The Games Begin
1051 Words
The next morning, the tabloids were merciless.
ALEXANDER HALE’S EX-FIANCÉE BACK IN NEW YORK — FRIENDLY REUNION OR SOMETHING MORE?
WHO IS HARPER QUINN REALLY? SOURCES SAY THE ENGAGEMENT MAY NOT BE WHAT IT SEEMS.
My stomach turned as I scrolled through the headlines. My phone buzzed every few seconds — friends, reporters, even my old boss from the design studio asking if I was okay.
I wasn’t.
Vivienne had only been back in town for twenty-four hours, and already the narrative was spiraling out of control.
Across the penthouse, Alexander stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, phone pressed to his ear, voice low and clipped. I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but I could guess. Damage control. That was his specialty.
He ended the call and turned toward me. “Don’t read the articles.”
“Bit late for that,” I said dryly. “They’re everywhere.”
“I’m handling it,” he said, too quickly.
I set my phone down. “You can’t control her, can you?”
His jaw flexed. “Vivienne thrives on chaos. She always has.”
“And now she’s using me to cause more of it.”
He didn’t deny it. That told me everything I needed to know.
⸻
By midday, things had only gotten worse.
Vivienne had given an exclusive interview to a lifestyle blog, one filled with perfectly crafted sound bites — the kind that sounded innocent until you realized how poisonous they were.
“I’ll always have love for Alex. We went through so much together.”
“I just hope he’s truly happy this time.”
“Harper seems… sweet. I suppose opposites attract.”
I could practically hear the smugness dripping off the screen.
When I confronted Alexander about it that afternoon, he didn’t look surprised. “She wants a reaction. Don’t give her one.”
I folded my arms. “You’re really going to ignore it?”
“That’s what she hates most.”
“But what about your company’s image? Your shareholders?”
He gave me a tired smile. “They’ve seen worse.”
The calmness in his voice only frustrated me more. I wanted him to fight for us — for what we’d started, even if we weren’t sure what it was yet. But Alexander Hale didn’t fight with emotion; he fought with silence.
And Vivienne knew that better than anyone.
⸻
That evening, we attended a fundraiser together — a public appearance we couldn’t cancel without feeding the gossip.
I spent extra time getting ready, choosing a sleek black dress and a pair of gold earrings that caught the light every time I turned my head. The effect was deliberate — armor disguised as elegance.
Alexander didn’t say much when he saw me, but his gaze lingered longer than usual, a flicker of something dark and conflicted there.
At the event, cameras flashed the moment we stepped onto the marble staircase. I smiled until my cheeks hurt, holding his arm like it was second nature. We were the picture of grace and control — until Vivienne appeared at the top of the stairs.
She looked like she’d stepped out of a dream — a blood-red gown that shimmered under the chandeliers, diamonds glinting at her throat. She spotted us instantly, her lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile.
“Oh,” she said lightly as we approached. “What a coincidence.”
Alexander’s body went still beside me. “Vivienne.”
“I didn’t realize you’d be here,” she said, though her tone made it clear she’d known exactly where we’d be.
“Of course you did,” he said quietly.
She laughed, low and soft. “Still so suspicious.”
Her gaze shifted to me. “And Harper, you look lovely. Really. I can see why Alex fell so quickly.”
The way she said his name — Alex — made my stomach twist.
“Thank you,” I said smoothly. “You look… bold.”
A few nearby guests stifled smiles. Vivienne’s expression didn’t flicker, but I saw the faintest c***k in her composure.
Alexander cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse us.”
But Vivienne wasn’t done. “Oh, Alex, before you go—do you remember the vineyard in Napa? The one we almost bought?”
He froze.
Vivienne smiled sweetly. “I was thinking of visiting. Maybe I’ll take Harper along, show her what could have been.”
And with that, she drifted away into the crowd, leaving perfume and tension in her wake.
I turned to Alexander. “She’s enjoying this.”
“She wants to see how far she can push.”
“And how far will you let her?”
He didn’t answer.
⸻
Back at the penthouse later that night, I dropped my clutch on the counter and kicked off my heels. The silence between us was unbearable.
“She’s not just stirring gossip,” I said finally. “She’s trying to make me doubt you.”
Alexander leaned against the window, his reflection fractured in the glass. “She wants control back. And if she can’t have me, she’ll settle for chaos.”
I stepped closer. “Then stop giving her the space to do it.”
He turned sharply. “You think I haven’t tried?”
The anger in his voice startled me. But beneath it, I heard something else — exhaustion.
“She’s not just my ex,” he said quietly. “Vivienne knows things—about my company, my family. Things that could hurt a lot of people if she decides to talk.”
My breath caught. “So she’s blackmailing you?”
He didn’t deny it.
That was when I realized how deep this went. Vivienne wasn’t just back to win him. She was back to ruin him.
And somehow, I was caught in the middle.
⸻
That night, long after he’d gone to his office, I sat alone in the dark living room, replaying the day’s events.
Vivienne’s smile.
The headlines.
The look in Alexander’s eyes when he said she still had power over him.
I should have felt afraid. But mostly, I felt determined.
Because if Vivienne Laurent thought she could destroy us — destroy me — she clearly didn’t know who she was dealing with.
- Writer
