Chapter 6
CHAP 6: A LINE IN THE SAND
Two weeks passed. True to her word, my mother made no contact. Vivian, however, was a different story.
Since her social media posts hadn't elicited a public response from me, she decided to change tactics.
I was at home on a Saturday afternoon, helping Daniel catalog some design books in his living room, when his phone rang. He looked at the screen, his eyebrows knitting together.
"It's an unknown number," he said, tapping the speaker button. "Hello?"
"Daniel? Is that you?" Vivian’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and high-pitched, laced with a theatrical tremor.
Daniel’s expression immediately darkened. He reached to hang up, but I caught his hand, shaking my head. I wanted to hear what she had to say.
"Vivian," Daniel said, his voice flat. "How did you get this number?"
"It doesn't matter," she said quickly. "Daniel, please don't hang up. I’m in trouble. I’m at the cafe near your old apartment... some men have been following me, and I’m so scared. I didn't know who else to call. You’ve always been the strongest person I know. Please, can you just come help me?"
I almost laughed out loud. It was the classic damsel-in-distress routine, so poorly executed it was almost comical.
"Call the police, Vivian," Daniel said, not a single shred of sympathy in his voice.
"No! I can't call the police, it’ll cause a scandal, and Mom and Dad are already so stressed—"
"Then call your father," Daniel interrupted. "Or call a cab. Do not call me again. I am blocking this number."
"Daniel, wait!" Vivian cried, her voice dropping the sweet act, turning desperate and sharp. "Why are you doing this to me? What did Claire tell you? She’s lying to you! She’s always been jealous of me, she’s trying to keep us apart because she knows we belong together! She’s holding you hostage with that fake, sweet act—"
"Vivian," I spoke up, leaning closer to the phone.
The line went dead silent for a second.
"Claire?" Vivian spat, her tone instantly dripping with venom. "Are you listening to my private conversations?"
"It's not a private conversation when you call my fiancé on speakerphone in our home," I replied, my voice cool and controlled. "And let’s make one thing very clear: Daniel doesn't want you. He never did. You went on one date years ago, and you abandoned him for someone else. You only want him now because you see that he is successful, handsome, and most importantly, because he belongs to me. You can't stand the fact that I have something you can't have."
"You insignificant little thief!" Vivian shrieked. "You think you’re so special because Grandma gave you that ugly ring? That ring belongs to me! Mom promised it to me! You stole my ring, you stole my fiancé, and you ruined our family Thanksgiving!"
"I didn't steal anything," I said. "Grandma chose to give me the ring because she knows you are incapable of appreciating anything that isn't bought with someone else's money. And as for Daniel, he chose me. He chooses me every single day. You are a sad, desperate woman, Vivian, and I pity you."
"I will destroy you, Claire!" she screamed. "I will tell everyone what you really are! I’ll make sure you never work in this city again! I’ll—"
Daniel took the phone. "We are recording this call, Vivian. If you ever contact my fiancée again, threaten her, or attempt to spread lies about our relationship, this recording will be handed directly to the police along with a harassment lawsuit. Have a nice day."
He ended the call and immediately blocked the number.
He looked at me, a proud smile spreading across his face. "You were incredible."
"I've spent twenty-five years letting her scream at me," I said, a wave of relief washing over me. "It felt good to finally tell her the truth."
"We need to set a date," Daniel said suddenly, taking both my hands in his. "I don't want to wait anymore, Claire. I don't want to give them any more time to plan their next attack. Let’s get married. Next month."
I blinked, startled. "Next month? Daniel, that’s so fast. How will we organize a wedding in four weeks?"
"We don't need a massive, hundred-person circus," he said, his eyes shining with sincerity. "We don't need your mother’s country club friends or your aunt and uncle’s fake smiles. We need you, me, your grandmother, and my parents. We can do a small, beautiful ceremony at the botanical gardens. Just us. What do you think?"
May you like
I thought about it. The idea of a quiet, intimate wedding, surrounded only by the people who truly loved and supported us, felt like a breath of fresh air. No drama, no tension, no walking on eggshells.
"I think that sounds perfect," I whispered, tears of joy filling my eyes. "Let’s do it."
