"Enough!"
I shoved Vivian's hands away, stood up fast, putting distance between us and the bed. I turned back to see her kneeling on the mattress, legs spread, blazer hanging open, face flushed nearly purple, but with a flash of sober embarrassment in her expression.
The exhaustion at the bottom of my soul turned to complete irritation. I'd thought Vivian was just doing her job—she was a meticulous assistant after all. But her overstepping revealed ulterior motives. This forced demand felt like a violation.
"Get out." I kept my voice low, just wanting her gone so I could rest. I could pretend this never happened.
"No—"
The word seemed to wound and humiliate Vivian. The color drained from her face instantly.
"Lucas..." Tears welled in her eyes. "You can't lose yourself over an arranged marriage..."
"I made vows at my wedding." I strode to the door, yanked it open, voice hard. "I'll be faithful to my wife. I mean what I say."
"That was just formality!" Vivian's composure was finally shattered. She raised her voice, pissing me off more. I should be grateful this happened at night with no one else in the office, or I'd have fired her on the spot if anyone heard.
Vivian kept babbling. "Arranged marriages aren't love! You and Ella have nothing between you..."
I stared at Vivian, suddenly wondering if she'd lost her mind. She seemed to be trying to salvage her dignity as a rejected woman by convincing me.
"If I didn't love Ella," I lowered my voice but enunciated clearly, "why the hell would I have married her?"
Vivian froze, like the words had hit her in the face. She gaped at me, disbelief written across her features. "You love her?"
The tone—like I'd told the world's biggest joke.
I tamped down rising irritation. To prevent this from happening again, I forced myself to explain. "If it wasn't love, why would I agree to the marriage? The Rockefeller heir—what kind of match couldn't I find? If I really didn't want it, how could Grandfather possibly force me?"
"But—" In her agitation, Vivian blurted out, "Everyone says you're not right for each other..."
The second it left her mouth, her face changed. She realized she'd said the wrong thing.
I froze.
What the hell did she mean 'everyone says'?
My voice turned cold. "Who told you that?"
Vivian bit her lip. No answer.
Confusion hit me hard. Why would Vivian think this? I'd entrusted Ella with my assets, my grandfather, even the responsibility of raising future children—that was a carefully considered decision. And two years of marriage had only confirmed I'd made the right call. Ella's calm, steady nature, like a quietly growing plant, was my only anchor in this circus of fame and fortune. And now Vivian, an outsider, had the audacity to tell me I wasn't compatible with my own wife?
"Listen, Vivian." I took a deep breath, trying to keep my voice from going ice-cold. "This is my fault. I should have stopped you from getting close. I carried over some habits from our student days. Didn't maintain proper boundaries. Tomorrow I'll have someone delete your facial recognition from the lounge access system. From now on, without my permission, stay away from the private lounge."
Vivian looked slapped. Disbelief flashed across her face, like only now realizing I was serious. She opened her mouth, seemed to want to say something, but ultimately said nothing.
She ran.
I slammed the door hard. The anger in my chest kept burning. If even Vivian had this warped perception, what about others?
The thought made my chest sink. I suddenly remembered what Grandfather said three days ago. "Lucas, you're married. You shouldn't be putting your energy into other women."
So it wasn't just one person.
If even my grandfather who raised me, and my assistant who worked alongside me, both misjudged my feelings for my wife...
What about Ella?
