Vivian
The photo hit my i********: feed like a slap. Dominic Sterling – my Dominic – holding some woman in a cheap dress like she was precious. His smile, the one I'd spent years trying to earn, came so easily for her.
"Impossible," I whispered, manicured nail tapping my phone screen. The bar's lighting was terrible, but there was no mistaking that profile. Those shoulders. That protective stance I knew so well.
My Paris apartment suddenly felt suffocating. Five years I'd spent building my empire here – magazine covers, runway shows, perfume lines. And for what? While I conquered Europe, some nobody had stolen my life back home.
My fingers trembled as I dialed Henry's number. He answered on the third ring, voice cautious. "Vivian. This is... unexpected."
"Henry, darling!" I kept my vo
