From the outside, Villa Six looked like any other property in the Roland Estate development. Clean lines. Elegant architecture. The kind of quiet luxury that whispered rather than shouted.

Inside, it was a different world entirely.

The gate opened onto a private courtyard, manicured hedges framing a path of Italian stone. Beyond that, a grand pool area stretched toward the horizon, the water so still it mirrored the afternoon sky like polished glass.

And beside that pool, stretched across a cushioned lounger in a black one-piece swimsuit that left little to imagination, lay Vivienne Vanderbilt.

Forty-five years old. CEO of Vanderbilt Media Group. One of the most powerful women on the East Coast.

And utterly, devastatingly beautiful.

The years had been generous to her. Sun-kissed skin. Dark hair swept back, still wet from an earlier swim. A body that curved in ways that made younger women envious and older men forget their own names. She lay with her eyes closed, one hand resting on her stomach, the other holding a glass of chilled rosé.

The click of heels on stone broke the silence.

Vivienne didn't open her eyes.

"He wasn't there?"

The woman who approached... mid-forties, well-dressed, professional in every sense... stopped a few feet from the lounger. Her name was Helena.

Helena Vanderbilt. Cousin. Confidante. Personal assistant for the past twelve years.

She had stayed by Vivienne's side through everything... the boardroom wars, the social bloodbaths, the quiet years after Vivienne's husband passed. Their bond had only deepened since then.

Now she stood with her tablet pressed against her chest, lips pursed, saying nothing.

She didn't need to.

Vivienne's eyes remained closed, but her lips curved faintly.

"Your face says everything, Helena. You look like someone stole your dessert."

Helena stiffened slightly. "I'm not..."

"Disappointed?" Vivienne finally opened her eyes, dark and amused. "Don't worry. I am too. I don't enjoy having my fun delayed."

She took a slow sip of wine, letting the silence stretch.

"But patience is a virtue. And I've always been a patient woman."

***

Three weeks ago, Vivienne Vanderbilt had been exhausted.

Not physically. Physically, she was in better shape than women half her age. But mentally, emotionally, she had reached her limit.

The Blackwood succession war was draining.

Richard, the current frontrunner, was aggressive but unstable. The constant pressure from her own family to support him grew stronger by the day.

Everyone wanted to know which side the Vanderbilts would back.

But she hadn't decided. She refused to decide.

He wasn't worthy. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

She had watched him closely over the years. Beneath the ambition and the bravado, she saw the truth. He was easily led. Easily manipulated. A puppet who didn't know he had strings.

Whoever controlled Richard would control the Blackwood seat. And Vivienne had no intention of betting her family's future on a man who couldn't think for himself.

So Vivienne did what she always did when the world became too loud.

She disappeared.

A vacation. That's what she told her board. Time to think. Time to breathe. Time to escape the endless politics and find some peace.

Helena had found the perfect location. The Roland Estate development. Seven luxury villas on the outskirts of the city. Quiet. Secluded. Far from the social circuits where her every move was analyzed and reported.

Vivienne had wanted the best property. The crown jewel of the development.

But it was already sold.

"To whom?" she'd asked, more curious than annoyed.

"A young man," Helena had replied, checking her notes. "Practically invisible. No family name. No social footprint. Nothing that explains how he could afford a property like this." She looked up. "But there's something interesting."

"Oh?"

"Victoria Blackwood was present at the showing. She accompanied him personally."

Vivienne had set down her wine glass very slowly.

Victoria Blackwood. A woman Vivienne had competed with, clashed with, and respected grudgingly for over two decades.

And she had personally accompanied a young man to buy real estate? Victoria, who avoided public appearances. Who trusted no one. Who let even fewer people close.

She had come herself. For him.

'What is he? A new investment? A business arrangement?' Her eyes narrowed slightly.

'Or something else entirely?'

The predator in Vivienne stirred. Two decades at the helm of a media empire had sharpened her instincts. She found stories where others saw nothing. Sensed secrets before they surfaced.

And right now, those instincts were whispering.

"Tell me more about this young man."

Helena had.

And what she found made Vivienne laugh harder than she had in years.

***

Alexander Hale.

Former scholarship student at Blackwood University. Foster kid. No family. No connections. No money.

And yet somehow, he was now buying properties worth tens of millions, accompanied by one of the most powerful women in the country.

But that wasn't the interesting part.

The interesting part was his history with her daughter's circle.

A poor boy used as entertainment. Betrayed. Humiliated while her own daughter counted points and laughed.

And now he was living in a luxury villa, backed by Victoria Blackwood's money and influence.

Vivienne had stared at the report for a long time, a slow smile spreading across her face.

'Oh, this is delicious.'

She didn't know how he'd risen. She didn't care. What mattered was the opportunity sitting right in front of her.

Victoria had a new toy. A handsome young man with a grudge against the very families Vivienne moved among.

And the idea of taking Victoria's toys for herself? That alone thrilled her.

She looked up and found Helena watching her, the same gleam reflected in her cousin's eyes.

Then Helena's expression shifted. Cautious.

"Vivienne... speaking of Jennifer." She hesitated. "Don't you think she's becoming too willful lately?"

Vivienne's smile faded.

A complicated feeling stirred in her chest. Something between disappointment and cold resignation.

"Let her be."

"But..."

"I said let her be."

Helena fell silent.

Vivienne turned her gaze toward the window, her voice flattening.

"She's been in contact with her uncles. I know. They've been filling her head with ambition she hasn't earned."

The words came out measured. Controlled. But beneath them, something harder lurked.

"She demanded branches to manage. Companies to run. I told her... finish your education. Gain experience. Then you can have whatever you want."

Her jaw tightened.

"But they've poisoned her against patience. Against me. Now she stands with them, pushing for Richard, trying to force my hand."

She was quiet for a moment.

"They think they can break me through my own daughter."

Her eyes turned cold.

"Let them try. And let her learn what happens when she chooses the wrong side."

Helena said nothing.

There was nothing to say.

***

She bought Villa Six the next day. Cash. Full price. No negotiation.

Let the renovations drag out. Let the security upgrades take their time. She wasn't in a hurry.

She wanted to observe first. Learn his patterns. Understand what made him tick.

Then she would introduce herself.

Helena had been confused by the whole thing. "Ma'am, if I may ask... what exactly are you planning?"

Vivienne had smiled, stretching like a cat in the afternoon sun.

"I'm planning to have fun, Helena. Real fun. The kind I haven't had in years."

"With... this young man?"

"With Victoria's young man." Vivienne's eyes had glittered with mischief. "There's a difference."

Helena's lips parted slightly, a question forming that she thought better of asking.

***

Now, lying by the pool, Vivienne swirled the wine in her glass and watched the light play through the liquid.

Helena stood nearby, tablet pressed against her chest like a shield.

"Ma'am... may I ask something?"

"You may."

"Why are you so certain he'll... respond to your advances?"

Vivienne looked at her for a long moment, one eyebrow arching slowly.

Then she sat up, setting her wine glass aside, and gestured at herself. The curves. The skin. The body that had launched a thousand tabloid headlines and broken more marriages than she cared to count.

"Do you think any man can resist this?"

Helena's eyes darted away, her cheeks coloring. She swallowed visibly. "I... suppose not, ma'am."

"You suppose correctly." Vivienne's smile sharpened. "But that's not even the real hook."

"It's not?"

Vivienne stood, walking toward the pool's edge, her reflection shimmering in the still water.

"Do you know what a man likes more than pleasure, Helena?"

Helena shifted her weight, her grip tightening on the tablet. "I... no, ma'am."

"Guilty pleasure."

Vivienne turned back, her eyes gleaming with something dark and knowing.

"Alexander Hale was humiliated by my daughter and her friends. Beaten. Broken. Made to feel worthless by children who had everything handed to them." She tilted her head, studying Helena's reaction. "And now I'm going to offer myself to him. The mother of one of those children. A woman who represents everything that crushed him."

Helena's breath caught. Her eyes widened slightly, understanding dawning.

Vivienne's laugh was low, rich, utterly confident.

"Do you think he'll refuse? Do you think he'll say no to fucking the mother of the girl who counted points while he bled?"

Helena's face flushed deeper. She looked away, unable to hold Vivienne's gaze.

Vivienne didn't need her to.

"He's probably already imagining it. The scenarios. The revenge. The sweet, twisted satisfaction of having me beneath him while knowing exactly who I am."

She picked up her wine glass again, draining the last of it.

"I'm not seducing him, Helena. I'm giving him permission to take what he already wants."

Helena exhaled slowly, her composure cracking at the edges. Her fingers trembled slightly against the tablet.

"And when you're... finished?" she asked quietly.

Vivienne's smile turned razor-sharp.

"When I'm done, I'll make sure Victoria knows every detail."

Then something else seemed to occur to her. A new thought. A sweeter one.

Her lips curved, slow and mischievous.

"And while we're at it…" she added, almost thoughtfully, "perhaps it's time Jennifer learned a little lesson."

The tone was playful. Almost indulgent.

Helena stiffened. She didn't ask for clarification. She didn't need it. She had known Vivienne long enough to understand... competition meant nothing to her. Not blood. Not sentiment. Not even her own daughter.

The afternoon sun caught Vivienne's smile, predatory and patient.

Helena was still staring, shock flickering across her face, when Vivienne reclined once more.

"Now," she said calmly, "have the chef prepare something light. I want to be well-rested for tomorrow."

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