Chapter 5

The Prince's annual gala arrived ten days later, right on schedule.

Before leaving, I changed into the gown I had prepared in advance.

The wedding ring was still on my finger.

Gideon's people had already arranged everything.

All I had to do was reach the woods during the chaos, change into the clothes they'd left for me, and let them stage the scene and escort me out.

Everyone would believe that Vivienne Ravenscroft was struck by a silver bullet and reduced to ashes.

A servant was adjusting the hem of my dress when Lucian came downstairs.

He glanced at me.

"Let's go."

"Mm."

The car ride was silent.

He only ever showed up for galas hosted by the Prince.

In front of the Prince and his wife, everyone would smile and remark on what a fine couple Lucian and I made.

Even though everyone knew he didn't love me.

I couldn't bear to keep this false, cold marriage alive for another second.

My only regret was that I hadn't discovered the truth sooner, before wasting so many tears and so much love.

Lucian sat on the other side of the car, scrolling through messages. I didn't bother making conversation.

The phone's glow flickered across his face.

I turned and looked out the window.

In a few hours, if everything went well, this would be the last time I sat in this car as his wife.

The gala was packed.

I made eye contact with Gideon's operative, then stayed quietly by Lucian's side.

The grand hall was as lively as ever.

Gideon had kept the intelligence tightly controlled. No one knew that hunters would come tonight.

And no one knew that I intended to die there tonight.

Lucian and I had barely entered when people came to say hello.

The crowd pressed in from the side, and someone bumped my shoulder.

I lost my balance and instinctively grabbed Lucian's arm.

He looked down almost immediately.

He stood there, rigid, and didn't steady me.

My hand paused.

"Sorry."

Lucian didn't seem to think anything was wrong.

In all our years of marriage, aside from the bare minimum, he rarely touched me.

Most of the time, he waved it off with that "emotional disorder" excuse.

Eventually I stopped asking and just waited for him to reach out on his own.

Perhaps he thought I should be grateful that he didn't pull away in front of all these people.

"Are you feeling unwell? It's crowded. Be careful."

He looked at me. Maybe my coldness these past few days had tipped him off that something was wrong.

Lucian's voice was surprisingly soft, and concern showed on his face.

"Okay."

He kept walking.

All I felt was numb self-mockery.

I paused for half a second before following.

Just one more step and I would be free of him.

I wasn't about to give up this chance over a single gentle sentence.

Shortly after the gala began, Celeste came over.

She was at Lucian's side tonight, as always, handling business matters.

"Sir, there's a document you need to review."

It was too loud. She had to repeat herself twice before Lucian heard her.

Celeste leaned in a little closer and spoke near his ear.

Her shoulder nearly touched his arm.

Lucian didn't pull away.

I stood beside them and watched them finish their exchange.

Celeste was about to step back when someone carrying a glass bumped into her from behind.

She swayed.

Lucian reached out and caught her arm.

"Careful."

"Thank you."

He let go quickly.

The motion was smooth and natural.

Lucian turned back toward me. I looked away quickly, pretending I hadn't seen a thing.

If no one knew the truth about them or the "emotional disorder" excuse he'd given me, there would have been nothing unusual about it.

From the very beginning, I was the only one faithfully obeying his so-called boundaries.

"Vivienne?"

Someone called my name.

I looked up.

A noblewoman I had known for years stood in front of me with a glass of wine.

She smiled at me, then glanced at Lucian.

"You two have been married five years now, haven't you?"

"Mm."

"Still the same as when you first got married."

She paused.

That little smile told me exactly what she really meant.

Lucian and I were standing too far apart.

We looked nothing like a couple married five years.

Before I could say anything, Lucian spoke up, his voice cool and even.

"Vivienne and I have our own way of doing things."

Recognition dawned on the woman's face.

"Of course."

"All these years must have been hard on you."

That last part was directed at me.

I held my glass and didn't answer.

Lucian, though, added, "She's always been very understanding."

His tone was perfectly calm.

My chest tightened.

Understanding.

So all my years of suffering, in his eyes, amounted to being "understanding."

I never asked for a hug.

I never confronted him about staying out all night.

When he broke his promises, I covered for him.

When he said he didn't like people getting too close, I checked his face before I so much as brushed his hand.

I had spent all those years walking on eggshells, and his only verdict was that I was "understanding."

A wife who never demanded affection and could produce a pureblood heir. What wasn't there to like?

In this relationship, I was the only one who ever got hurt.

"What's wrong?"

Lucian asked.

I realized I had been silent for too long.

"Nothing."

He looked at me.

And it was only a glance.

"Mm."

Then he turned away and went on talking to the person beside him.

I watched him, and I remembered the laughter I had heard outside his office.

He could laugh.

He noticed other people's emotions.

He knew exactly when to reach out and steady someone.

He understood all of it.

And I had believed that lie for five full years.

All those years, he came and went as he pleased, left me standing alone in front of everyone, and never needed a reason or an apology.

For years, I had been afraid that my feelings were a burden to him.

I had kept his lie alive all on my own.

I didn't know how much the people around me had figured out.

I didn't dare wonder whether anyone at those galas had already looked at me with pity.

Or thought I was a fool.

I was the only one who never knew.

I thought I was standing by a sick husband, patiently teaching him to love.

But he had always known how.

I just wasn't the one he loved.

Halfway through the gala, I found Gideon in a side room.

He finished his conversation before walking over to me.

"Why do you look so pale?"

"Just tired."

He studied me for a moment but didn't press.

"Everything outside is in place," he said, lowering his voice.

"After the gunfire starts, my people will meet you at the rear."

"Mm."

"If anything deviates from the plan tonight, abort it immediately."

I nodded.

"I know."

Gideon paused.

"Vivienne, if you're having second thoughts, don't go through with it."

My hand drifted to my stomach.

Just thinking about my child's future, about my baby being taken and raised by a father who didn't love him and saw him only as an heir, made it impossible for me to stay.

I had to leave.

I had to do it for myself and my child.

"I won't have second thoughts, Dad."

He didn't linger. He left quickly.

When I returned to the main hall, Celeste was saying something to Lucian.

He tilted his head toward her, and the corner of his mouth lifted just slightly.

Barely there.

But I saw it.

That was the expression I had waited five years for and had so rarely seen on his face.

I stood outside the crowd and watched them for a while.

The ache in my chest gradually faded.

He had spent five years teaching me not to come close.

Not to expect him to care about me.

Not to be upset when he ignored me.

Then he saved every bit of warmth for another woman.

I looked down and touched the ring on my finger.

Just as well.

This marriage had only a few minutes left.