Rising from Betrayal

Chapter 007

In the lobby of Grand Corholt Tower, the night air drifted in through the automatic glass doors every time someone passed, carrying with it the smell of rain that had just let up and the damp scent of the city.

Vivienne stood near the entrance, one hand on her bag, the other scrolling through her phone. Her lips were still slightly tight from the anger upstairs, but her eyes were already bright with an anticipation she couldn't quite hide.

Headlights swept across the lobby from outside.

A black Bentley Continental pulled up directly in front of the entrance. Smooth, silent, chrome rims catching the glow of the streetlights. The driver's door opened.

Nathan Voss stepped out.

Tall, with broad shoulders that filled a tailored dark grey suit perfectly. His hair was dark brown, neatly styled with one strand left to fall across his forehead—deliberate, but not overdone.

A strong jaw. Brown eyes that had a habit of looking at a person as if they were the only one in the room. The Patek Philippe on his left wrist caught the light as he adjusted his cuff.

He looked at Vivienne, and his smile appeared. Warm, familiar—like someone who had just found something they'd long been missing.

"Viv," he said warmly, using the nickname only those closest to her ever did.

“It’s been too long. I’ve missed you.”

Then his eyes briefly scanned the lobby behind her—the elevator, the staircase, the waiting area.

"Where's Norman?" he asked. "He didn't come down with you?"

Vivienne let out a quiet scoff. "He threw a fit upstairs. Apparently I’m not allowed to spend one evening with old friends."

She rolled her eyes.

Nathan’s expression immediately softened.

“Then I should probably go upstairs and apologize.”

He smiled apolagetically, “I never intended to cause trouble between the two of you.”

Nathan kept smiling.

Inside, however, he almost laughed.

He knew exactly why Vivienne had reached out.

She'd never really gotten over him.

Tonight's reunion with old friends was nothing more than a convenient excuse.

Deep down, she’d wanted to see him, which was exactly why he'd insisted on picking her up himself tonight.

Ideally, Norman would’ve come downstairs.

He'd have loved nothing more than to shake his hand, smile politely... then drive away with his wife and fuck her later.

Sometimes the deepest humiliation required no insults at all.

Just watching another man take your place was enough.

The thought alone sent a thrill down Nathan’s spine.

Vivienne shook her head, the irritation on her face still obvious.

“Forget it. You don’t owe him an apology. Let’s go. I don’t want to see him again tonight.”

“If that’s what you want.” Nathan gave a helpless smile.

A pity.

He’d been looking forward to seeing Norman’s face.

Still... there would be plenty of opportunities later.

Men like Norman never fought back.

They swallowed their pride, convinced themselves they were "being mature," and quietly endured whatever was thrown at them.

Nathan knew the type all too well.

"Come on." He extended his hand, palm facing up, his smile warm as ever. "By tomorrow morning, he'll probably have forgotten all about it."

Vivienne looked at his hand for a brief moment before slipping hers into his.

Nathan was right.

Norman had never stayed angry at her for long.

She wouldn't even need to wait until tomorrow.

Half an hour at most, and he'd come to her with that guilty look on his face—like a scolded child—and apologize first.

So why should she waste a single thought on a man like that?

Nathan walked her toward the Bentley, opening the door for her with a movement so natural it looked effortless.

Handsome. Confident. Decisive. Considerate.

This, Vivienne thought, was what a real man looks like.

Not Norman, who was dependable and predictable.

But there wasn’t a single thing exciting about him.

Nathan was different.

He always knew what she wanted before she had to say it.

The Bentley’s door closed softly.

The engine turned over—barely a sound—and the car glided out from Grand Corholt Tower, heading toward the Imperial Lounge, where their old friends were already waiting.

Vivienne leaned her head back against the seat, watching the glittering lights of Corholt drift past through the window.

Not once did she look back.