I Built Her Empire — Then I Buried It

09. Young master Adrian

Vivienne sat in her office, surrounded by a mess of invoices, tax forms, and spreadsheets she barely understood, and felt, for the first time in years, genuinely out of her depth.

She had never had to do this herself. Mikael had always handled the parts of the business that actually required patience — reading the fine print, catching the errors, making sense of numbers that seemed to rearrange themselves the longer she stared at them. She hadn't realized, until this exact moment, how much of her success had quietly depended on someone else doing the hard part while she took the credit for the results.

Lucas was out of the question. He couldn't read a balance sheet if his life depended on it, and asking him would only mean explaining everything twice and getting nothing useful back either time.

Hiring an accountant crossed her mind, but she dismissed it almost as quickly. With four lost partnerships behind her and the Amora Group still ignoring her calls, her finances weren't in a place to comfortably absorb another salary — not one for someone actually competent, anyway.

She shoved the papers aside with a frustrated huff. "Ugh!"

Her phone rang a moment later, an unfamiliar number lighting up the screen. She almost let it go to voicemail. Then, mostly out of boredom and frustration, she answered.

"Vivienne speaking. Who is this, please?"

"Madam Vivienne, I sincerely apologize for bothering you so early," a smooth, professional voice said. "I'm calling regarding a very important matter, and I'd appreciate a moment of your time."

"Who is this?" she asked again, sharper this time, patience already thin from the morning she'd had.

"I'm calling about your husband, madam."

Vivienne went still, papers forgotten entirely.

"My husband?”

"Yes, ma'am. Young Master Adrian. I am his butler."

"Young... master?" Vivienne's eyes widened. She knew Lucas came from money — enough to explain the watches, the car, the easy way he moved through expensive rooms — but she had never once considered that his family might have staff. A butler implied something else entirely. Something bigger.

"Yes, madam. We've been searching for our young master for quite some time now, and I've only recently discovered that you're his wife. I'm hoping you'll help us."

"Help you how?" she asked, already sitting up straighter.

"His father would like him to return home. There is a compensation of fifty million dollars waiting for him, if he chooses to come back, along with the expectation that he take over as head of his father's company."

Vivienne's mouth went dry.

Fifty million dollars. A company. All of it attached to a man she'd been quietly reconsidering for weeks — a man she had slowly started to resent, in small, private ways, for how little he contributed and how often he disappeared without explanation.

She hadn't had the slightest idea.

"Of course," she said, her voice suddenly warm, eager, entirely transformed. "I'll do whatever I can. In fact, we're getting married in just a few days. Please, come. All of you. I'd love for his family to be there."

“Of course madam, I'll relay your message.”

By the time the call ended, Vivienne was practically vibrating. She spun once in her office chair, laughed out loud at nothing, and pressed both hands to her mouth like she was trying to physically contain the excitement.

She'd hit the jackpot. She was sure of it now.

That evening, she booked a table at the most expensive restaurant she could get into on short notice — candles, roses, the whole arrangement — and waited for Lucas with an excitement she hadn't felt in months.

He arrived looking, if anything, mildly irritated by the effort. "What's this for?" he asked, glancing at the roses like they were an inconvenience rather than a gesture.

She considered telling him the truth. But the butler's voice kept echoing in her head — ‘we've been searching for him’— and something about that phrasing made her wary. If his family had been looking for him and he still hadn't gone home on his own, maybe he didn't want to be found. Maybe telling him now would only give him time to refuse before she could get everyone in the same room.

Better to surprise him. Better to make sure the wedding happened first.

"It's a celebration," she said instead, smiling brightly. "Our last dinner as boyfriend and girlfriend. After this, you know every meal will be as husband and wife."

Lucas managed a smile, but it didn't last at all.

The rest of dinner passed in stilted, uncomfortable silence. Vivienne tried three separate times to start a real conversation — about the wedding, about their future, about nothing in particular — and each attempt died against Lucas's flat, one-word answers. Halfway through the main course, he set down his fork.

"I need to go," he said, offering nothing else, and left before she could even ask why.

Vivienne sat alone at the table for a moment, roses and half-finished wine between her, and felt the familiar sting of irritation rise in her chest.

Then she remembered the fifty million dollars, and the irritation dissolved into something closer to satisfaction.

She went home that night thoroughly pleased with herself, mentally replaying, as she so often did lately, every reason she'd been right to leave Mikael behind.

---

Across town, in a house that had spent the last several days simmering with tension, the butler cleared his throat in the doorway of the study.

"Sir. We've found the young master's wife. She promised to help us convince the young master. She even extended invites to the wedding for the whole family."

Adrian's father sat up straight in his chair, something like disbelief crossing his face. "My boy is getting married?"

"Yes, sir."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across the old man's face. "Well then," he said. "It's a must we attend.”