Chapter 7

Neal strode in at the head of an entourage. His attendants were bearing treasures fit to ransom kings—a rare pink diamond necklace, antique masterpieces, even the deed to a private island. The crowd erupted in murmurs. "Th-these are from Mr. Wilder?" "I heard he had his people outbid everyone at the last auction just to secure Ms. Vivian's win. And now this? She's about to rise straight to the top!" Voices rose and fell in hushed debate. More than a few glanced Willow's way. Their gazes were heavy with pity. She was the striking one, the legitimate daughter, yet everyone thought she'd lost to Vivian. Willow set down her wineglass and turned toward the balcony. The cool night air blew against her skin. She had just drawn a deep breath when Vivian's voice slithered in from behind. "Willow, why are you out here all alone?" With the guest and Walter nowhere in sight, Vivian had finally dropped the act. "You know. Dad told me you're marrying that guy who's in a vegetative state." Her smile was sweet, and her voice was syrupy with venom. "How pathetic. First, your mom lost to mine. Now, you're losing to me." Willow whirled around. "Say that again." "You want to hear it?" Vivian closed the distance between them, each word dripping from her lips like acid. "Your mom deserved to die in childbirth. She—" A sharp slap rang out. But it wasn't Willow who struck. Vivian had hit herself. Then, as if on cue, her tears came instantly. Staggering back, she collapsed perfectly into Alden's arms as he rushed forward. "Don't blame Willow…" She sobbed into her hand. "I'm the one who upset her…" A moment later, Walter and the guests arrived. Their condemning stares pierced Willow like arrows. "Willow!" Walter thundered. "Have you no decency at all?" The guests' whispers floated through the air, sharper than knives. "How vile, and on Ms. Vivian's birthday, no less…" "No surprise, really. A person raised without a mother's touch will turn spiteful…" Realizing Vivian's performance was carefully staged, Willow let out a humorless laugh. Then she strode forward and slapped Vivian hard across the face in front of everyone. "See this?" She hurled her champagne glass to the floor. Shards exploded, and each fragment reflected a different stunned face from the crowd. "That's me hitting her." She turned, just in time to see Alden drag Vivian close. His arm was slung over her shoulders, and his gaze was icy. Willow had just rounded the corner of the garden path when a hand seized her wrist. Fingers were digging into her skin with bruising force. Alden's grip was so tight she could feel the grind of bone. "Ms. Willow." His voice was low. "What?" She met his gaze with icy mockery. "I slapped her once. Are you here to pay me back with 99 more?" Alden's eyes widened. What did she mean by that? Had she found out about what happened the last time? No way. It was impossible. He'd covered his tracks. "Ms. Willow." He loosened his grip slightly, and his brow furrowed. "You have everything. Why would you pick on Ms. Vivian?" "I have everything?" Willow's laugh tore out of her, sounding like a ragged sob. "What do I have? The moment she arrived, she drove my mother into such distress that she died in childbirth. Two lives, gone! "She took my room, toys, allowance, and father! Even my chance to study abroad! Everything I ever had!" It was the first time Alden had heard her say so much. Moonlight caught the tears welling in her eyes—eyes that were always sharp with scorn—but she held them there, refusing to let them fall. Alden's voice cut like steel. "I heard that Ms. Vivian was the one who had it rough." Willow shoved him away and turned to leave. "Believe what you want." Before she climbed into the car, Alden spoke again. "Ms. Willow, I'd like to take a few days off." "Do whatever you want." She slammed the door without looking back. The black car had driven some distance when she suddenly told the driver, "Turn around." By the time they neared Rooney Manor again, Alden was just stepping into a Rolls-Royce, exactly as she'd expected. Willow had her driver trail it at a distance until they stopped outside an upscale tattoo parlor. Through the window, she watched as Alden unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the hard lines of his chest. The tattoo artist said something, and Alden pointed to the spot over his heart. He spoke, and Willow could read the name on his lips—Vivi.