Chapter 3
October 18th.
At the entrance of Vivian's office building, a black GMC executive van had been parked for three days. Every day at 10 a.m., a sharply dressed driver would step out and deliver a large bouquet of blue roses imported straight from Hollandia, together with the newest Hermes Bag, to the reception desk, with instructions that it was for Ms. White.
Of course, I was the mastermind behind it all.
I registered a WhatsApp account with a fresh phone number, using a profile pic of a guy sporting a Patek Philippe and holding the wheel of a Ferrari. I played the part of a mysterious trust fund heir who'd been instantly smitten with Vivian at a cocktail party. My messages oozed an air of dominance and the kind of lavish generosity.
Vivian accepted my friend request.
She started out cautious, testing the waters, but soon she embraced the attention and gifts without hesitation. Her vanity, like a wild beast being fed, swelled rapidly with every present.
And I always made sure that each flower delivery slip somehow found its way into Alex's passenger-side glove compartment. The slip clearly showed the recipient's name, address, and a note with a touch of affection: "For my most special Viv."
Tonight, the fish is finally hooked.
I lay on the chaise lounge in the bedroom, wearing white noise-canceling headphones, casually flipping through a fashion magazine. Every word from the study came through loud and clear. I'd planted the tiny bug on the base of his favorite pen last week, while he was away on business.
"Who sent those flowers? And that Hermes Bag?" Alex's voice was barely holding back his rage, like a volcano about to erupt.
"I... I don't know. It's just a friend..." Vivian's voice was choked with tears, full of panic.
"A friend? What kind of friend gives you a bag worth over a hundred grand? Vivian, I'm warning you, don't play games with me! Do you think you've landed yourself a big shot and now you're trying to dump me?" Alex's suspicion and possessiveness flared up like dry grass set ablaze, spreading out of control in an instant.
"Alex, you can't suspect me, I've done so much for you. I don't even care about having an official title..."
"Save it!" The sound of a crisp slap crackled through my headphones, and the corners of my mouth curled up even more. I could almost see Vivian holding her cheek, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief as she looked at him.
The fight escalated—yelling, sobbing, and vicious insults hurled back and forth. He called her a shameless gold-digger, and she fired back, calling him a selfish hypocrite. Every sweet nothing they'd ever whispered was now a dagger aimed straight at the other's heart. He started to wonder if the docile girl he thought he had on a leash was secretly planning to share the huge fortune soon to be hers with another man behind his back.
I slipped off my headphones, and silence settled over everything. Outside, moonlight poured in, washing over the Persian rug with a gentle, silvery glow.
Sometimes, all it takes is a hairline fracture in the wall of trust for everything to collapse. And I was the one who put the chisel in their hands.