The Billionaire's Sinful Heiress

Chapter 2

The tires of Vivian’s Lamborghini Urus screeched against the marble-finished pavement as she pulled into the West Couture headquarters parking lot.

The morning sun hit the metallic-gray coat of the SUV, causing it to shimmer like a blade. Vivian stepped out, with her sunglasses on, her neatly done hair cascading over her shoulders, she's dressed in a fitted blazer and skirt that screamed money, sexy and defiance.

She slammed the door shut, heels clicking like gunshots as she strutted toward the entrance. She had managed to arrive exactly 10 minutes before her father and that woman he called a wife showed up. She swore never to give George West the satisfaction of seeing her scramble.

The glass doors slid open, and the first person to greet her was Diana, her best friend. Diana rushed toward her with a half-panicked, half-relieved expression.

“I’m surprised you showed up. Knowing you, you wouldn’t even give a damn.”

Vivian smirked, removing her sunglasses dramatically. “It’s the devil we’re talking about, Diana. How can I miss the chance to shame the devil and his antics?”

She winked. “I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Diana snorted. “Hmm, that’s my girl. You see, this why we’re best friends... Coffee’s on your table per usual, boss.” They exchanged a short laugh only two chaotic women like them could understand.

Vivian walked toward the private elevator, head high, her hips swaying with a confidence that made even the walls look twice. She pushed the button and the metallic doors slid open. And there was a man already inside. One of the company’s junior staff. “Good morning, boss” he greeted quickly, eyes widening.

Vivian didn’t respond immediately. Not because she wanted to intimidate him—but because she was checking her reflection on the metallic walls and the lingering bruise on her neck Sean had left earlier that morning. "Damn that punk." she murmured.

The man, suddenly nervous, stepped forward a bit, clutching the files tight against his chest. “Uh... I’m sorry ma'am, I’ll take the stairs... I just needed to get these to Mr. Howard urgently.” he said nicely.

“No, no, don’t leave.” Vivian lifted her head finally, her voice smooth and controlled. “Good morning... Blake" she said, reading the name tag on his shirt. "How are you?"

Blake froze halfway out the elevator. “I’m good, ma’am. Thought… you didn’t want me to use the elevator, I'm so sorry for intruding your space, Mr Howard demanded i bring him these files urgently.” he said smoothly, trying not to piss Vivian off as he had heard so many 'Not-too-good-things' about her.

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk forming. “No, Uhm…” She cleared her throat. “It’s not that. You’re just… looking hot today. What’s the good news?”

Blake blinked twice. “Uhm, really?” Vivian nodded with practiced elegance. She knew she was freaky—but she also knew when not to cross lines. Blake was handsome, but not someone she would ever touch. She wasn’t that stupid.

He laughed awkwardly. “Well, thank you... ma’am. Actually, there’s no celebration. We’re all getting ready to welcome Mr. George West, your father and Madame Gloria. They’ll be here in a few minutes.” Vivian felt her stomach twist, but she didn’t let it touch her face. She simply nodded once, slow and sharp.

George West. And Gloria his wife, also her step mother. The two names that always poisoned her day. The elevator hummed silently as it ascended, but her mind wasn’t quiet.

Her parents… Once upon a time, they were happy. Real happiness. She remembered the warmth, the laughter, the softness of her mother’s hands. Everything changed the night her father shattered that family—the night that led to a divorce nobody considered valid to explain to her.

Few years back. Her mother had been pregnant with her younger brother at the time. Vivian remembered the argument. The broken glass. Her mother’s trembling voice. Her father leaving with the same coldness he uses today.

Barely two months after the divorce, barely two months. George West married Gloria Salvador, a woman who Vivian suspected was her father's long time mistress and the reason why her family shattered. Vivian had done the math a thousand times. Her father must’ve cheated, that had to be why her mother cried herself to sleep every night. Why her mother delivered her baby brother alone. Why her mother died months later because of some health complications and depression, obviously trying to forget about the s**t George had put her through. Her mother's autopsy said she died of drug overdose, but Vivian didn’t believe any of it. 'Cause her mother never did drugs, her mother died of heartbreak. She believed her father tampered with the hospital report, all to keep the public and press away from his ugly ass.

And now, her father wanted her company. He Wanted her to sign away her shares and pretend they were a happy billionaire family. That's Bullshit. Her mother had owned West Couture long before George West even knew how to iron a suit. Vivian and her brother inherited over 60% of the company. George had 30%, and the remaining 10% belonged to the board. He had no control unless she handed it to him. And she swore she never would. The elevator slowed, approaching the top floor. Blake stepped out the moment it opened.

“Have a good day, ma’am...” he said politely before disappearing down the hall. Vivian stepped out—heels clicking majestically, her chin lifted high and composed, ready to storm into her office. But Instead, she stopped. Someone was standing there. And that someone was Michael Spiro. Her useless husband.

Michael leaned against her office doorframe like he owned the place. Tall, polished and handsome in a predictable way—the kind of man fathers approved of. Vivian’s jaw tightened. She approached him majestically, as cinematic tension thickened the air. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, as if he knew what she had been up to

“Where have you been?.”

Vivian smirked, brushing past him as she pushed the door open. “I didn’t realize you were my daddy. Well, hey daddy…” she said in a freaky tone, though she had no intention of having s*x with Michael. In fact, she hated him. She had only married him because it was the only option her father gave her before she could claim her mother’s will. But she wasn’t stupid enough to repeat the same mistakes her mother had made.

Thank God for the prenup. She gets to keep her surname, company shares, and much more if things go sideways. The only reason her father wanted her to marry Michael was because of his family's political influence. Michael’s father wanted his son to marry an heiress to preserve the family legacy.

“Well, yes... I'm your daddy” Michael said, stepping inside after her, trying to get down with her in the office but Vivian's not in the mood. “Get off Michael, you're too old for that” she said, pushing him away. "So, your father is back huh?" Micheal teased trying to piss her off, "You know he expects..."

“My father expects a lot of things” she snapped, placing her bag on the desk. “Most of which I don’t care about.” Michael exhaled deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Vivian… can you at least pretend to behave today? Just for once?”

She turned slowly. That smile, that vicious smile that only Vivian West could deliver surfaced. “Michael…” she said sweetly. “I showed up, didn’t I? That’s the most ‘behaving’ anyone is getting from me today.” He didn’t respond but noticed the bruises on her neck.