Lyvana froze.
"What?" she asked sharply. "Are you hurt?"
"No," Emily said quickly. "I wasn’t ho. The place was already ransacked when I got back. Liv, soone went through your things."
Lyvana’s grip tightened around her phone.
"Did you call the police?"
"Yea, I already did."
"Did they take anything?" she asked carefully.
"I don’t think so," Emily replied. "It feels like they were looking for sothing. The dummy alarm on the safe was triggered. I think that’s what scared the intruder away before they could finish."
Lyvana felt a chill. She had bought the safe because she was afraid soone would try to steal her docunts like they did in her previous life.
She had been right.
Her mind raced. This was it, the ti her docunts were stolen.
"I’m on my way."
....
Clarisse walked barefoot down the hallway, her robe tied loosely around her. She had not been able to sleep and needed a glass of wine to relax. She was terrified that the police would arrive at any mont to arrest her for the break-in.
She was at Mark’s family house and he had not returned ho yet.
As she reached the end of the hallway, she realized the kitchen door was opened.
Alex, Mark’s younger brother, was sitting at the island. He had a bottle of red wine open and was slowly swirling a glass, looking deep in thought.
He didn’t look up.
"Couldn’t sleep either, baby?" he said llazily. "Co here."
She turned but before she could leave, Alex reached out and grabbed the fabric of her night gown, pulling her firmly toward him.
"What do you think you are doing?" she asked. "I am getting tired of your recklessness Alex. I just might tell your brother about it."
Alex only laughed. "My brother is getting married Clarisse, don’t forget that."
"We both know he is mine. That bitch doesn’t stand a chance."
He lowered his head kissing her neck.
"Alex everyone is upstairs." She tried to wriggle free.
"I don’t care," he muttered, holding her tighter, his gaze fixed on her lips. "I’m horny for you."
He trailed wet kisses over her cheeks.
"Stop kissing Alex, your brother can walk in at any mont."
"Fuck that," he growled, his voice low and rough. "We’ve done this plenty of tis already. I know exactly how much you want inside you."
He pressed his hand under her nightgown making her moan. He knew exactly where and how she liked to be touched.
"You are soaked babe, take off your panties."
She moved to the side of the table and lifted her gown.
srized, Alex watches as she slowly removes her panties, exposing the hair between her thighs. His gaze lingers on her before he roughly turns her over the counter.
Seconds later pleasure shot through her as he entered her. She pressed her hands hard against the counter as she lost herself in the feeling.
By the ti Mark walked into the kitchen, Clarisse and Alex were sitting at the small table, each holding a cup of steaming coffee.
....
The next day, Lyvana walked into the restaurant. Low voices filled the air, mixed with the soft clink of silverware.
At the far end sat a woman who looked up and smiled as she approached. It was the editor of Vogue Italia. She was at Lyvana’s engagent party.
Lyvana took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. The editor’s phone call had been a total shock. With everything that happened the day before with the break-in, a eting with one of the most powerful won in fashion was the last thing she expected today.
Lyvana walked toward the table, her heels soft against the floor. The editor stood up to greet her, her smile warm but assessing, like she was already taking ntal notes.
"Lyvana," she said, holding out her hand. "It’s good to see you again."
"The pleasure is mine," Lyvana replied, shaking her hand and sitting down. Her voice was steady, even though her nerves was not.
They exchanged a few polite words. The editor spoke about Milan, about fashion weeks, about how quickly she had beco famous. Lyvana listened carefully, answering when needed, choosing her words with care.
They spoke about Lyvana’s upcoming runway show and the new collection she planned to unveil.
The editor asked sharp, thoughtful questions — about the inspiration behind the designs, the mood of the collection, and the story Lyvana wanted the clothes to tell.
"It’s ambitious," the editor said with a nod. "And perfectly tid."
Then she smiled and added, "I’d like to feature you in our next edition. A full interview. Your work, your journey, your vision."
Lyvana paused for only a second before smiling back. "I’d be honored," she said honestly.
"Good," the editor replied. "My team will contact you soon."
They finished their lunch on pleasant terms. When it was ti to leave, Marco drove Lyvana straight to the Vaughn estate. She was having dinner with Mark’s family.
When they arrived, she stared out the window at the massive gates. Her stomach tightening.
She hated this place and everyone inside it, but she knew she couldn’t disappear just yet. For now, she had to play their ga. She had to keep up appearances until her plan was ready. But her patience was wearing thin.
As Marco pulled the car to a stop in the circular driveway, Lyvana took a long, steady breath. She checked her reflection in the mirror, smoothing her hair until she looked like the perfect, obedient girlfriend they expected her to be.
"I’ll be back after dinner," she said softly. "You can take a break. I will call you if I need you."
"Alright ma’am," Marco replied.
She stepped out of the car and walked up the stone steps. The house felt like a museum — beautiful to look at, but dead inside. As soon as she entered the foyer, the sound of laughter drifted from the sitting room. It was a sound she knew well. Elena and Maya, Mark’s sisters, likely gossiping about her with their mother Susan.
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