The rain battered against Alexander’s office window as he paced, his phone clutched in one hand and a photograph in the other. His voice was sharp as he barked into the receiver.
“Keep digging. I don’t care how much it costs—find me everything there is to know about Elena and Rafael Castellanos.”
“Sir,” the investigator on the other end hesitated, “we’ve already uncovered substantial links to Rafael’s network. If we push further, it could attract… unwanted attention.”
Alexander slammed the photograph onto his desk, his jaw clenched. It was one of Rafael shaking hands with a known mafia boss in Rome.
“Unwanted attention?” he snapped. “What’s more dangerous than losing everything I’ve built? Find something I can use against her!”
He ended the call and threw the phone onto the desk. His eyes fell on the photo again—Elena, smiling at Rafael’s side at a gala in Paris. The way he stood so close to her, his hand brushing her waist, made Alexander’s stomach churn.
“Damn it,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair.
Vivienne wasn’t faring much better. She was seated in her living room, sipping wine that had gone warm. Her hair was disheveled, her makeup smudged, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t stop thinking about Elena’s smug expression, her calm arrogance.
“That woman,” Vivienne hissed to herself, slamming her glass onto the coffee table, “thinks she can walk in here and destroy me?”
She grabbed her phone and dialed Alexander.
“Alexander, it’s me,” she said the moment he picked up.
“I’m busy, Vivienne,” he replied coldly, his tone cutting through her.
“Busy? What could possibly be more important than the fact that Elena is trying to ruin us?” she snapped.
“Vivienne,” he said with a tired sigh, “how many times do I need to say this, this isn’t about you. It’s about the company. I don’t have time to hold your hand right now. I have more important things on my mind!”
Her grip on the phone tightened. “Are you even listening to yourself? She’s tearing everything apart, and all you care about is the company? What about us?”
Alexander’s silence was deafening.
“Answer me!” Vivienne demanded. “Do you still love her?”
“Vivienne, don’t,” he warned, his voice low.
“That’s not a denial,” she said bitterly, tears stinging her eyes.
“I can’t do this right now,” he muttered before ending the call, leaving Vivienne staring at the screen in disbelief.
Fueled by anger and desperation, Vivienne decided to confront Elena directly. She stormed into the Ritz-Carlton, bypassing security and heading straight to Elena’s penthouse suite. She pounded on the door until it swung open.
“Vivienne,” Elena said, her voice dripping with mock surprise. “What an unexpected visit.”
“You know exactly why I’m here,” Vivienne snapped, pushing past her into the room.
Elena closed the door with deliberate calm, turning to face her. “I didn’t realize we were on such familiar terms that you could barge into my home uninvited.”
“Cut the act,” Vivienne hissed, her voice shaking with rage. “I know what you’ve been doing with Rafael. The mafia ties, the shady deals—I know all of it. And if you think I’m going to let you destroy Alexander without a fight, you’re wrong.”
Elena arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. “Destroy Alexander?” She stepped closer, her tone soft but lethal. “Vivienne, I’m not here to destroy him. He’s doing a fine job of that all by himself.”
“Don’t pretend you’re innocent,” Vivienne shot back, her voice rising. “You’ve been plotting this for years. But it’s over. I’ll expose you, Elena. I’ll tell the press everything about you and Rafael.”
Elena’s expression darkened. She moved closer, her heels clicking against the marble floor. “You think you can threaten me?” she said, her voice low and icy.
Vivienne stepped back instinctively. “You’re not untouchable.”
Elena leaned in, her gray eyes locking onto Vivienne’s. “Let me make something very clear to you. If you come after me, I will make sure there’s nothing left of you. Nothing.”
Vivienne swallowed, her confidence faltering. “You’re bluffing.”
Elena’s smirk returned, cold and calculated. “Am I? Test me, Vivienne. See how far you get.”
Later that night, Alexander showed up at Elena’s penthouse. The door opened, and there she was, as calm and composed as ever.
“Alexander,” she said, feigning surprise. “Twice in one day. To what do I owe the honor?”
He stepped inside without waiting for an invitation. “Don’t play games with me, Elena. What the hell are you doing? Rafael? The company? All of it—what’s your endgame?”
She crossed her arms, her expression unreadable. “My endgame? I thought it was obvious. I’m taking back what’s mine.”
“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “Is this about revenge? Was this your plan all along? To destroy me?”
Elena tilted her head, her gaze steady. “No, Alexander,” she said softly. “You destroyed yourself the moment you thought I was replaceable.”
Her words hit him like a punch to the gut. He stared at her, his anger mixing with something deeper—regret, maybe even longing.
“Elena,” he began, his voice quieter now, “whatever you’re trying to prove—”
“Stop,” she interrupted, stepping closer. “I don’t owe you an explanation. You made your choices. Now you live with them.”
That same night, a blood-curdling scream echoed through Vivienne’s apartment building. When her maid entered the bedroom, she found Vivienne unconscious on the floor, blood smeared across the mirror.
Scrawled in jagged letters was a single name: Elena.