Bitter Vows, Sweet Revenge

Chapter 4: She's Back

The doctor's diagnosis bought her a few precious days. Aria feigned compliance, allowing the nurses to fuss over her while her mind raced, plotting. The passport for the US, a relic from a time when she'd naively dreamed of a fresh start after the divorce, was already secured. That, at least, was one less hurdle.

She had underestimated Julian. He hadn't just left a guard; he'd assigned her a warden. The woman, a stern-faced caregiver named Ms. Finch, shadowed her every move. She was a silent, impassive presence, anticipating Aria's desire for escape before it could even form into a coherent thought.

As the days passed and her body healed, the terror grew. Every white coat that passed her door made her flinch, her body tensing for the moment they would drag her to the operating room.

Then, one morning, she woke to find Ms. Finch standing over her bed, her expression unreadable. Aria's heart seized. This was it.

"Miss Thorne," the woman said, her voice flat. "Mr. Sterling just called. He is on his way to pick you up. You are to be ready."

"What?" Aria sat up, confused. "Pick me up? For the surgery?"

Ms. Finch ignored the question and began efficiently packing Aria's few belongings. Defeated, Aria allowed herself to be led out of the hospital, a sliver of desperate hope flickering within her. Anywhere was better than here.

Julian was waiting in the back of a town car, his expression tightening as she slid in opposite him. As the car pulled away from the curb, Aria finally worked up the courage to speak.

"Where are we going?"

"Vivienne is back," he said, not looking at her. "She wants to see you."

The name struck Aria like a physical blow. It echoed in the claustrophobic silence of the car, a high-pitched ringing in her ears. For two years, Vivienne's name had been a forbidden word to Julian. To Aria, it had been a recurring nightmare. To speak it was to unlock the past, to remember...

She could see her sister's angelic face, the saccharine-sweet smile. She could hear the cloying voice calling her "sister," a sound that crawled over her skin like an insect.

Two years. Vivienne had been gone for two whole years. Why was she back now? What new game was she playing?

"Why... why does she want to see me?" Aria's voice trembled.

For the first time, a flicker of emotion crossed Julian's face—a deep, protective ache. "She came back for her family, Aria. And despite everything, she still considers you her sister. So, I expect you to be on your best behavior. If you upset her again, I will not be so lenient this time."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. "Vivienne has been through enough. If you have any decency left, you will know what not to say in front of her." As he spoke, his eyes flickered down to her stomach, a clear and chilling threat.

The hope that had sparked in Aria's chest was instantly extinguished, replaced by a cold dread that started in her feet and crept up her spine.

The car turned into a familiar, manicured neighborhood, stopping outside the grand house she had once called home. Her home. Bitterness coated her tongue. In the two years since the "incident" that had driven Vivienne away, Aria had never once been invited back, not even for holidays. Julian, of course, had been a frequent visitor.

She was the daughter, yet she was the outsider. Since her mother's death, this house held nothing for her but ghosts.

"Get out. Vivienne is waiting," Julian snapped, his patience wearing thin.

An unfamiliar maid led them inside. Before they even stepped into the living room, a wave of bright, happy laughter washed over them. Aria instinctively slowed, falling a step behind Julian's imposing frame.

"Julian, you're here!" Vivienne's voice was exactly as she remembered—the innocent, harmless lilt of a young girl. The affection in her tone was unmistakable.

"I promised I'd be here for dinner," Julian's voice softened completely. "And I brought your sister. She was in the hospital, not feeling well."

At the mention of Aria, the cheerful atmosphere in the room evaporated. A sudden, heavy silence fell as every eye turned to her, lingering in the doorway. She looked first to her father, Marcus, and saw him offer a strained, apologetic smile.

The familiar ache of disappointment bloomed in her chest.

"Sister! You're finally back!" Vivienne exclaimed, feigning surprise. She began to move towards Aria, her hands pushing the wheels of a wheelchair.

Aria saw it then. Her mouth fell open in shock, but no sound came out.

Her reaction seemed to wound Vivienne, who stopped a few feet away, her head bowed in a perfect picture of hurt fragility. "My legs..." she began in a choked whisper, but was immediately cut off.

"Do you have to be so cruel, Aria?" Julian shoved Aria aside, kneeling in front of Vivienne's chair, his voice a soothing balm of concern. "Are you alright?"

Aria stood frozen, a hot flush of shame creeping up her neck as she watched Julian comfort her "good sister."

Finally, her father, Marcus Thorne, cleared his throat, desperate to smooth over the tension. "Alright, everyone's here. Let's have dinner, shall we? It's been too long since we were all together."

"Yes, two years," her stepmother, Tina, chimed in from the table, her eyes like poisoned darts fixed on Aria. "Two years my poor baby has suffered, all while being kind enough to invite certain people back into her home, only to be bullied."

Marcus fell silent. Julian, already carefully pushing Vivienne's wheelchair to the table, ignored the comment completely. Aria was left standing alone, an island in her own family.

Forcing back the sting of tears, she ignored her stepmother and took the only empty seat at the table.

The meal began in a strained silence, broken only by Vivienne.

"Sister," she said, her voice dripping with manufactured innocence. "I heard you and Julian got married... Have you two been happy these past two years?"

Vivienne wasn't going to let her off easy. She knew perfectly well that Aria's grandfather had used a business deal to force Julian's hand after Vivienne left. It was the very reason she had supposedly fled the country. But now, she asked the question with a bland, guileless curiosity, as if she knew nothing at all.