The grand living room of Vivian's mansion gleamed under the light of an opulent chandelier.
Everything about the space screamed luxury, from the marble floors to the designer furniture.
But none of it impressed Ethan as he stood there, his face tight with rage and his fists clenched.
"Where is she?" he demanded, his voice sharp and filled with barely controlled anger.
Vivian, lounging on the plush velvet sofa with a glass of wine in hand, looked up at him, startled by his tone. Then she rolled her eyes, setting the glass down on the coffee table.
"What on earth are you talking about, Ethan? Who's 'she'?"
"Charlotte," Ethan barked. "Where is Charlotte?"
Vivian blinked in confusion before letting out a mocking laugh.
"Charlotte? That little nobody? Why on earth would you think I know anything about her?"
