Echoes of Vengeance: The Sweet Wife's Perfect Revenge
Chapter 67: The Wakeup Call

Chapter 67: The Wakeup Call

At Starlink Apartments,

It was the fourth time he was driving through the same gate. Just to coax Vivienne, who was getting on his nerves.

But he received a message from her in the evening. [Meet me at Starlink.]

Damien drove through the gates with ease, security letting him in without a second glance.

Riding the elevator to the twelfth floor, he entered the security pin, and this time it worked. He stepped inside like he owned the place.

Floor-to-ceiling windows, Italian marble floors, custom lighting systems, and gold-accented interiors, everything inside screamed wealth and perfection.

However, his face was unreadable as he passed through the drawing room, the pristine kitchen, and the guest bedroom. There was no sign of Vivienne on the main floor.

Climbing the stairs, he finally saw her. She was seated on the upstairs couch, swirling red wine in a tall crystal flute. She didn’t look up, didn’t flinch as if she hadn’t heard him enter, as if she didn’t care.

In truth, she had planned every second of this meeting. She was done playing by his rules. She was done being insecure.

"Love..." Damien’s voice softened, and his expression was worried. "How are you?" He sat beside her, fingers gently cupping her face.

Vivienne took a sip of her wine. She didn’t react to his appearance, his touch, or his words.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he kept his cool. "Love, I know you are angry. I shouldn’t have left you alone at the villa. I should’ve come to the station..."

He went on. Apologies, some truths, a lot of excuses, sweet promises. He said he was cool with her retirement from work and supported her decision to join Sinclair Lifestyle. He assured her of handling the PR mess.

Whereas, Vivienne downed the rest of her wine, stood up, and walked towards the bar counter without uttering a word.

His patience cracked. His hand caught her wrist and yanked her to face him. "That’s enough." He snapped.

Vivienne met his eyes and let out a low, unamused snicker. She shrugged off his hand and grabbed a wine decanter to pour another glass.

"Ten minutes, Damien. That’s all it took for you to snap. Ten minutes of silence. Why do I have to live with your neglect for months?"

Turning around, her voice turned icy. "Why do I have to live with your bare minimum efforts?"

She carefully placed the decanter on the counter when Damien closed the space between them in two strides and grabbed her arm again.

"Bare minimum? Vivienne, I married Aveline Laurent because of you. Everything I did, this mess we’re in, it started with you." His restraint was evident. "And you say it’s bare minimum?" He scoffed.

Her tone didn’t rise. She didn’t scream like usual. "I was jealous of her," she admitted. "I ruined everything. You ended up in the police station because of me. Your name, your image, your position... all falling apart."

Damien narrowed his eyes. He didn’t buy it. Not entirely. He held his breath as she continued.

"It’s time we stop, Damien. Before it’s too late. You’re married now. Aveline’s from a powerful family. Accept her. Live your best life." She choked on her words.

His body shook when he heard her. Aveline was the best choice for him, but what about his projects? His plans? His dreams?

"What about us?" He demanded.

"Us!?" Her laughter was empty. "There is no us, Damien. The day we dragged Aveline Laurent into our world, we killed whatever we had."

She turned away, but her words left a chill behind. The despair in her eyes was replaced with darkness that glinted brightly.

"I will divorce her." Damien declared.

She glanced over her shoulder with an unamused smile. "Then what? You’ll marry me? I’ll be labelled the homewrecker. Do you think the Laurents will stay quiet? You think the world won’t see we tricked them?"

They were supposed to bury the news of Damien and Aveline’s wedding with Aveline’s strange illness so that Laurent wouldn’t interfere in their business.

Damien was done thinking. He stormed up to her, "Then what do you want, Vivienne?"

"I want security," she said flatly. "I want attention. I want consistency. I want to matter. I want to stop being this backup plan you pull out of a drawer when you’re bored or guilty."

She wiped a tear that threatened to fall. "I’m tired. Of begging. Of waiting. Of being in a relationship where I feel lonelier than I ever did alone."

Her voice softened as if she had given up on them, "Let’s end it. For good, please..."

No, she didn’t plan a breakup. She was testing him, his love for her.

"No." Damien seized her arms, desperation rising in his voice. "You can’t just walk away. You pushed me into that marriage. Don’t give up on us now. I love you, Vivienne. I promise to fix everything."

Her eyes brimmed with tears, but his words already gave her hope. Hope that he would be hers, no matter what.

Still, she shook her head, "Love isn’t enough, Damien." She sobbed, "Not anymore."

Those weren’t tears of giving up. But rising.

"We’ll figure it out." He brushed her hair away from her face as he cupped her face, "You love me, dammit."

She leaned into his arms, faking her sobs. Her fists hit his back once, twice, but not with force. Her tears soaked his shirt.

And he thought he had her again.

But she let herself break down in his arms, not because she missed him. Because she needed him to believe her.

Then Damien ordered dinner, cajoled her to eat, and then coaxed her to bed. When he tried to leave, she clutched his shirt, murmuring in her sleep, "Don’t go... don’t go..."

So he had to stay, having no idea Vivienne wasn’t asleep at all.

Once his breathing slowed and deepened, she chose to sleep.

....

Downstairs, the front door of the house opened with the keys.

Elliot Sinclair, Vivienne’s father, stepped in. He stormed upstairs, turned on the bedroom light.

He froze, his eyes widened in horror at his sight.

Damien was in bed with his daughter.

"HOW DARE YOU!" Elliot’s voice thundered.

Vivienne bolted upright with a loud gasp. Damien stirred, groggy and disoriented. Until he saw who stood at the door.

Elliot Sinclair was standing at the entrance of the room with his fists clenched and eyes blazing.

"Dad—" Vivienne whispered, panicked.

"You told me it was just rumors!" Elliot shouted at Vivienne. "What the hell is he doing in your bed?"

Damien sat up. His shirt was half-wrinkled, and his hair was a mess. His mind was scrambling for something to say.

Vivienne’s face went pale.

Elliot roared again, "You lied to me, Vivienne. And you..." his glare landed on Damien, "You’re married to someone and you’re sneaking into my daughter’s bed?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

And Damien had no excuse left to give.

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