Chapter 5

Vivienne's POV

The following morning, I tried to leave for the office.

In the garage, Lucas's head of security was standing directly in front of my car.

"It's Mr. Holt's order. Your hand is injured and you need to rest."

He kept his head slightly bowed. His tone was respectful and immovable in equal measure.

"The deputy director will handle company matters for the time being. Your presence isn't required."

Rest.

That was house arrest.

"Move."

I pressed the key fob for the sports car - the one I had purchased under my own name.

Nothing happened.

The guard offered a mild explanation. "All vehicles are currently undergoing GPS maintenance. They can't be started at this time."

He was cutting off my legs.

I went back inside to the study, opened my laptop, and logged into the family trust's black account. I wanted to trace Bianca's arrangements - the renovation costs for the Vivienne suite had to have come from here.

I hit enter.

A large red warning box filled the screen.

"Administrator has revoked your access permissions."

He was shutting down my information channels.

That account had always been completely open to me. He'd told me once, what's mine is yours - you can move anything in the Holt Group, anytime.

I took out my phone, switched to a personal backup SIM, and tried to call a rideshare.

"Transaction failed. Card has been frozen."

I tried three more cards. Every single one declined.

A text from the bank followed immediately:"Per account holder request, your supplementary cards have been suspended."

I checked the Wi-Fi signal. Even the home network password had been changed.

Lucas was telling me something very clearly: without him, I was nothing.

In this city, with no money, no car, no access to information, I was completely immobilized.

This wasn't punishment. This was conditioning.

He wanted me docile. Dependent. Grateful for scraps.

I threw my phone onto the sofa.

You think you can cage me? Lucas, you've badly underestimated someone who clawed her way out of the gutter.

The study door opened.

Lucas walked in, a freshly lit cigar between his fingers.

"Why did you cut off my access?" I demanded.

He took a slow drag. The smoke curled between us, obscuring his expression.

"Vivienne, you don't need to dirty your hands with people like that."

He walked to the shredder beside the desk, picked up the second divorce agreement I had left on the table.

"Stay home, let me handle what needs to be handled, and everything goes back to normal."

He laid down the law about staying home like he was scolding a dog that had slipped its leash.

"Your cards will be unfrozen. I'll have my assistant handle it."

Back to normal.

Back to being your blind, deaf, obedient little wife?

A mechanical whir.

He fed the divorce papers into the shredder.

Over the grinding of the machine, he said it again.

"I told you. Until that grave is filled, this marriage stays intact."

The shredder went quiet.

The study was dead silent.

Those strips of paper were my last legal way out.

If the legal route was blocked, and the financial pressure was already applied, then there was only one option left.

The oldest trick in the book.

Something had to bleed before he would wake up.