Chapter 3: The Secret Vivian Buried
I read the message until the words stopped looking like words.
*Ask her about the first wife.*
The room suddenly felt too quiet.
Outside the guest room window, the Fairchild estate stretched into the darkness. The gardens were perfectly trimmed. The lights along the driveway glowed softly. Everything about this place was designed to look beautiful.
But beauty had always been Vivian’s greatest weapon.
It distracted people from what was underneath.
I looked at the stranger’s number again.
My first instinct was to delete the message.
Not because I didn’t believe it.
Because I did.
And that scared me.
For years, I had accepted that Vivian disliked me because I wasn’t wealthy enough, polished enough, or connected enough. I thought her cruelty came from pride.
But this message suggested something else.
A reason.
A secret.
I typed a reply.
*Who are you?*
The three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then disappeared.
Then appeared again.
Finally, a response arrived.
*My name is Claire Bennett. I was Vivian’s assistant for six years.*
I sat straighter.
Assistant.
Someone who had been close to her.
Someone who had seen the version of Vivian most people never saw.
*Why are you telling me this?*
The answer took longer.
*Because I watched her destroy one woman already. I won’t watch her do it again.*
A chill moved through me.
I looked toward the locked door.
For the first time that night, I wondered if Vivian knew I had the footage.
If she knew I had started asking questions.
If she knew her carefully controlled world was beginning to crack.
Another message appeared.
*Don’t meet me at the estate. She has people everywhere.*
I frowned.
*Where?*
A location followed.
A small coffee shop twenty minutes away.
*Tomorrow. 10 a.m. Come alone.*
I stared at the message.
Come alone.
The words should have worried me.
Instead, they gave me something I hadn’t felt in months.
Hope.
Because for the first time, someone was telling me I wasn’t imagining things.
The next morning, the Fairchild estate looked completely different.
During daylight, the house was even more impressive.
Tall windows.
White stone columns.
Flowers arranged perfectly around every entrance.
It looked like a magazine photograph.
But after last night, all I could see were the cracks.
I walked downstairs and found Daniel sitting at the breakfast table.
He looked like he hadn’t slept.
Neither had I.
“Morning,” he said.
I poured myself coffee.
“Morning.””
The silence between us felt unfamiliar.
We had never been a silent couple.
Even during arguments, Daniel was usually the one who tried to fix things.
But now there was a distance between us that neither of us knew how to cross.
“Emma.””
I looked up.
“I watched the footage.””
My hand stopped around the coffee cup.
Finally.
“And?””
His expression changed.
Pain.
Confusion.
Regret.
All of it mixed together.
“I don’t understand why she did it.””
I almost laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because somehow, even after seeing proof, he was still trying to understand her.
Not me.
Her.
“You saw it?””
“Yes.””
“And you believe me?””
He looked down.
“Yes.””
The word should have relieved me.
Instead, it hurt.
Because I realized something.
I shouldn’t have needed a video recording to be believed by my own husband.
“Daniel—”
“I’m sorry.””
I looked at him.
The apology sounded real.
But real apologies don’t erase patterns.
“I should have trusted you,” he continued.
“Yes.””
“I should have asked what happened before assuming.””
“Yes.””
He nodded slowly.
“I know.””
For a moment, I saw the man I fell in love with.
The man who used to bring me coffee when I worked late.
The man who held my hand during my father’s surgery.
The man who promised me that no one would ever make me feel alone.
Then I remembered how many times he had stood quietly while his mother did exactly that.
“Why?”” I asked.
His eyebrows pulled together.
“Why what?””
“Why did you always believe there had to be a reason for her behavior?””
He didn’t answer.
Because he knew.
Vivian had raised him to protect her.
Not because she asked him directly.
Because she made him feel responsible for her happiness.
“She’s my mother,” he finally said.
I nodded.
“I know.””
“And I can’t just turn that off.””
“I’m not asking you to.””
He looked surprised.
“Then what are you asking?””
I placed my coffee down.
“I’m asking you to stop asking me to suffer just because she’s your mother.””
His face softened.
Before he could respond, Vivian entered the room.
“Good morning.””
Her voice was cheerful.
Too cheerful.
She kissed Daniel’s cheek.
Then looked at me.
“I hope you slept well.””
I held her gaze.
“I did.””
A small smile appeared.
“Good.””
She sat down.
For a woman who had been exposed the night before, she seemed completely calm.
That bothered me more than anger would have.
She didn’t look afraid.
She looked prepared.
“Daniel,” she said casually, spreading jam on toast, “your father’s lawyer called this morning.””
Daniel looked up.
“About what?””
“The estate documents.””
Something flickered across her face.
A warning.
Then she looked at me.
“Family matters.””
The message was obvious.
Leave.
I didn’t.
“What documents?””
Vivian smiled.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.””
Daniel immediately noticed the tension.
“Mom.””
“What?””
“You can’t talk to Emma like that.””
A tiny silence followed.
I watched Vivian carefully.
Because this was new.
Daniel had defended me.
Not perfectly.
Not completely.
But he had.
Vivian noticed too.
Her expression barely changed.
But her eyes did.
Cold.
Calculating.
“Of course,” she said softly.
“I forget that everything I say is now an attack.””
She stood.
“I’ll leave you two to discuss whatever you need.””
Then she walked away.
But as she reached the doorway, she stopped.
Without turning around, she said:
“Emma?””
I looked at her.
“Be careful what doors you open.””
Then she left.
Daniel frowned.
“What was that supposed to mean?””
I didn’t answer.
Because I knew.
She was warning me.
And she was afraid.
The coffee shop was small and quiet.
Nothing like the Fairchild estate.
No marble floors.
No expensive decorations.
Just wooden tables, soft music, and the smell of fresh coffee.
I arrived five minutes early.
Claire was already there.
She looked nothing like I expected.
She wasn’t dramatic.
She wasn’t mysterious.
She looked like an ordinary woman carrying years of exhaustion.
She stood when she saw me.
“Emma?””
“Yes.””
“I’m Claire.””
We shook hands.
Her grip was firm.
“Thank you for coming.””
I sat down.
“You said you knew why Vivian hates me.””
Claire looked around before speaking.
“She doesn’t hate you.””
I frowned.
“Then what?””
“She fears you.””
I almost smiled.
“Why would Vivian Fairchild fear me?””
“Because you remind her of someone.””
The coffee shop suddenly felt colder.
“Who?””
Claire looked down.
“Daniel’s first wife.””
I stared at her.
“Daniel was married before?””
Claire nodded.
“Yes.””
I felt a strange twist in my stomach.
Not jealousy.
Something else.
A realization.
“Why didn’t I know that?””
Claire’s expression turned sad.
“Because Vivian made sure nobody talked about her.””
“Why?””
Claire took a deep breath.
“Because Daniel’s first wife discovered the truth about Vivian.””
“What truth?””
She hesitated.
Then reached into her bag.
She pulled out an old photograph.
She placed it on the table.
My breath caught.
The picture showed a younger Daniel standing beside a woman.
She was smiling.
Beautiful.
Happy.
And standing behind them was Vivian.
Watching.
Not smiling.
“Her name was Natalie,” Claire said.
I looked at the photograph.
“What happened to her?””
Claire’s fingers tightened around her coffee cup.
“Officially?””
She paused.
“She left the marriage.””
“And unofficially?””
Claire looked directly into my eyes.
“Vivian made sure everyone believed that.””
A heavy silence settled between us.
I looked back at the picture.
Daniel’s first wife.
The woman Vivian wanted erased.
“What really happened?””
Claire swallowed.
“Natalie found documents proving Vivian had been hiding money from the family trust.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“She confronted Vivian.””
“And?””
Claire looked toward the window.
“And three weeks later, Natalie was gone.””
My heart started racing.
“Gone where?””
Claire lowered her voice.
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you.””
She reached into her bag again.
This time, she pulled out a small envelope.
“I kept this because I knew someday someone would need to see it.””
I looked at the envelope.
My name was written across the front.
My blood went cold.
“Why does that have my name on it?””
Claire’s face changed.
“Because Natalie wrote it.””
I didn’t move.
I couldn’t.
The coffee shop noise faded around me.
People talking.
Cups clinking.
Music playing.
All of it disappeared.
There was only that envelope.
With my name on it.
Claire pushed it across the table.
“Emma, before you open this…”
She looked terrified.
“Promise me one thing.””
“What?””
“If Vivian finds out you have this, don’t go back to the estate.””
I stared at her.
“Why?””
Claire’s voice dropped to a whisper.
“Because Natalie made the same mistake.””
I looked down at the envelope.
And slowly turned it over.
On the back was a date.
A date from three years ago.
The month before Daniel and I met.
May you like
And beneath it was a sentence written in Natalie’s handwriting:
*If Vivian has chosen you next, you need to know what she did to me.*
