Chapter 1 - The Shadow in the Mirror
The cool Beverly Hills air swept through the open window, but it did nothing to clear the metallic taste of the sedative lingering on Vivian Albright’s tongue. For fifteen years, her life had been built on a foundation of immaculate glass and carefully managed appearances. She was the woman who hosted the charity galas, matched the charitable donations, and kept the Albright name untarnished in the elite circles of Los Angeles.
Now, her walk-in closet was a hollow shell of empty hangers.
Vivian stood before her full-length mirror, sliding her arms into the sleeves of a bespoke double-breasted black velvet suit. It was sharp, severe, and utterly devoid of the soft pastel silk Christopher preferred his wife to wear. It was armor.
Mrs. Higgins stood by the doorway, holding a silver tray with a fresh cup of black coffee. Her eyes were red-rimmed, heavy with guilt.
— Ma'am, are you sure you want to go out tonight? You're still recovering from whatever was in that soup...
— I’ve rested long enough, Mrs. Higgins, Vivian said, her voice steady, stripped of the polite hesitation that had defined her marriage for a decade. Pour the coffee. Then call Marcus Vance. Tell him I need him at the Pacific Grand Ballroom in forty minutes with the emergency injunction papers we drew up last month.
Mrs. Higgins gasped, her hands shaking slightly. — The injunction? But Mr. Albright—
— Mr. Albright is currently entertaining our former assistant in a custom-tailored gown that cost twelve thousand dollars of joint corporate capital, Vivian replied, turning to meet the housekeeper’s gaze with eyes like chips of flint. He can explain his hospitality to a federal judge.
From the doorway, a soft, deliberate clap echoed through the room.
Luke leaned against the doorframe. At seventeen, he possessed his father’s sharp jawline and chilling intelligence, but none of his vanity. His dark eyes flickered with a quiet, terrifying calm.
— The car is downstairs, Mom, Luke said, holding up a black leather briefcase. And Marcus is already en route. He sounded... delighted. Corporate lawyers love a public execution.
Vivian buttoned her jacket, sliding a pair of diamond-encrusted cufflinks—the ones Brenda hadn't thought to steal from her jewelry safe downstairs—into her cuffs.
— How is the live stream holding up? she asked, walking toward the door.
May you like
— Spectacularly, Luke smirked, tapping the screen of his tablet. Dad just toasted the board of directors with your grandmother's crystal champagne flutes, while Brenda is currently explaining to a society columnist that her vintage diamond necklace was a 'family heirloom.' She’s wearing your great-aunt’s wedding present, Mom. She didn't even bother to change the jeweler's engraving on the back.
Vivian’s lips curved into a cold, humorless smile. — Ignorance is a fatal flaw in a social climber. Let's go teach her how the other half falls.
