The air around the Omak coast tasted of salt and unbridled power. A string of emerald islands sat like jewels on a velvet cloth, owned almost exclusively by the Beckfords—the kind of people who didn't just own land, they owned horizons. The water surrounding one specific island, "The Hideout," was closely monitored by private security, ensuring no intruders or unwanted eyes ever got close enough to see the glass-and-steel villa located at the center of the private sanctuary.
From the deck of the Dark Knight, Vivian leaned against the mahogany railing. The wind felt nice against her warm skin, carrying the scent of charcoal and grilled meat. They were entering on the back side of the island to dock.
"You own a yacht called Dark Knight?" Brennan was floored by this level of luxury and wealth. Not that he couldn't afford a yacht himself, but it was a major investment. "I didn't assume game night meant we needed to get on a yacht and leave the country!" He felt like he didn't really know anything about her—like she was a magical creature he was just starting to glimpse.
This was one of the reasons Vivian didn't like bringing her "poor" friends around her wealthy ones; the financial access could be overwhelming. "It's not my boat!" The only reason she was borrowing the vessel was because one of the others had stolen her helicopter to get to the island tonight.
"Boat? Vivian, there are no paddles. Because this is a yacht. I have a kayak I was proud of until ten minutes ago," Brennan laughed, pushing his dirty blonde hair back, marveling at the unexpected.
As they neared the shore, the scent of rich, buttery Wagyu searing over an open fire settled into their noses. The private chef focused on the open flame, rhythmically turning skewers with silver tongs while the fat dripped onto the coals to create tiny, fragrant plumes of smoke. The chef was desperate to snap a selfie with the giant helicopter or the massive yacht, but he knew he would be sued into oblivion; the NDA he had signed would leave him permanently broke and likely in prison. It would have to live only in his memories.
The sleek silhouette of the stationary helicopter rested on the helipad, its rotors still, catching the moonlight like a sleeping dragonfly. Greg Mullet leaned against the metal beast, suddenly straightening as he saw the yacht carrying Miss Vivian approach the dock. He watched as she was allowed to disembark, the crew bowing respectfully to their departing guests. Out of habit, Greg pulled out his phone, zooming in on the unknown man to take a photo, sending it off to the Kane family office for its normal security checks.
The villa was swallowed by the ink-black expanse of the surrounding waters, which rippled gently under a star-studded sky. The steady pulse of upbeat music drifted from the house, mingling with the salt air. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, guests could be seen laughing and gesturing animatedly, while servers in crisp uniforms darted between rooms with overflowing platters.
The moment their feet landed on the wooden planks of the dock, the back doors of the villa swung open. A group of Vivian's friends spilled out like champagne from a bottle.
"You're finally here!" Koda shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth. He had a slender build, beautiful brown skin, and a bright, playful smile. He held a crystal glass filled to the brim with something that looked suspiciously like bourbon.
"What took you so long?" Darla yelled over the music, waving a drink in the air with a wide grin.
"Oh my fucking God!" Darla shouted as she laid eyes on Brennan Silver. The music seemed to dampen under her volume, and every eye in the room shifted to her. Her outburst drew a heavy, judgmental silence toward the stranger at Vivian's side. The Brennan Silver, she thought, her pulse racing. The man of her dreams. The living representation of her soulmate.
Mimi stood beside Darla, waving at Vivian but refusing to shout like an unruly soccer fan. With her short black pixie cut, black glasses, and tall, thin frame, she remained dignified. She knew their parents had spies everywhere.
Vivian's face lit with a radiant smile as she waved back. She wrapped her arms around Mimi, giving her a big hug. "I missed the hell out of you," she told her. Koda ushered them inside, pulling Vivian into a quick hug as he guided her into the party.
"Who's he?" The suspicion was thick as Gigi stared him down. A blonde Barbie doll with pretty blue eyes, she had her fur coat wrapped loosely around her shoulders. *We don't see you for a year, and you come back with a pretty charity case,* she thought, eyeing the handsome but obviously poor man from head to toe.
"Drop your pitchforks," Vivian said, holding her hands up to the room. Even the catering staff setting down food on the tables seemed too tense as they stared at Brennan. "This is Brennan, my friend. We were hanging out when you guys started spamming me, so I brought him along."
"I love you," Darla said, her voice far calmer now as she stepped into Brennan's personal space, patting her hair to make sure every strand was in place. "I'm Darla Polar. I'm such a fan."
Brennan was taken aback by the "welcome." Darla was intense, and everyone else seemed skeptical at best. "Thank you... so kind of you to say," he said. In the back of his mind, he thought some of them might fawn over him, but not to this degree. The way she kept staring at him without blinking was a bit unnerving.
Vivian started to back away from Brennan, giving him a quick thumbs up to check if he was okay. He nodded, allowing her to go off and speak with her friends. A waiter appeared instantly at her side; he didn't ask what she wanted, he simply held out a tray with a fresh mojito, knowing it was her preferred drink for the island.
"Thank you," she said. As her eyes drifted around the villa, she noticed that the Westbrooks were here—Natalia with her husband, Harrison Dufort, and even her brother, Gunner.
"Shush, shush!" Mimi said quietly as she noticed Natalia and Harrison coming their way. She wanted to stop Vivian from possibly pissing off the Dragon Lady.
"Here comes the queen bee!" Koda laughed, shaking his empty glass for a server to bring him a new one.
Natalia moved with a polished, lethal grace, her irritation bubbling. Sensing the dark mood of his wife, Harrison detached himself, allowing her to rage on her own. He wasn't interested in her ire and knew she didn't need his help, so he moved to save Brennan from being dissected by Darla.
"I know exactly who you are," Brennan said, shaking Harrison's hand eagerly. "Three-time gold Olympic swimming champion Harrison Dufort. I am beyond honored to meet you."
The two men easily fell into conversation. It wasn't lost on the group that the two people considered the most impoverished in the room seemed to get along like a house on fire, only reaffirming what they all already believed: that status and wealth came with different talking points.
Koda quickly slid off the couch, smiling deviously as he left the girls to squabble. He went back to Gunner and Ming at the poker table to play a round of cards. Gunner's eyes were downcast as he stared at his hand, but through the corner of his eye, he was watching Vivian and his sister closely. He wondered if there was bad blood between them.
"Could I ask a favor?" Natalia asked, her arms crossed as she stared down at Vivian. "Back off Brennan Silver."
Vivian remembered distinctly why she didn't meld well with Natalia. She was so proud and pompous, always talking down to her. She reminded Vivian of her mother, Charlotte; they were both so polished and perfect. Even now, in her pastel pink cocktail dress, there wasn't a stitch out of place. Her beautiful, bright brown eyes glared daggers.
"Maybe you should try again. That didn't sound like a friendly favor," Gigi spoke up. She barely tolerated Vivian, but she felt the family status was being tarnished by Natalia's tone buzzing in her ears.
"My company is acquiring his management rights," Natalia clarified. "It would be a help if he wasn't seen publicly with you until the deal is signed."
Gigi stood up as Himari entered the room. "Now that sounds like you were raised with manners, Westbrook." Her smile was sickly sweet and just as venomous as Natalia's as she walked away.
"A constant delight," Natalia muttered, sauntering off to speak to Darla, beyond annoyed that Vivian hadn't even said a word.
"I see why you don't always come to these 'harmonious' occasions," Mimi hummed, as the two girls laughed freely.
"We need our own island. Just us, and cats, and food—" Vivian kept a straight face as they melted into the comfortable sofa.
"And art, nude models—" Mimi's hands moved with flourish.
"Now it's getting crowded. Models mean people," Vivian laughed, wishing Mimi was around more often. She took a slow breath, her gaze drifting briefly toward the dark expanse of the ocean. "Besides, people are like fine art—better to look at from a distance.
Everything looks worse up close." Vivian awkwardly cleared her throat and took a long, deliberate sip of her mojito, the ice clinking against the glass.
Mimi didn't laugh this time. She set her drink down and looked at Vivian with a sudden, piercing clarity. "When you say things like this... honestly, I worry about you."
"Me? I'm great. Just... you know. I'm fine." Vivian's words felt stuck. These last two years, she had been selfish, living day by day. No plan, no schedule, no studying. By the time she finished university, she was burnt out and so angry. Once the anger faded, she was alone with her thoughts, so she decided to keep busy—auditing classes, traveling to places she hadn't heard of. Anything but staying still.
Mimi leaned in, her voice softening. "There are very few people in this world who understand the pressure crushing all of us—you included." She gestured around the room. "And most of us are in this room. Talk to someone, V. Because I can't lose you..." Mimi let out a small, self-deprecating laugh, trying to break the heavy tension she'd just created. "You're like the only sane one here."
Vivian felt the sting behind her eyes and pulled Mimi into a hug, hiding her eyes as one traitorous tear fell. She locked eyes with Gunner Westbrook across the room. He didn't look away; he just nodded and gave her a sad smile. It felt like he was saying, *I get it.* But she knew better. Everyone knew the Westbrooks were the perfect, loving family that would support Gunner even if he told them he wanted to learn underwater basket weaving from a barefooted lesbian who called herself "bucket master."
Gunner's phone rang. Seeing it was his mother, he quickly answered as he made his way outside, worried about his son. "Hello Mom, is it Hunter? Is something wrong?"