Chapter 2

Vivian had listed the villa for hundreds of thousands below the market price. It didn't take long before her inbox filled with messages from eager buyers. By the time she'd replied to them all, it was already late. Sleep wouldn't come, so she opened a women's app that had been trending lately. The moment she got in, one pushed post immediately caught her eye. "My boyfriend's getting married in two months. Today, he had sex with me while I was wearing his fiancee's wedding dress in a bridal boutique. It was amazing and thrilling." The comments were vicious, filled with curses and condemnation. Some even hoped the algorithm would push the post straight to the fiancee. Vivian's hand trembled. She tapped into the poster's profile. Scrolling quickly, she found the very first post. There was no caption, only a photo of two hands intertwined, fingers laced together. She recognized the tiny mole on the man's index finger and the ring on his ring finger. The post had been uploaded half a year ago, just a week after Logan had proposed to her. Vivian stared blankly at the matching ring on her own ring finger, nausea rising. In the next instant, she yanked it off, tossed it into the toilet, and flushed. Something so tainted didn't deserve to stay on her hand. Soon, another post appeared. This time, the tone wasn't smug. On the contrary, the tone was pleading. "Stop cursing at me. We already agreed. In one month, I'll return him to his fiancee, whole and untouched." The photo showed a man's back on a bed. That back was familiar enough to make Vivian's skin crawl. Whole and untouched? What a joke. Vivian let out a short, bitter laugh. For the first time, she understood why people laughed when words failed them. Logan didn't come home that night. Early the next morning, he called her. He didn't explain a thing. He merely instructed her to meet him at the bridal boutique. Vivian arrived at the bridal boutique a few minutes before Logan. Her wedding dress hung in the VIP showroom on the third floor, pristine and untouched, as if it had never been sullied. "Ms. Hartwell, Mr. Whitfield is on his way. Why don't we help you into the dress first? Then, when he arrives, he'll see how perfect you look," the attendant suggested gently. Yet, pity flickered in her eyes. Vivian's expression stayed cool. "No need." It made her sick. The words had barely left her lips when a familiar arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close. A clean, soapy scent filled her breath. "Why not, Vivi? Do you have any idea how long I've waited for today? Put it on for me, please." Vivian turned her head and looked at Logan. He appeared fresh and put together, nothing like a man who had supposedly worked all night. He hadn't come alone. Not far behind him stood a young woman in light blue jeans and a simple white shirt, her sweet smile making her look innocent and bright. Vivian's gaze slid past Logan and landed on the young woman, her eyes turning cold. Was this another little game they had set up for excitement? Logan noticed where she was looking. His arm tightened around her waist, though his expression remained casual. "She's an employee from one of our partners. She reminds me of you from years ago, so I thought you might like her and want to meet her." He lifted a hand and beckoned. The young woman jogged over eagerly and extended her hand. "Hi, Ms. Hartwell. I'm Sloane Mercer. I'm really happy to meet you." Vivian didn't take her hand. She drew her gaze back, not even looking at her as she spoke, her tone indifferent. "You're so pretty. I suppose a lot of men wouldn't mind a fleeting moment with you." Sloane's smile faltered, and her eyes grew damp with grievance. "Are you saying I'm the kind of woman who knows how to lure men in?" The hand at Vivian's waist suddenly pinched hard. Vivian glanced sideways and caught the displeasure in Logan's eyes. Only then did he loosen his grip slightly and lower his head to murmur near her ear. "If you're angry, take it out on me when we get home. She's thin-skinned. Don't embarrass her to her face." He straightened, still gentle. "Let's try the dress." The attendants snapped out of their shock and hurried to take the dress down. Vivian looked at Sloane again and saw the way her eyes lit up as she stared at the gown in the attendant's hands. A chill flickered through Vivian's gaze. "Do you like it?" "I like it," Sloane answered without hesitation. Then, she glanced carefully at Logan. When she caught the coolness in his eyes, she lowered her lashes and added softly, envy and caution tangled together. "I mean, I like it, but not every woman is as lucky as you, Ms. Hartwell, to wear the dress she loves and marry the man she loves." The disappointment in her face was impossible to miss. Vivian's eyes slid toward Logan, whose expression was unreadable. Then, she spoke to the attendant in an even tone. "I'm not feeling well today. I don't want to move around. She's about my size. Let her try it on for me." After what they had done in that fitting room, Vivian didn't even want the fabric brushing her skin. The thought of it made her feel contaminated. The attendants didn't dare move. They looked at Logan, cautious and unsure. Logan lowered his gaze to Vivian, his expression turning grim. Sloane, on the other hand, didn't hesitate. She stepped forward with that same sweet smile. "Sure. It's my pleasure to try on a wedding dress for you, Ms. Hartwell." She reached for the gown. The attendants froze. Unsure what to do, they could only look at Logan again. His dark eyes held a sharp, warning chill. Sloane bit her lip, suddenly flustered. Vivian lifted Logan's arm off her waist, walked to the nearby couch, and sat down. "Go on." Sloane smiled again, took the dress from the attendants, and disappeared behind the fitting-room curtain. Logan followed and sat beside Vivian, his brow drawn tight as if he were about to complain. Vivian lifted her eyes to him and gave a faint, unreadable smile. "Aren't you going in to help her?" The entire room went still. The attendants who had helped Logan and Sloane the day before nearly screamed. Thank God none of them had taken the day off, or they would have missed seeing this play out in person. Logan's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression wary. "Vivi, what are you talking about?" "Nothing." Vivian smiled lightly. "I just thought you'd be happy to." She turned her head and asked the attendant for a cup of coffee. A moment later, the fitting-room curtain was pulled back. Sloane stood in the center, shy and bashful, her smile sweet. The dress that had been made for Vivian looked as though it had been tailored for Sloane instead. Vivian turned her head and studied Logan's face, her smile cold and devoid of warmth. "Doesn't she look good?" Logan's face remained dark. He didn't look over. His voice was low and controlled. "Vivi, what are you doing?" Vivian didn't answer. She picked up the coffee and walked toward Sloane. As Vivian drew near, Sloane lifted a hand to cover her face, clearly expecting Vivian to throw the coffee at her. The scalding splash didn't hit her skin. Instead, a gasp rippled through the room. Sloane lowered her hand and looked down. A brown stain had spread across the expensive dress. The attendants rushed in with tissues, scrubbing in a panic, but the stain wouldn't come out. Vivian stared at Sloane without a flicker of emotion and let out a quiet, mocking laugh. "If something's already been stained so badly it can't be cleaned, how are you supposed to return it to me whole and untouched?" Sloane's face went pale. She stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do. Logan's brows drew together. He strode over, seized Vivian's wrist, and dragged her as if he meant to take her out. Vivian moved with the pull and swung her hand up. Her palm cracked across Logan's face. The sound was sharp, and the bridal boutique fell silent. She had used nearly all her strength. Her hand went numb from the impact. Logan turned his head back slowly, his face stormy, his eyes colder than the air around them. The attendants didn't dare look at him. Even Sloane barely dared to breathe. Ever since Whitfield Group had gained its footing in Baymoor, Logan hadn't taken a public slight, let alone a slap from a woman. Vivian met his gaze and felt her heart hammering. The difference in their strength was too great. If he hit back, she couldn't win. Logan's eyes dropped to her trembling lashes. He let out a slow breath, then slid an arm around her waist. "Do you feel better now?"