Vivica's POV
“Owen, I really like it,” Delilah said sweetly. “Buy me the same necklace, will you? Then I can die without regrets.”
Owen chuckled softly and pulled her closer. “Don’t say things like that. Besides, that necklace isn’t worth anything.”
Then he turned to me. “Vivica, since she wants it, just give it to her.”
For a moment, I didn’t even know how to respond.
From the age of eighteen, I’d followed him without asking for a title. Five years of keeping our relationship underground, we’d tried everything lovers could try. He liked me in spaghetti-strap dresses, so I stopped wearing my usual white T-shirts. He wanted the thrill of secrecy, so I stayed hidden for him.
But at that moment, standing there, I realized that the love I had cherished for five years meant absolutely nothing to him.
Still basking in his affection, Delilah grabbed his collar and, encouraged by the crowd, kissed him.
Yet, I didn’t cry. I didn’t argue. I simply unclasped the necklace, placed it on the table, and said, “Mr. Chase is right. It’s not worth much. You can have it.”
Owen’s eyes locked onto me, burning with anger. He only loosened his grip on his glass when Delilah complained that he was hurting her.
He let out a cold laugh and said, “Since Vivica is so generous, Delilah, go ahead and take it.”
Delilah picked up the necklace, turned it over a few times, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s not even that pretty. It’s nothing like the things you’ve given me.”
With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it to the cleaning lady, clearing the table. “Lucky you. Maybe you can sell it for a few bucks.”
I watched as my necklace landed among leftover food scraps, and my entire body went cold.
Owen glanced at my pale face and said, voice clipped, “What are you standing there for? Tonight, we’re celebrating my wedding. Everyone drinks. No one leaves early.”
But my voice was barely steady as I refused, “No need. You all have fun. I have something to do.”
The moment I finished speaking, his expression darkened. Still, I ignored him and walked out of the private room.
When I reached the parking area of the villa, my phone was still empty. No messages. No explanation. Nothing from Owen.
But he did post on his social feed.
I opened it instinctively. It was a video where he and Delilah were biting the same cookie, pushed by the crowd to kiss. When their lips met, everyone cheered, saying how tragic their five years apart had been.
No one knew about Vivica Rhodes, who had been hidden for those same five years.
In the video, Delilah blushed prettily and kissed his throat. Owen didn’t push her away and even looked at her with that wild, dangerous look in his eyes, which was how he looked in bed when he lost control.
Once, that look had belonged only to me. Now it belonged to her.
Owen, if this were your choice, then I’d give you what you want.
I let out a sharp, bitter laugh and liked his post.
After that, I quietly gathered all my belongings from the villa.
Over the years, I’d begged him more than once to make our relationship public. Sometimes sweetly, sometimes threatening, sometimes half-conscious in his arms after we’d exhausted each other, always asking when we would go public.
And every time, he found a new excuse.
But when Delilah appeared, he took her to meet his closest friends, let them curry favor over her, and publicly announced their marriage.
At that moment, everything finally made sense.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go public with me. He simply didn’t love me.
After packing up the last of my things, I went back to my own apartment.
The moment I opened the door, my parents video-called from abroad.
“Sweetheart, do you still remember Caleb, the boy who grew up with you? He recently came back to the country. You two should meet up when you have time.”
During my years with Owen, my parents had introduced me to all kinds of good men.
