Pampered By The Ruthless Billionaire Uncle

Chapter 5

Word Count: 644 | Released on: Today at 15:03

f Columbus Circle was a glittering tapestry below. Brant was in his element, holding court, desc

hmm" or "that's impressive" at the appropriate intervals. Her mind was e

It was the night Sophia had gifted her a "couture" gown, only for it to be publicly

peaking of next week, for the Reed's party, Sop

late. She looked at Brant, her expression a

get it. It's a vintage Seraphina. The 'Stardust' gown. She

t' collection was a legend, a five-year-old masterpiece that wa

lips. A "surprise" of that magni

n't know, Brant. Sophia's tas

ent way. "Vivienne, don't be ungrateful. She w

he automatic defense.

ciliatory smile. "You're right. I'm being petty.

." The rest of the dinner was a blur of empty chatter. When he dropped her off, he was in high spirits, cert

slipping out of his reach and int

old determination. She opened her laptop, a sleek, unmarked device, and navigated to a dark-themed

ername and sent a message to a

Stardust' gown. Three days. Delivered to

as almost i

's piece. You know the rules. Full pa

ne: Of

d a staggering sum of cryptocurrency. The money came from a secret trust fund her m

siness with you, little

closed th

ht. I'll let you see what a real Stardust looks like. I'll

brated. A te

, my Vivi.

screen. She didn't reply. Instead, she opened her con

Chapter End

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“Vivienne Sterling was bound to a steel chair in a derelict warehouse, trembling as the metallic taste of her own blood filled her mouth. The thug torturing her put his phone on speaker, revealing a truth that shattered her world: her kidnapping was ordered by her best friend, Sophia. Worse, her fiancé Brant was on the line, his voice dripping with an intimacy he never showed Vivienne. "Of course I love you, baby. The engagement to Vivienne is just business. As soon as the project is finalized, I'm telling her it's over." Every sacrifice she had made for Brant-giving up Yale, fighting her family-was just a pathetic joke. As she choked on her blood, trying desperately to scream, a thug brought a heavy steel pipe down on her spine. In her fading vision, she saw Brant's formidable uncle, Julian Carlisle, bursting through the warehouse doors too late. How could she have been so utterly blind to their deceit? She died consumed by a tidal wave of regret and burning hatred, her soul screaming that if she had another chance, she would make them pay in blood. Suddenly, the absolute darkness was ripped away. Blinding sunlight stabbed her eyes. She wasn't dead on a cold concrete floor. She was sitting in the plush passenger seat of Brant's Bentley, wearing a Chanel gown from exactly one year ago. She looked at the man who had discarded her life so easily, raised her hand, and slapped him across the face.”