Oaths And Lies

The silence in the penthouse was suffocating.

Ariana sat curled on the edge of the long leather sofa, wrapped in a thick ivory throw, her hands tight around a mug of untouched tea. The rain tapped against the massive glass windows, a soft rhythm echoing her thoughts. Damien had returned from his sudden trip, but they hadn't spoken more than a few words. She had pulled further inward, the truth Vivien had revealed still unraveling inside her.

Vivien had not needed to press hard. He had simply arrived, like a well-timed storm, sliding a file folder across the café table with a quiet, "I thought you deserved to know."

Inside: photos, notarized copies of documents, a printed message thread.

One line from Damien, months before their marriage, stood out in bold ink:

"I want her to suffer the way my mother did. She'll never see it coming."

Her stomach still twisted each time she read it.

And now she was drowning in doubt, unable to look Damien in the eye.

He noticed the distance. She knew it. She could feel his eyes watching her across the room when he thought she wasn't looking. But he said nothing. Perhaps because he didn't know what she knew or perhaps because he did.

A soft chime broke her spiral. The elevator.

A few seconds later, the front door opened.

Vivien walked in without the stiffness of a stranger. He wore a long charcoal coat, damp at the shoulders, his umbrella folded neatly under one arm. He offered her a small nod, then crossed the living room as if it belonged to him.

"I didn't expect you to reach out," he said softly, his voice carrying warmth and weight.

Ariana didn't look at him. Her voice was a whisper. "I didn't know who else to call."

He took a seat in the chair opposite her, not too close. Just enough to anchor the space.

"You're not alone, Ariana."

She finally glanced at him. His eyes didn't waver. There was no arrogance in them, no pity just calm. For someone she'd once thought of as a quiet, vaguely intimidating figure in Damien's social circle, Vivien now seemed... steady. Grounded.

"Why did you show me those documents?" she asked.

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Because you needed to know what you were standing on before the floor gave out beneath you."

Her lips parted. She didn't expect honesty so raw.

"Why now?"

Vivien hesitated, then shrugged. "Because you deserve truth more than illusion. Damien... he doesn't always understand the damage he's inherited. Or the damage he's willing to pass on."

There was silence between them, but not discomfort. Something else. A strange kind of clarity.

Ariana set the mug down, her fingers trembling. "What am I supposed to do with this? With what he said?"

Vivien's gaze softened. "You're supposed to breathe. You're supposed to remember who you are without him. And when you're ready, you'll decide if the man he was is the man he still is."

It sounded so simple, but she could feel the war inside her.

A flash of lightning lit the sky outside. She jumped slightly.

Vivien noticed. His voice dropped lower. "You don't have to trust me. But I meant what I said before you're not alone. Even in this. Especially in this."

He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small pendant a simple silver circle with no markings.

"This belonged to someone who once trusted the wrong people too," he said. "Keep it, if you want. As a reminder."

She hesitated, then took it.

He stood, gave her a respectful nod, and walked toward the door.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Ariana held the pendant in her palm.

She didn't know if she was stepping into a new truth, or another carefully crafted lie.

But for the first time in days, her breath didn't shake.

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