"…You really did it."
Damien didn't move for a moment. He just stood there, letting her lean against him. Then—quietly—he brought both arms up and wrapped them around her shoulders.
Vivienne stayed there for a moment longer, pressed against Damien's chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat. It felt strange—he felt strange. His body was no longer the soft warmth she once tucked under coats and blankets during winter strolls. This chest was solid now. Grounded. It carried weight—not just in muscle, but in presence.
She shut her eyes and breathed him in.
She wouldn't speak of this.
Not to her friends.
Not even to Dominic.
Because this moment wasn't for pride.
It was hers.
And though she had always loved Damien, always shielded him from the harsh expectations of the Elford name, deep down… there had been something unspoken. Something tucked away like a fragile hope in the back of her heart.
She wanted him to win.
