s legacy, had turned into something far more intricate. Every day, Vivienne Everleigh found new ways to intrude upon his life, testing the limits

er. Her eyes, bright and calculating, followed him whenever he was near. Whether it was at the dinner table when she deliberately chose the seat next to him,

t it was about her that made him feel this way. She was everything he had ever avoided-entitled, manipulative, and rich beyond measu

he faced rejection-a feeling she had never known-and it gnawed at her with an intensity she couldn't ignore. She began to think of Leonhart as a challenge, an obsession

flirtation anym

of the car's engine and the soft music playing in the background. Vivienne, sitting in the backseat, looked at him with a soft, almost vulnerable express

low, almost wistful, "you're always so...

eel. He'd heard it before-her attempts to get him to open up, to

ied, his voice steady but cold

with bitterness. "Your job?" she repeated, the words tasting fore

. He had no intention of getting

wisted sense of entitlement. "You know, it's funny," she said, her voice suddenly sharp. "I've seen the way you look at o

mall crack in his composure. He felt the weigh

e said simply, his vo

and anger passing through them. She opened

lder than before. "You don't need kindness from someone like me. You've had everything h

mperceptible sigh, she leaned back against the leather seat. "You really don't get it, do you, Leonhart?" she whisper

or a moment. "Then why?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper. He

the only person who doesn't treat me like a princess. You're the only o

himself at a crossroads. Was he beginning to understand Vivienne in

again, becoming sharp with frustration. "You're

tered, a side of Vivienne he had never seen befo

inally said, his voice steady. "This is my jo

stared at him for a long moment, before she l

that, somehow, this was far from over. Vivienne wasn't going to gi

changing. And Leonhart couldn't help but wonder if, one day, the