Part 22:

Sophie chattering about a school project on planets and asking questions about whether rich people had different gravity in their apartments. Ethan let her talk, enjoying the normaly of his daughter’s rambling theories about penthouse physics. The doorman recognized them now, which was both convenient and slightly surreal.

Evening, Mr. Cole. Miss Sophie, Miss Hart is expecting you. Thanks, Raymond. They rode the elevator up, Sophie bouncing on her toes with barely contained excitement. When the doors opened directly into Viven’s apartment, they found her in the kitchen surrounded by takeout containers and looking adorably flustered.

I may have ordered too much food, she announced. I wasn’t sure what Sophie liked, so I got one of everything. Everything? Ethan surveyed the counter. There had to be 15 containers. The menu was extensive. I panicked. Sophie pushed past him and immediately started opening containers. Ooh, pad thai and spring rolls. And what’s this one? Masaman curry.

It’s mild, I think. The guy at the restaurant promised it wasn’t too spicy for kids. I love spicy. Sophie grabbed a spring roll and bit into it. This is amazing. Can we eat here every week? Sophie, manners, Ethan warned. What? I said please in my head. Vivien laughed and started setting out plates. She’s fine.

And yes, Sophie, you can eat here whenever you want. I like having people around. The apartment feels less like a museum. They ate at the dining table Vivien had probably never used before. Sophie entertaining them with stories about her teacher’s obsession with proper comma usage and her best friend’s theory that pigeons were actually government surveillance drones.

Vivien listened with genuine interest, asking questions and laughing at Sophie’s increasingly elaborate conspiracy theories. “You’re really good with her,” Ethan said quietly while Sophie was distracted, examining the view. “She’s easy to be good with. She’s smart and funny and honest.” Viven squeezed his hand under the table, “Kind of like her dad. I’m not that funny.

You compared my ex to a blown head gasket. That’s comedy gold.” After dinner, Sophie claimed the couch and immediately fell asleep watching a nature documentary about penguins, apparently her current obsession. Ethan covered her with a throw blanket while Viven cleaned up the takeout containers. “She’s out,” he reported, joining Viven in the kitchen. “Good.

I wanted to talk to you about something.” Viven’s expression had shifted to something more serious. The board meeting is next week. They’re voting on the Southeast Asia expansion. That’s good, right? You’ve been working on that for months. It’s complicated. There’s a faction that thinks we’re expanding too fast. They want to slow down, consolidate, play it safe. She leaned against the counter.

If the vote doesn’t go my way, it could undermine everything I’ve been building. What do you need? Honestly, I need to remember why I’m doing this. The company, the expansion, all of it. Lately, it feels like I’m just going through motions because it’s what’s expected. Ethan pulled her close and she melted against him.

So why are you doing it? Because it’s what my father would have wanted. What he spent his entire life building. That’s not an answer. What do you want? She was quiet for a long moment. I don’t know anymore. I used to know. When I took over after he died, it was so clear. Make the company bigger, better, more successful.

Prove I deserve to be there. But now, she pulled back to look at him. Now I spend 80 hours a week in meetings and I come home to an empty apartment and I wonder what the point is. The point is whatever you decide it is. You’re the CEO. You make the rules. It’s not that simple. Why not? Because there are shareholders and board members and 40,000 employees whose livelihoods depend on me making the right decisions.

And what about your livelihood, your happiness? When does that factor in? She didn’t answer. just buried her face against his shoulder. They stood like that in her sterile kitchen, surrounded by empty takeout containers and the quiet sound of Sophie’s breathing from the living room. “I’m tired,” Vivien said finally.

“I’m so tired of performing, of being Vivien Hart, CEO, instead of just Viven.” “So, stop performing. At least when you’re here with me.” I don’t know how. Then learn. We’ll figure it out together. They moved to the living room, careful not to wake Sophie, and sat on the floor with their backs against the couch.

Viven leaned her head on Ethan’s shoulder, and he wrapped his arm around her. “Tell me about your day,” she said. “The real stuff, not the sanitized version.” So, he did. Told her about the van with the mysterious rattle that turned out to be a loose heat shield. About Marcus accidentally ordering the wrong brake pads and having to rush order replacements.

about the customer who tried to argue that oil changes were a scam invented by mechanics to steal money. “What did you tell him?” Vivian asked. “That he was welcome to never change his oil and see what happens. He changed his mind real fast.” She laughed and it sounded lighter than earlier. “I wish I could do that.

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