POV: Marcus
The occult shop sits between a dry cleaner and a Vietnamese restaurant in a part of LA most people avoid after dark. No sign outside, just a red door with a symbol painted above it that most would mistake for graffiti. I've been here three times in the past month, each visit making me more certain that conventional methods won't keep Vivian under control.
The contract was supposed to be enough. Seven years, ironclad penalties, complete authority over her career and image. But contracts only work when people honor them, and Vivian keeps pushing boundaries, keeps gravitating toward Chase Sterling despite the financial consequences.
Legal control isn't sufficient. I need something deeper. Something that bypasses choice entirely.
