Chapter 184

The chat remained stubbornly silent.

Vivian's fingers hovered over the screen, irritation prickling her skin. "Hello? Are you even there?"

Nothing. Not even the telltale "typing" indicator.

Ghosted.

The silence only fueled her determination.

This stranger clearly thought too highly of himself. Probably some spoiled rich boy accustomed to women fawning over him.

Perfect. She needed an outlet for her pent-up frustration anyway.

Her phone glowed in the darkened bedroom as she unleashed a torrent of words.

"Listen kid, ever met someone who makes your blood boil?"

"You're young, so maybe not. But let me tell you about this absolute joke of a man."

"Let's call him The Clown. Because that's what he is - a pathetic, walking circus act."

Across town, Nathaniel's office windows reflected the city's glittering skyline. His phone buzzed incessantly against the mahogany desk.

He should've ignored it. But something made him look.

"The Clown?" His jaw tightened. Was this some elaborate taunt? Did she know it was him?

Vivian's messages kept coming.

"Here's the kicker - this clown knows exactly how toxic his little mistress is, yet he still worships the ground she walks on. Tell me that's not textbook stupidity."

Nathaniel's grip on his phone turned white-knuckled.

"But here's what really kills me," Vivian continued, "I'm over him. So why does it still hurt? Is heartbreak like radiation poisoning or something?"

The words hit harder than they should.

His thumb hovered over the keyboard. What could he say? That Cassandra carried his brother's last wish? That every indulgence was payment for a life debt?

Instead, he turned to the floor-to-ceiling windows. The moon hung heavy and luminous over Newport City.

He snapped a photo. Sent it without caption.

When the image appeared on Vivian's screen, something unclenched in her chest.

"The moon's beautiful tonight," she typed back, surprised by her own sincerity. "Hope he sees it too."

Sleep came easier after that.

Neither acknowledged the unspoken meaning behind those words - the secret language of lovers too afraid to say "I love you" outright.

Some truths were better left floating in the silent space between messages.