Chapter 18: The Revelation
Reginald was pacing the length of his study, his hands clasped behind his back, the air thick with tension. The sounds from the hallway, faint but unmistakable, had made his pulse quicken, a low simmer of unease crawling beneath his skin. He'd heard it all before, and yet, tonight felt different. It was the echoes of the conversation in Vivienne's room—he could hear it now, the soft murmurs, the gentle sighs, the sounds of something more intimate than mere words. It was the kind of thing that, in his mind, had never existed between his wife and him. Something he had never been privy to. Something forbidden.
His jaw clenched. Not hers. His grip tightened on the edge of his desk, his knuckles white from the force. He had known that the marriage between him and Evelyn had been built on a facade, but this was something else. To know that her heart, her loyalty, her very soul had always belonged to another was too much to bear.
The thinly veiled echoes of laughter that drifted from Vivienne's quarters were now seared into his thoughts. Evelyn's name, Vivienne's voice, the soft flicker of affection between them—it all spoke to something he had never been privy to. Something forbidden.
Reginald stood at the window, watching the rain slant down against the glass as if nature itself mirrored the storm brewing within him. He could hear the muffled sounds from the hallway now—soft whispers, words he couldn't make out. But the tone. The tone was unmistakable. It was the kind of intimacy he'd never shared with Evelyn. No, the kind he had never even dared to dream of.
His mind was a whirlpool of thought. Was this why she never looked at him? He had tried to appease her, tried to win her affection with gifts, with power, with influence, but nothing seemed to work. And now, it was clear. Evelyn was hers. Always had been.
The anger began to rise within him, curling its way into every fiber of his being. He couldn't let this stand. Couldn't let this betrayal fester in silence. With an angry breath, he turned on his heel and stormed from his study, the sound of his boots striking the stone floor like a harbinger of what was to come.
He didn't bother knocking when he reached Vivienne's door. He flung it open, his chest heaving with suppressed rage.
Evelyn and Vivienne were not seated, nor were they speaking in whispered tones. They were tangled together on the floor, their lips meeting in a kiss that would have burned his eyes had he not already felt like he was drowning. For a moment, Reginald stood frozen in place, as though the world had come to a complete halt. His eyes locked onto Evelyn, her face pressed against Vivienne's, their bodies entangled in a way that was both foreign and intimate. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, he couldn't breathe.
Vivienne pulled away first, her expression unreadable, but the flicker of something like satisfaction—or was it triumph?—flared in her eyes. She rose to her feet slowly, her gaze never leaving Reginald. "What does it look like?" she replied, her voice smooth, almost languid. "It looks like your lie has finally come to an end."
Reginald's face flushed with heat, his hands trembling at his sides. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "I never asked for this. You made this your own, Vivienne. You played your part, kept your distance, pretended to be a dutiful sister while you…" He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence without choking on the words.
Evelyn, still seated on the floor, drew her knees to her chest. Her eyes, swollen from what had obviously been an emotional night, met his with a mixture of defiance and exhaustion. She didn't apologize, nor did she offer any explanations. No excuses. No regret.
"We're done pretending," she finally said, her voice steady despite the rawness in her eyes. "I'm not yours, Reginald. I never was. Not in any way that mattered. Not when it counted."
Reginald's mind reeled. Not hers. He had known that the marriage between him and Evelyn had been built on a facade, but this was something else. To know that her heart, her loyalty, her very soul had always belonged to another was too much to bear.
A cold laugh bubbled up from his chest, and he let it escape, though it felt more like a bitter cough. "You think you've won, don't you?" he spat, his eyes darting between the two women. "You think you can just cast me aside and walk away without consequence?"
Vivienne didn't flinch. "We don't need to win anything, Reginald. We never wanted this charade. You were the one who placed us in it, and now you're the one who has to deal with the fallout."
"You think I care about your pathetic love affair?" Reginald's voice rose, sharp and venomous. He strode across the room, his eyes flickering toward Evelyn with disdain. "Do you think this changes anything? You think you can destroy my legacy by crawling into bed with her? What do you think this will accomplish? Do you think the Liore and Maxwell will stand for this? That they'll still follow me when they know the truth?"
Evelyn stood then, her back straight, her hands clenched at her sides. She had shed the last vestiges of whatever pretense she'd once harbored. "I'm not your legacy, Reginald. I never was. And if you think this changes how I feel about you, you're sorely mistaken. I've told you before: I never loved you. I left Maxwell for you, not because I wanted to, but because I had to. Because you needed a shield, and I was the only one willing to be it."
Vivienne stepped forward, her presence a quiet storm. She was unfazed by Reginald's spitting anger, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to his fury. "And as for Eva," she said, her voice dripping with cold precision, "she isn't yours either. Never was. You have nothing to hold over us, Reginald. Nothing but your empty words and your stolen title."
Reginald's face contorted with rage. He took a step back, as though struck by something more than just words. His fist clenched, and for a moment, it looked as though he might lash out—either physically or verbally.
But Vivienne's unwavering gaze, the quiet power in her stance, made him hesitate. Instead, his words came out in a sharp hiss, as though they were tearing through his throat. "You'll regret this. All of you will regret this. You think you're untouchable? You think I'm the only one who can make your life miserable? You'll see. You'll see how far I'm willing to go to make you both suffer for this betrayal."
With that, he spun on his heel, storming out of the room, the door slamming behind him like the sound of the last nail being driven into a coffin.
The room was silent in his wake, the echoes of his fury still vibrating in the air. Vivienne and Evelyn stood there, caught in the aftermath of his outburst.
Evelyn looked at Vivienne, her eyes softening with unspoken gratitude. "He'll try to make things difficult, won't he?"
Vivienne nodded, her expression unreadable. "He's always been good at that. But you don't need to worry about him. He has nothing left."
Evelyn stepped closer to her then, her fingers brushing Vivienne's arm. "Thank you. For standing by me. For helping me finally see the truth."
Vivienne smiled gently, her hands brushing through Evelyn's hair. "No need for thanks, Eve. You've always known the truth. It was only a matter of time before you finally chose it."
Evelyn reached up, cupping Vivienne's face in her hands. Their foreheads met gently, a soft touch that held everything unsaid between them. "I'm not going anywhere. I choose you. Always."
And Vivienne, her heart full of warmth, whispered back, "And I choose you."
In the quiet aftermath of Reginald's rage, the two women stood in the shared silence, knowing that no matter what battles lay ahead, they had already won the war.
The world outside could burn for all they cared. They had each other, and that was enough.