Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire

Vivian stood in the harsh fluorescent lighting of a CVS pharmacy on Beacon Hill. Her eyes were locked on the wall of brightly colored condom boxes.

Her phone buzzed in her coat pocket. The screen lit up with a text from Landon.

Get the brand I like. Don't waste time.

Two female Boston University students walked past the aisle. They glanced at Vivian, then at the shelf she was staring at, and whispered something to each other with smirks on their faces.

A violent wave of acid rose in Vivian's throat. She clenched her jaw, grabbed two boxes of the foil-wrapped condoms, and tossed them into her red plastic basket.

She walked to the checkout counter. The cashier popped her gum and dragged the boxes across the scanner. The sharp beep of the machine felt like a physical slap to Vivian's face.

She pulled out her personal credit card. Her hand shook so badly she missed the chip reader on the first try. The card had a pathetic limit, but she refused to use Landon's corporate card for this.

She walked out of the sliding glass doors. The crisp autumn wind of Boston whipped against her face. She pulled the lapels of her cheap trench coat tighter around her neck.

A black corporate Range Rover sat idling at the curb. Vivian walked over, pulled the heavy door open, and climbed into the driver's seat.

The moment she pressed the push-to-start button, her phone screen lit up on the passenger seat.

It was an encrypted email from a top-tier law firm. The sender was Alex Dunn, the Chief Executive Assistant to Julian Vance-Beaumont III.

Vivian tapped the screen. A fifty-page draft of a prenuptial and non-disclosure agreement loaded. The terms outlined in the first few paragraphs were brutally restrictive.

She didn't hesitate. She scrolled rapidly to the final page. She read the single clause that mattered: the absolute physical and legal protection provided upon her signature.

Landon's name flashed across her screen, overriding the document. The phone vibrated aggressively.

She answered.

"Bring the car to the penthouse lobby right now," Landon snapped, and hung up.

Vivian locked her phone. She shifted the car into drive and merged into the heavy afternoon traffic of downtown Boston.

Fifteen minutes later, she pulled up to the glass-fronted lobby of Landon's luxury apartment building. The uniformed doorman rushed forward to open the rear doors.

Whitney Astor-Kensington slid into the backseat. She wore a custom Chanel tweed suit. The overwhelming scent of her expensive floral perfume instantly filled the enclosed cabin.

Landon got in next to her. He reached over the center console, grabbed the CVS paper bag Vivian had placed there, and shoved it into the door compartment. He didn't even look at Vivian.

Whitney adjusted her posture and caught Vivian's eyes in the rearview mirror.

"You really are such a handy driver, Vivian," Whitney said. Her voice was dripping with sweet, condescending poison.

Vivian gripped the leather steering wheel. She dug her fingernails so deeply into her palms that the skin nearly broke.

"Thank you," Vivian replied mechanically.

She put the car in gear and headed toward Logan International Airport.

The back of the car was not silent. Low, intimate whispers and the soft sounds of Landon and Whitney kissing drifted to the front seat.

Every soft sigh from Whitney, every low chuckle from Landon, felt like a serrated blade sawing through the last remnants of Vivian's foolish, four-year loyalty.

She hit a red light. She pressed the brake pedal and instinctively glanced at the rearview mirror.

Landon had his hand tangled in Whitney's blonde hair. He was kissing the side of her neck.

Vivian violently jerked her eyes back to the road. Her stomach cramped. She wanted to claw her way out of her own skin.

They finally reached the private aviation terminal at Logan. Vivian threw the car into park and jumped out. She walked to the trunk and hauled out their luggage.

The heavy, aluminum Rimowa suitcase slipped. The sharp metal corner scraped hard against the back of Vivian's hand, tearing the skin.

Landon didn't notice. He was busy shielding Whitney's skirt from the wind.

An airport ground crew member rushed over with a luggage cart. Landon put his hand on the small of Whitney's back and walked toward the security checkpoint. He didn't say a single word of goodbye to Vivian.

Vivian stood alone on the tarmac. She watched them walk up the stairs of the Gulfstream jet emblazoned with the Mercer Capital logo.

The deafening roar of the jet engines vibrated in her chest. She turned around. The freezing wind dried the cold sweat on her forehead.

She got back into the empty, silent SUV. She pulled out her phone with her bleeding hand.

She opened the email from Alex Dunn and hit reply.

I accept the agreement. We can meet tonight.