Chapter 3

Looking at my son's tear-soaked face, my heart completely shattered. It wasn't just the betrayal. It was the absolute, sickening double standard.

He spent weeks drawing it. Oliver’s words echoed in my head.

I looked down at the device in Oliver's hands. It was my old, hand-me-down iPad with a small crack in the corner.

Whenever Oliver asked for a proper drawing tablet or begged to take professional design classes, Louis always shut him down.

"Boys need to be toughened up, Vivian," Louis would lecture me, sipping his scotch. "If you coddle him, he’ll turn soft. Let him figure it out with what he has. Poor raising builds character."

I had to sneak around just to buy Oliver decent sketching pencils.

Yet, for Barbara’s daughter? Louis suddenly had all the time and money in the world. A seven-year-old got a custom-made haute couture gown and bespoke jewelry delivered in a velvet box with my family's brand crest on it.

Whatever Sophie wanted, Sophie got.

I took a deep breath, wiped Oliver’s tears, and gently took the iPad away.

"Don't worry about the dress, baby," I whispered, kissing his forehead. "I promise you'll get something a million times better. Now get some sleep."

I turned off his light and walked straight to the master bedroom.

Louis just stepped out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist. He was aggressively rubbing his hair dry, humming a tune.

He reached out and grabbed my shoulders. I had to force myself not to shove him away.

"Listen to me," he whispered, faking a smile. "Oliver's birthday is coming up. I’m planning a massive surprise for him. Huge. It's going to blow his mind. Okay? Just trust me. You just need to focus on resting. Go to New York, clear your head, and leave the stress to me."

He was practically begging me to leave the country.

"A huge surprise," I echoed, forcing a fake smile of my own. "Sounds great."

"Exactly! Now come to bed. Big meeting tomorrow."

The next morning, the atmosphere in the glass-walled boardroom was suffocating.

All twelve global executives were present. I sat at the head of the table, Louis on my right. And sitting entirely too comfortably on his left was Barbara.

She had no official title, yet she was sipping a latte in my boardroom, wearing a Chanel suit.

We were wrapping up the Q3 financial reports when Barbara suddenly cleared her throat.

"If I may," she smiled, placing her manicured hands on the mahogany table. "Since Vivian is taking her much-needed, extended vacation to New York next week, we need to ensure the brand doesn't lose momentum."

The room went dead silent. The CFO stopped typing. The PR Director stared at her coffee mug.

"I propose that I step in as Acting Creative and Commercial Director during her absence," Barbara announced smoothly. "To lighten Vivian's load, of course."

The audacity was staggering. She wanted total control of the company I rebuilt from the ground up.

"That's a brilliant idea," Louis chimed in instantly. He didn't even pretend to think about it. "Barb knows the European market perfectly. It’ll inject fresh energy into the brand while Vivian rests."

Barbara leaned forward, locking eyes with me. A triumphant, vicious smirk played on her lips.

"You don't mind, do you, Vivian?" she asked sweetly. "You don't think I'm trying to steal your position, right? It's just temporary."

Every executive in the room held their breath. They knew my temper. They knew I had fired men for much less. They braced for the explosion.

Instead, I leaned back in my leather chair and smiled.

"I don't mind at all," I said cheerfully. "Actually, I think it's a fantastic idea. The roles are yours, Barbara."

The collective gasp in the room was audible. Louis is also surprised.

"Really?" Louis asked, his eyes lighting up.

"Absolutely. Have fun with it," I said, standing up and grabbing my folders. "Meeting adjourned."

I walked out of the boardroom without looking back.

Ten seconds later, I heard heavy footsteps behind me. Louis grabbed my elbow as I reached my office door.

"Viv! Wait!" he panted, pulling me into a tight, fake hug.

"I know that was sudden," he whispered in my ear. "But you handled it perfectly. Thank you. It’s just a stopgap, I swear."

He pulled back, looking at me with those lying, earnest eyes.

"When you get back from New York, I'm creating a brand new title just for you," he promised quickly. "Global Vice Chair of Creativity. You'll be above everyone. It’s going to be amazing."

I stared at him. The Ashworth brand had existed for a hundred years. There was no such thing as a "Global Vice Chair of Creativity." It was a completely made-up, powerless title.

Just like the massive birthday surprise he promised Oliver. Just like the vows he made at our wedding.

Empty words from an empty man.

"I can't wait, Louis," I smiled softly, stepping out of his grip. "I really can't wait."

I walked into my office and locked the door. I pulled out my phone and texted Gabriel.

“Send the contracts. I’m leaving Sunday.”