CHAPTER 4:Same Room
1768 Words
The ballroom glittered with obscene wealth.Crystal chandeliers spilled golden light across polished marble floors while classical music floated through conversations between politicians, celebrities, investors, and old-money elites.
Ethan instantly felt out of place.
Everything about this world screamed power.
And he didn’t belong in it.
But Vivian stood beside him effortlessly, one hand resting lightly against his arm while cameras flashed around them.
The perfect couple.
Elegant.
Untouchable.
Entirely fake.
“You’re tense,” Vivian murmured.
“I’m surrounded by people whose watches cost more than my future.”
“Try not to look terrified.”
“I’m considering arson instead.”
That nearly earned another smile.
Nearly.
Guests approached them all evening.
Some polite.
Some fake.
Some openly judgmental.
One older woman looked Ethan over carefully before turning toward Vivian with a delicate smile.
“You’re generous.”
The insult hid beneath polished manners.
Vivian heard it instantly.
So did Ethan.
But before he could respond, Vivian’s voice turned glacial.
“He’s more valuable than most people here.”
Silence spread immediately.
The woman looked stunned.
Ethan looked at Vivian.
Because for one second
She sounded sincere.
The woman excused herself awkwardly and disappeared into the crowd.
Ethan lowered his voice. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Vivian sipped her drink calmly. “I protected the family image.”
Cold words.
Yet her fingers tightened slightly around the glass afterward.
Another contradiction.
Another crack beneath the ice.
A camera flash interrupted them.
Vivian immediately turned toward reporters with a flawless smile.
Perfect performance once again.
But this time Ethan saw it clearly—
The exhaustion hidden underneath.
And suddenly he wondered something dangerous.
How long had she been pretending for everyone around her?
Hours later, after endless conversations and carefully rehearsed affection, Ethan finally escaped onto one of the quieter balconies overlooking the city skyline.
Cold wind brushed against his face.
Peace at last.
Behind him, the balcony door slid open softly.
Vivian stepped outside.
The music faded into distant echoes behind her.
For several moments, neither of them spoke.
The city lights shimmered below like scattered stars.
Then Ethan glanced sideways.
“You can stop smiling now.”
Vivian froze.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Slowly, her expression faded.
And there it was again.
That sadness.
Quiet.
Hidden.
Real.
Ethan looked away politely, pretending not to notice.
But the silence between them felt different tonight.
Less hostile.
More honest.
Then voices drifted faintly from inside the ballroom.
“…She looks unhappy…”
“…Maybe she was forced into it…”
Vivian heard them too.
Her shoulders stiffened instantly.
And for the first time since meeting her—
Ethan saw something crack behind her coldness.
Rain blurred the city into streaks of silver and gold as Ethan stared through the car window, silent beneath the rhythmic tapping against the glass. Below them, traffic crawled through the soaked streets while distant neon signs shimmered like fading stars.
Beside him, Vivian scrolled through messages on her phone, her expression unreadable beneath the shifting glow of passing streetlights. The tension between them still lingered after the gala sharp, uneasy, impossible to ignore but tonight it felt quieter somehow. Less hostile. More dangerous.
The conversation on the balcony had changed something.
Ethan glanced sideways.
Vivian sat perfectly composed, wrapped in an elegant black coat, posture straight as always. To anyone else, she looked untouchable. Cold. Controlled.
But her fingers tapped restlessly against her phone screen.
A tiny nervous habit.
One he probably never would have noticed before.
The driver slowed as the Laurent estate gates emerged through the rain. Thunder rumbled overhead while guards hurried to open the entrance.
“We’re staying here tonight,” Vivian said calmly, not looking up from her phone.
Ethan raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I own another mansion.”
“I’m serious.”
“So am I.”
She exhaled slowly, as though his existence alone drained her patience.
The car rolled to a stop beneath the massive stone entrance. Servants rushed forward with umbrellas while rain hammered against the pavement hard enough to sound like static.
The moment Ethan stepped inside, warmth wrapped around him. Soft golden light reflected across polished marble floors, and somewhere deeper in the estate, faint piano music drifted through the halls.
Rich people truly lived on another planet.
A servant approached Vivian carefully. “Miss Laurent, your room is ready.”
Ethan frowned. “Your room?”
“There’s a plumbing issue upstairs,” Vivian replied while removing her gloves.
“And?”
“And only one bedroom is available tonight.”
Ethan stared at her.
Vivian stared back.
Then, at the exact same time
“No.”
The servant awkwardly pretended not to hear.
Vivian pinched the bridge of her nose. “It’s temporary.”
“This house has, what, forty-seven rooms?”
“Forty-eight.”
“That somehow makes it worse.”
“The guest rooms are under renovation.”
“All of them?”
“Yes.”
“That sounds incredibly fake.”
She looked exhausted already. “Believe whatever helps you survive emotionally.”
Ten minutes later, Ethan stood inside Vivian Laurent’s bedroom feeling deeply uncomfortable.
Not because it was luxurious.
Because it felt personal.
The rest of the estate looked polished and impersonal, like something designed for magazines rather than people. But this room was different. It belonged to her.
Tall bookshelves lined one wall beneath soft amber lighting. Large windows overlooked the rain soaked skyline beyond the estate grounds. A black piano rested quietly in the corner beside scattered sheets of music.
And unexpectedly
The room smelled faintly of vanilla and rain.
Ethan took everything in while Vivian removed her earrings near the mirror.
“You’re staring again.”
“I’m processing the fact that you own a piano.”
Her gaze flickered briefly toward it. “…I used to play.”
“Used to?”
“I don’t have time anymore.”
The answer landed heavier than it should have.
Ethan dropped his bag beside the couch. “I’ll sleep there.”
Vivian immediately looked over. “You don’t need to.”
“I’d rather avoid being murdered in my sleep.”
“You’re dramatic.”
“You threatened my life three times yesterday.”
“Four.”
“Comforting.”
For the briefest second, her lips almost curved upward.
Then she turned toward the wardrobe before he could fully register it.
“The bathroom’s through there,” she said. “Don’t touch anything.”
“I suddenly want to touch everything.”
“I hate you.”
“That sounded emotional.”
Without warning, she threw a pillow at him.
Ethan caught it easily.
“Violence again,” he sighed. “You flirt in a concerning way.”
Her expression froze.
Then sharpened instantly.
“You are unbelievably irritating.”
“And yet here we are. Sharing domestic space.”
“Unfortunately.”
A quiet laugh escaped him.
Vivian glanced toward him and then looked away far too quickly.
As if hearing him laugh affected her more than she wanted it to.
Half an hour later, Ethan emerged from the bathroom wearing dark sweatpants and a loose black shirt borrowed from the estate staff.
Then he stopped.
Vivian sat cross legged on the bed reading through documents, thin-framed glasses resting lightly on her nose.
The sight caught him completely off guard.
Because suddenly she looked younger.
Softer.
Human.
Vivian noticed his silence immediately. “What?”
Ethan blinked. “You wear glasses.”
“That observation didn’t require staring.”
“You look… different.”
She removed them instantly. “Forget you saw them.”
“Too late.”
“I’m serious.”
A faint smirk tugged at his mouth as he walked toward the couch.
Vivian watched him quietly for a moment before speaking again.
“You fight differently from rich students.”
He glanced over. “Meaning?”
“When people insult you, you don’t react normally.”
Ethan shrugged lightly. “You get used to humiliation eventually.”
The words came out too casually.
Vivian studied him more carefully now, as though trying to look beneath the joke.
“That sounds depressing.”
“It saves energy.”
Silence settled between them afterward, softened only by rain against the windows and distant thunder echoing above the city.
Ethan stretched out awkwardly across the couch.
Too short.
Vivian noticed immediately.
“You’re too tall for that.”
“I’ll survive.”
“You said that yesterday too.”
“Consistency builds character.”
She stared at him for another long second before finally saying, “You can use the bed.”
Ethan blinked. “…What?”
“I’m not repeating myself.”
“That sounds dangerous.”
“You annoy me constantly already. One night won’t make a difference.”
He studied her carefully. “You sure?”
Vivian looked away first. “It’s a large bed.”
Somehow that answer made everything feel even stranger.
Still, after a moment, Ethan reluctantly moved onto the opposite side, leaving a careful distance between them.
The mattress was absurdly comfortable.
He hated rich people all over again.
Minutes passed in silence.
Neither slept.
The room remained dim except for pale city light filtering through rain-covered glass.
Then Vivian’s voice cut through the darkness unexpectedly.
“Why did you expose me during the debate competition?”
Ethan stared at the ceiling. “You manipulated statistics.”
“You embarrassed me publicly.”
“You were wrong publicly.”
“You enjoyed it.”
“No,” he admitted quietly. “I just hate dishonest people.”
Vivian fell silent.
Then, after a moment
“You looked at me differently afterward.”
Ethan frowned slightly. “What?”
“At the debate.”
Her voice softened almost imperceptibly.
“Everyone else looked satisfied after I lost.”
She turned toward the window. “You looked disappointed.”
He remembered it clearly now.
Vivian standing alone on stage while whispers spread through the auditorium like wildfire.
Beautiful.
Humiliated.
Completely isolated.
“I thought you were better than that,” he said honestly.
The silence afterward felt heavier than before.
Not angry.
Just painfully sincere.
Vivian pulled the blanket closer around herself. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Ethan looked toward her.
She kept her face turned away, but something vulnerable lingered beneath her voice.
And suddenly he understood something important.
Vivian Laurent had probably spent her entire life surrounded by people too intimidated to be honest with her.
For reasons he couldn’t explain, that realization hurt.
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