, her voice soft enough that it might have passed for hurt.
“You’re letting them humiliate me.”
“I’m letting them speak.”
“And when they’re finished?”
“I’ll decide what I do about our engagement. Not in the middle of this room.”
For the first time, Vivien looked uncertain. It lasted only a breath. She took her handbag and faced the guests again.
“I’m sorry this evening was spoiled,” she said. “Some people will say anything when they’re afraid of consequences.”
Her gaze settled on Elena.
May you like
“Tomorrow, I’ll make sure everyone understands exactly who is telling the truth here.”
Then she walked out, leaving the guests silent behind her.
