CHAPTER 47
The morning light spilled through the sheer curtains, pale gold across the crumpled sheets. Viv lay half-awake, staring at the ceiling with that still, unreadable expression she always carried—even now, after last night. Beside her, Daphne stirred, a soft groan caught between sleep and reluctant wakefulness.
"Don't tell me you're already thinking about work," Daph mumbled, voice muffled against the pillow.
Viv turned her head, deadpan as ever. "I was considering whether Duke Pudding deserves breakfast before us."
That earned her a groggy laugh. Daphne rolled onto her side, pulling the blanket with her until Viv's shoulder was exposed. "That's cold. The cat before your girlfriend?"
"The cat doesn't hold grudges when I stay up late," Viv replied, perfectly flat—but her lips twitched almost imperceptibly, a micro-smile Daphne was quick to catch.
"Mm. You're lucky you're cute," Daph teased, leaning over to press a kiss against Viv's jaw.
They drifted into the kitchen together not long after, Daphne in an oversized shirt, Viv in a loose cardigan she had tugged on like armor against the domestic softness creeping into her chest. The kettle hissed, boiled eggs, and for once the silence between them was easy, healed. No sharp edges left from the fight, no heavy pauses. Just the comfort of moving around each other like two people who had found a rhythm again.
Daphne set two plates on the table, then leaned against the counter, arms folded, studying Viv as she moved with deliberate precision. "You know," she said casually, "this is almost suspicious. Us, cooking breakfast. Smiling. Being domestic."
Viv glanced up, eyebrows faintly raised. "Suspicious?"
"Mmhm." Daphne tilted her head, lips curving. "Almost like... a test run."
Viv blinked. "Test run for what?"
"For marriage." The word dropped lightly, playfully—but her gaze sharpened, gauging Viv's reaction.
Viv paused mid-motion, strainer hovering. Her expression didn't shift much, but there was a faint tightening around her mouth, the kind only Daphne could catch. "Marriage?" Viv repeated, as if she were rolling a foreign word on her tongue.
"Yes, darling. Marriage." Daphne grinned, teasing, but there was a quiet seriousness beneath it. "You know, rings, vows, arguments about what curtains to buy. That sort of thing."
Viv scooped boiled eggs with almost surgical care, then turned deadpan. "Curtains are a serious matter."
Daph burst out laughing, the sound bright enough to shake away any tension. She crossed the small space and wrapped her arms around Viv's waist, resting her chin on her shoulder. "God, you're hopeless. But I love you anyway."
Viv allowed herself to lean, just slightly, against her. "...Noted."
The morning passed like that—light, easy, punctuated by teasing jabs and quiet touches. For the first time in days, Viv felt the last of the fight dissolve completely.
But elsewhere, another morning unfolded in stark contrast.
Luciana Donnelly sat in the quiet sterility of a rented London flat, pale light painting her sharp profile. A cigarette smoldered untouched in the ashtray beside her laptop. On the screen: endless lines of intercepted junk, drafts of messages she had sent through untraceable services—disruptive spam, fake alerts, fabricated drama. All meant to needle, to plant doubt.
And yet... nothing.
They had gone on a date anyway. She had seen the receipts, the locations, the timestamps. Vivienne Wrenford and her shadow-girlfriend had wandered the city untouched, unshaken. Lux's lips curled, frustration coiling hot and sour in her chest.
"They shouldn't look that happy," she muttered under her breath, scrolling through the photos her hired watcher had delivered. Blurry shots—Viv and Daphne in Hyde Park, side by side on the grass. The faintest silhouette of them by the river at dusk.
And one... Lux's fingers stilled over the mouse.
A grainy capture through a half-open curtain: Daphne and Viv, arms tangled around each other as they stumbled toward the upstairs landing of their flat. Their faces half-shadowed, but the intimacy was unmistakable. Viv's hand on Daphne's back, Daphne's lips brushing her temple.
Lux's chest tightened, then burned. Her nails dug crescents into her palm as she zoomed in, though the photo only blurred further. "So casual," she whispered, venom threading her tone. "So unbothered. Even after—"
Her voice cut off, sharp teeth gritting.
She snapped the laptop shut. The cigarette had burned itself out, ash crumbling into a mess she didn't notice. Lux leaned back, eyes fixed on the ceiling as if she could see through it, across the city, into their warm little kitchen.
"Enjoy it while you can, Vivienne," she murmured. "Let's see how long it lasts."
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