I leaned back in my chair, didn't touch the file again, didn't reach for that glass of cooled whiskey. Outside, the night lights on the Potomac cast faint halos on the glass, flickering like something unclear floating on the water's surface, refusing to sink.
I told myself that money was just a random impulse, contempt for the old man's and Derek's revolting logic, one trivial good deed for this rotting family. Nothing more. Nothing to do with that woman.
But the envelope was still on the desk.
I glanced at it. Looked away. Looked back.
I never did anything without purpose.
I reached out and shoved the file to the corner of the desk.
Chapter Four
Vivienne
Mia's voice cut through the coffee shop's background noise, drilling straight into my eardrums.
"Wait, wait, wait—" She set down her latte and pinched my wrist with two fingers. "You're telling me someone sent you a card?"
"Keep it down." I glanced around, making sure no one at the neighboring tables was eavesdropping, then lowered my voice again. "Yeah, yesterday morning. A man in a black suit was waiting for me downstairs. Said my 'ex-boyfriend's friend' asked him to deliver it. There's 'compensation' in the card."
"Compensation." Mia rolled the word around in her mouth, her expression cycling through several stages before landing somewhere between disbelief and about to explode. "Vivienne Cole, tell me you didn't take it."
I said nothing.
"You took it."
"I didn't deposit it—"
"But you didn't give the card back."
"Mia, my mom's medical bills are due next month. What's left in my account can't even—"
"I know, I know." She released my wrist and sighed, cradling her cup. "But Vivienne, this isn't about the money. Derek paying you off—it's like you're some waitress he hired, tossing you a tip to call it even. It's humiliating."
I stared at the table.
Every word she said, I understood. Understood so well she didn't even need to say it. The moment that card landed in my hands, I felt it—that cold, priced-out-from-head-to-toe feeling, the same texture as three years ago when Derek first critiqued me with that "you'd look better if you lost ten pounds" tone.
My mother's nursing home bill was due next week. The doctor said her nervous breakdown had worsened again. She needed a more expensive imported medication. I'd planned to use the money we'd saved for the wedding balance to cover it, but that wasn't even close to enough.
I really needed this money.
"I know it's insulting." I looked up, my throat dry, but I tried to sound lighter than I felt. "So I'm gonna spend it having the time of my life, then send back the empty card with a Post-it that says 'Thanks, worth every penny.'"
Mia went silent for two seconds, then reached over and rapped her knuckles against my forehead. "You idiot."
"Ow!"
"You deserve it." She pushed her latte toward me. "This money solves your immediate problem. You earned it. Consider it emotional damages." Mia made the decision with her usual decisiveness. "But the origin of this card is too weird. That Sasha guy is definitely not some legit errand boy. I'm getting fitted for tonight's charity gala dress later. I'll take the card, have my brother's people dig into where this money came from, make sure it's clean and won't bring you trouble. You good with that?"
I nodded, looking at her gratefully. "Thank you, Mia. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"Save the sentimentality. I'm the female lead for your future bestseller." Mia stood, straightening her haute couture coat, slipping onher sunglasses, resuming her full-force heiress persona. "Get your ass back to that trashy magazine. Don't let that greasy, balding editor catch you slipping again. And remember, whatever happens, you better call me after work tonight and check in."
"Yes, ma'am." I forced a smile and waved.
After watching Mia click away in her red-bottomed heels, I sat alone in the coffee shop for a while, draining what was left of my iced Americano. The bitter cold slid down my throat into my stomach, jolting my foggy brain completely awake.
