Chapter 41
Shadows and Shutters
His jaw brushed the top of her head. “We don’t get do–overs.”
“No. But maybe we get something close.”
She lifted her head slowly. Their eyes met again. Hers glassy, his unreadable.
For a moment, the space between them narrowed.
She tilted her chin.
He didn’t move.
She leaned in
A soft sound broke the moment.
They froze.
Not a knock.
A click.
A camera shutter.
Magnus turned sharply toward the door.
It was slightly ajar.
Vivienne pulled back, breath catching. “Did someone ”
He crossed the room fast and yanked the door open.
Nothing.
The hallway was empty. But a few feet away, just past the stairwell, a shadow moved.
Gone,
“Security,” he snapped, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Now.”
Vivienne’s hands went to her mouth. “Someone took a picture of us.”
He turned to her, eyes blazing, “We’ll find out who,”
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She nodded, shaken. “Why would anyone
He didn’t answer.
Because he already had a theory.
:
And it started with a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in weeks.
The sunlight was brutal the next morning.
Vivienne stirred in bed, disoriented by the brightness spilling through the window. For a moment, she didn’t know where she was. The sheets were smooth. Scented. Not her own. Her muscles ached not from sleep, but from the emotions of the night before. Her mind slowly pulled the pieces together: Magnus. The study. The photo. The warmth of his arms around her. Then the sound.
Click.
She bolted upright.
Magnus’s side of the bed was empty.
She grabbed her phone.
Seven missed calls.
Three texts from an unknown number.
One from her former assistant.
And a news alert that made her stomach clench.
She tapped the screen. The headline screamed at her in bold font:
MAGNUS CALLOWAY’S SECRET LOVER EXPOSED
Below the headline was a grainy photo of her face buried in Magnus’s chest, his hand resting on her back. The lighting was harsh. The zoom is cruel. She looked small. Vulnerable.
The caption: Homewrecker Returns to Billionaire’s Bed.
She gasped, dropped the phone, and covered her mouth.
Footsteps.
Magnus walked in, phone in hand, face carved in steel.
“You’ve seen it,” he said.
“They… they called me
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“I’ve already contacted legal. And PR. We’ll track it to the source.”
She sat back against the headboard. Her voice cracked. “What are they saying?
He turned the phone to her. Another article.
INSIDE MAGNUS CALLOWAY’S LUXURY SCANDAL: THE EX RETURNS
Then another.
FROM WIFE TO WHISPER: HOW VIVIENNE MONROE STAGED A COMEBACK
She looked at him. “They’re calling me a homewrecker.”
“You’re not.”
They think I broke something that was already gone.”
They think what they’re told.”
Her fingers dug into the blanket. “I should go.”
“No.”
“Magnus, this will only get worse.”
“Exactly. Which is why we face it head–on.”
She stared at him. His voice was calm, but his eyes were burning.
“You’ve had your name dragged before,” she whispered. “But mine ”
“Will be protected.”
“How?”
He sat beside her. “I’ll control the narrative. I always do.”
“And if you can’t?”
He looked her dead in the eye, “Then I burn it all down.”
She believed him.
Across town, Selene Laurent sat in her high–rise office with floor–to–ceiling windows framing the city.
She was alone, except for the assistant standing nervously by the door.
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Her legs were crossed. Her expression was serene.
She scrolled slowly through the headlines.
Paused on the image.
Magnus. Vivienne.
Her mouth curled at the corner.
She turned to her assistant. Make sure the photo runs in tomorrow’s New York Echo too. Frontpage.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
And arrange an interview. Let’s give them the story they want.”
The assistant hesitated. “What story?”
She smiled wider. “The one where I play the victim.”
Back at the estate, Magnus paced the living room.
Vivienne stood behind the counter, clutching a cup of tea she hadn’t sipped.
“We need a statement,” he said.
“From me?”
“From both of us. Together. A united front.”
She nodded slowly. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Tell the truth.”
“That I didn’t come back to seduce you? That I was blackmailed, lied to, manipulated?”
“Yes.”
She looked down. “It won’t matter.”
“It will if we don’t run from it.”
He stepped closer.
“I’m not letting them take this from us.”
Her voice wavered. “Do we even know what this is?”
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He cupped her cheek. I know what I want it to be
Outside, paparazzi gathered at the gates.
Inside, Magnus pulled her in.
And the world sharpened its knives.
Selene tapped her fingers slowly across her polished desk.
And smiled.
零列
The sunlight was intrusive the next morning sharp, white, and cruel.
Vivienne stirred beneath the silk sheets, the weight of the last twenty–four hours already pressing into her chest before she even opened her eyes. Her body ached in strange places: her neck stiff from resting against Magnus’s shoulder, her legs curled too tightly beneath her the night before. Her eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the unfamiliar brightness. She didn’t recognize the room at first: tall windows, soft beige walls, cool tones, and darker shadows along the baseboards. And silence. The kind that screamed.
She turned.
Magnus wasn’t beside her.
Only the faintest dent in the pillow where his head had rested told her it hadn’t been a dream.
Then the vibration came.
Her phone buzzed once.
Then again.
Then six times in a row.
She sat up and grabbed it off the nightstand.
Seven missed calls.
Three texts from numbers she didn’t recognize.
One message from her former assistant that just said, “Turn on the news. Now.”
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