Vivian POV
I sat on the floor, back against the locked door, Bella's pink hair clip digging into my palm. The party's music had faded to a hum, the laughter now sporadic. Hours had passed since I'd shattered the tray, since Bella, alive, hostile, had walked in with Evans. My sister, who I'd mourned for ten years, was here, and I was trapped in this room, no closer to answers. I banged the door again, my knuckles stinging. "Hello? Clara? Nate? Anyone?"
Silence. I stood, pacing, the silver pen I'd meant for Evans glinting on the desk. What a joke, I'd planned to confess my love, and now he was parading my sister as his lover. My chest burned, anger mixing with confusion. I needed to confront Bella, to know why she hated me, where she'd been.
"Let me out!" I shouted, pounding the door harder. "This isn't funny anymore!"
The lock clicked, and I spun around, heart leaping. "Finally!" I yanked the door open, expecting Evans or Bella. Instead, Nate stood there, his face grim, hands stuffed in his pockets.
"Nate, where's Bella?" I demanded, stepping toward him. "I need to talk to her."
He held up a hand, stopping me. "They're gone, Vivian. Evans and Bella left for the airport right after the party."
"What?" My voice cracked. "Gone where?"
"Out of the country," he said, his tone flat. "Business trip. That's all I know."
"Business trip?" I laughed, bitter and sharp. "My sister shows up alive, and they just leave? Without a word?"
"I'm sorry," he said, shifting uncomfortably. "Evans said it was urgent. He'll be back in a few days."
"Did he say anything about me?" I asked, desperation creeping into my voice. "Did he mention what happened at the party?"
Nate looked away. "He was... distracted. They were in a hurry."
"A few days?" I shouted, my hands balling into fists. "I've been locked in here, Nate! She's my sister, she was dead! And Evans, " I stopped, my throat tightening. "He knew I'd want to see her."
"I get it," he said, his voice low. "But I don't have answers. I'm just the messenger."
I turned away, grabbing Bella's clip from the floor. "Some messenger," I muttered. "What am I supposed to do now? Sit here like a good little prisoner?"
"Look, I unlocked the door," he said. "You're not a prisoner. Just… give it time."
"Time?" I spun back, glaring. "Ten years wasn't enough?"
"Evans will explain everything when he gets back," Nate said, running a hand through his hair. "He always does."
"Always does what? Lie? Keep secrets?" I stepped closer, searching his face. "What aren't you telling me, Nate?"
He didn't answer, just looked at me like I was a bomb about to go off. I wanted to scream, to demand he call Evans, but what was the point? They were gone, and I was stuck in this house, no job, no money, no way out.
"Forget it," I said, shoving past him. "I'm done waiting."
"Vivian, hold on, " he started, reaching for my arm.
I jerked away. "Don't touch me! You're all the same, liars, every one of you."
"That's not fair," he argued. "I'm trying to help."
"Then tell me the truth! Where did they really go? What's going on between Evans and my sister?"
Nate's jaw tightened. "I can't tell you what I don't know."
"Convenient," I snapped, then slammed the door, the sound echoing down the hall. My shoes, still damp from the champagne, squeaked as I stormed downstairs, Bella's clip and the pen in my pocket, my bag slung over my shoulder. The foyer was quiet, littered with empty glasses and crumpled napkins. The party was over, and so was my patience.
"Going somewhere?" Madeline's voice stopped me cold. She stood by the staircase, a glass of wine in hand, her silver gown swapped for a silk robe.
"Out," I snapped, not slowing. "Unless you're locking me up again."
She stepped into my path, her smile icy. "After your little performance tonight, I should. Dropping trays, making a scene, do you know how many guests were talking about you?"
"Let them talk," I said, my voice shaking. "I saw my sister, Madeline. Alive. You think I care about your guests?"
"Your sister," she said, her tone mocking. "A convenient excuse for bad behavior. Stay out of trouble, Vivian, or you'll be out of this house."
"You knew, didn't you?" I accused. "You knew Bella was alive this whole time."
Madeline's smile faltered. "Don't be absurd. I only met her tonight, same as everyone else."
"Liar," I hissed. "She's Evans' girlfriend, you must have known."
"Watch your tone," she warned, stepping closer. "Remember who put a roof over your head when no one else would."
"Good," I shot back, brushing past her. "Maybe I don't want to stay."
Her laugh followed me. "With what money? You're penniless. Don't be foolish."
I froze, her words hitting like a slap. "I'd rather be broke than trapped in your twisted games."
"Games?" She arched an eyebrow. "Darling, this is life. You're lucky to be part of it."
"Lucky?" I laughed. "My sister faked her death for a decade, and now she's sleeping with the man I, " I caught myself.
"The man you what?" Madeline's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Vivian. You didn't think Evans actually cared for you, did you? How adorable."
I felt heat rise to my face. "Go to hell, Madeline."
She was right, no job, no savings, nowhere to go. But I couldn't stay here, not with Bella's face haunting me, not with Evans' betrayal. I pushed through the front door, the night air biting my skin.
"You'll be back!" she called after me. "You always come crawling back!"
The street was quiet, the mansion's lights fading behind me. I walked, my legs moving on autopilot, until I reached a dive bar a few blocks away, the kind of place I'd worked, not partied. The neon sign buzzed, and I shoved inside, the smell of beer and smoke hitting me hard.
I slid onto a stool, tossing my last ten bucks on the counter. "Whiskey, neat," I told the bartender, a guy with a beard and tired eyes.
He poured, sliding the glass over. "Rough night?"
"You have no idea," I muttered, downing half the drink. The burn felt good, dulling the edges of Bella's glare, Evans' absence. I pulled out her clip, turning it over in my hands. Why hadn't she come back? Why did she hate me?
"Make it a double next time," I said, pushing the empty glass toward him.
He nodded, refilling it. "Want to talk about it? I'm a good listener."
"What's to talk about?" I sighed. "My dead sister isn't dead, my boss is sleeping with her, and I just walked out on the only home I have."
"Sounds like a soap opera," he remarked, wiping the counter.
"Feels like a nightmare," I muttered.
"Hey, you okay?" Clara's voice made me jump. She stood behind me, still in her server's uniform, a worried frown on her face.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, tucking the clip away.
"Saw you storm out," she said, sliding onto the stool beside me. "Figured you'd end up somewhere like this. What's the plan, Vivian?"
"No plan," I admitted, swirling my drink. "Bella's gone, Evans too. I want out of that house, but…" I trailed off, Madeline's words echoing. Penniless.
"But you're stuck," Clara finished, nodding. "Been there. Look, crash with me if you need to. My place is tiny, but it's better than Madeline's cage."
"You'd do that for me?" I asked, surprised. "After everything that happened tonight?"
"That's what friends are for," she shrugged. "Besides, I want to hear the full story about your sister. That was wild."
"Thanks," I said, managing a small smile. "I'll think about it."
She squeezed my arm. "I gotta get home, but call me, okay? Don't do anything stupid."
"Too late for that," I said, but she was already heading out.
I ordered another whiskey, my mind churning. Move out? With what? Stay and face Bella's hate? I was trapped, and the alcohol wasn't helping. I slammed the glass down, ready to leave, when a voice stopped me.
"Vivian? Vivian Grants?"
I turned, squinting at the man leaning against the bar. Tall, sandy hair, familiar eyes that made my heart stutter. "Daniel?" I said, my voice barely a whisper. "Daniel Pierce?"
He grinned, the same lopsided smile from childhood, when we'd raced bikes and snuck cookies. "Yeah, it's me. What the hell are you doing in a place like this?"
"I could ask you the same thing," I replied, suddenly conscious of my disheveled appearance. "Last I heard, you were in London."
"Got back last month," he said, sliding onto the stool next to mine. "Family business." He studied my face. "You look... different."
"Ten years will do that," I said dryly. "So will seeing a ghost."
"Ghost?" He frowned. "What are you talking about?"
I hesitated, then shook my head. "Nothing. Just a really bad night."
"Bad enough to drink alone?" he asked, gesturing to the bartender. "Two more, please."
"You don't have to, "
"Consider it catching up," he insisted. "Unless you've got somewhere to be?"
I thought of Madeline's mansion, of empty rooms and unanswered questions. "No," I said finally. "No place at all."