He Came Back, But I Was Gone Forever

Vivienne’s POV

The instant I stepped into the room, having shoved the door open with more force than necessary, I froze where I stood. My body reacted before my mind did—heart thundering, breath caught, every nerve in me going rigid as if bracing for an impact. Dominic didn’t bother to hide the photograph in his hand, the picture of Cassandra held with a reverence that twisted something deep inside me. His other hand was busy with something I wished I hadn’t seen, yet couldn’t tear my eyes from.

The evidence of his desire was unmistakable.

He didn’t flinch when he realized I was standing there, witnessing the entire thing. He didn’t stumble, didn’t stutter, didn’t even look startled. Instead, he calmly slipped the photo behind his back, rose to his full height with his usual controlled elegance, and met my gaze with that same detached professionalism he had always worn around me.

As though I had not just caught him lost in intimate fantasies of another woman—my father’s precious second daughter.

A part of me wanted to scream, to strike him, to demand an explanation. But the rage hollowing my chest formed into something colder instead. I smiled.

A slow, poisonous smile.

“Need a hand?” My voice came out honey-sweet, but sharpened at the edges with bitterness I didn’t bother to hide.

His expression didn’t shift. No shame. No discomfort. Not even the courtesy of guilt. “That won’t be necessary, Miss Vivienne,” he replied coolly. “This is a private matter.”

Of course he still addressed me formally. As if we hadn’t grown up in the same household. As if I hadn’t trusted him with my safety, my secrets, my affection—affection I once believed he returned. But Cassandra, with her angelic smile and carefully polished innocence, had undone all of that with effortless grace. He had chosen her, silently and decisively, without ever letting me know I was competing.

I turned and walked away, my throat tightening with pride and fury, refusing to let myself break. I was done with the pathetic chase I had allowed myself to endure.

If the world wanted Cassandra to be its sweet little darling, then I could become whatever poison thrived beneath that façade.

Behind me, he finally spoke. “Why are you here?”

I glanced back over my shoulder, smirk tugging at my lips. “Nothing important,” I lied smoothly. “Just wanted to tell you to escort me to the fashion gala tomorrow. Cassandra will be attending.”

The slightest twitch in his expression—barely noticeable to anyone else—gave him away. Her name alone anchored him.

He didn’t even try to hide it.

---

The following evening, he waited at the bottom of the staircase, impeccably dressed in a sharp black suit trimmed with subtle silver accents, hair pristine, demeanor unreadable. I walked past him without acknowledgment for the first time in years, and though he hid it well, a brief flicker of surprise crossed his face. I saw it. I always did.

The drive to the gala was suffocatingly quiet. The silence between us felt thick, stretched, filled with unspoken things I no longer had the energy to voice. I kept my expression serene, refusing to grant him even a glimpse of the storm he had caused.

When we arrived at the Limited Edition Fashion Gala, eyes turned instantly. Whispers followed in waves—some curious, others speculative. I entered not simply as Vivienne Ardent, daughter of a wealthy political family, but as a woman soon to be formally linked to the Vale family, one of the most influential dynasties in the country. Even though Lucian Vale remained unconscious in a hospital suite due to the mysterious poisoning months ago, the engagement was already sealed by both families.

Tonight, I walked as his future wife.

Then she arrived.

Cassandra floated into the hall draped in a pale silver gown, every step designed to capture attention. Her lips were painted a delicate cherry red, her smile practiced to perfection. She approached me with her sugary laugh.

“Hello, sister,” she chimed.

I faced her with ice instead of warmth. “Don’t address me that way.”

Behind me, I felt Dominic stiffen, his posture shifting ever so slightly as she looked at him. His features gentled—subtle, but unmistakable. And when she smiled back at him, my stomach twisted. The entire room seemed to blur around her.

That’s when I saw it.

A breathtaking gown displayed on a raised pedestal—a seamless blend of midnight blue and pale silver, the beading shimmering like stardust. It was the kind of piece that transformed a woman into a story. And I knew instantly it was the dress I wanted for my first official appearance as Lucian Vale’s fiancée.

“I’ll take this one,” I told the designer.

Her face brightened. “A popular choice. Many have tried to purchase it. Offers in gold, antiques, even heirloom jewels.”

“I’ll pay double in gold.”

Before the transaction could be sealed, Cassandra stepped forward and grazed the sleeve with her fingertips. “Oh, what a gorgeous dress,” she murmured. “I’m thinking of trying it on.”

I stiffened. “It’s already mine.”

She tilted her head, a saccharine smile in place. “Surely the designer won’t object to a little competition.”

Before I could speak, a man approached—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in charcoal-black with the kind of quiet authority that commanded the room. He glanced toward Dominic briefly, as though acknowledging him, before addressing the designer.

“We’ll buy the gown,” he said. “Name your price.”

“And you are?” the designer asked, startled.

“Reid,” he replied smoothly. “Acting representative of the Silvana Organization. Our director has instructed us to acquire anything Miss Cassandra Ardent desires tonight. Cost is irrelevant.”

A hush fell over the room.

“Silvana?”

“Why her?”

“Is she involved with them?”

Cassandra blinked innocently. “I’ve never even met him,” she murmured, false modesty dripping from her voice.

She turned to me with wide, delighted eyes. “Will you still try to get it? I’d hate to see you overspend.”

I dug my nails into my palm.

Dominic didn’t even look my way. His gaze remained fixed on her.

What happened next was a spectacle: dress after dress, accessory after accessory, designer after designer—each time Cassandra attended to something she liked, Beta Reid stepped in and purchased it immediately, without hesitation.

I watched silently, my chest tightening with each transaction.

Finally, I asked him, “Does your director intend to leave anything for anyone else tonight?”

He glanced at Dominic again, subtle but clear. “Our director only cares about Miss Cassandra’s happiness. The rest of you are… insignificant.”

The words struck harder than I expected.

Dominic practically glowed whenever she looked at him, while I forced myself not to react.

By the end of the night, Cassandra was surrounded by admirers and stylists, arms full of luxury.

I slipped away quietly, stepping into the city’s chill night air.

“Bloodmoon Lounge,” I told the driver. “Take me there.”

I needed the burn of alcohol, the distraction of music, something to drown out the ache.

Before the car could move, Cassandra suddenly opened the door and slid into the seat next to me, grinning like a child. “You’re going out? Perfect! I’m coming too.”

I nearly shoved her back outside, but Dominic arrived and held the door open.

“Drive,” he instructed calmly.

The car pulled away, and Cassandra began chattering. “Isn’t it strange? The head of Silvana being so interested in me? I’ve never met him, but they say he’s unbelievably handsome.”

Dominic chuckled under his breath. “He probably just has good taste,” he said. “You are… someone special.”

Then she asked him the question I wished she wouldn’t.

“Do you like me too, Dominic?”

He hesitated, but I sensed the answer forming—felt it like a knife pressing into my skin.

Before he could speak, I cut in sharply, “If the two of you want to flirt, do it outside my car. This is my ride.”

Cassandra winced. “Sorry… I didn’t mean—”

I turned away, looking out the window.

In the reflection, I saw Dominic glance at her—soft, warm, almost tender.

Then his gaze shifted to me.

Hard. Cold. Dismissive.

I smiled faintly, the bitterness rising like smoke.

So this was what men loved: sweetness, fragility, little sighs and gentle smiles.

Everything I was never allowed to be.