Chapter 28 · The Heir's Choice

The microphone sat on her father's desk like a loaded gun.

Vivian could hear the static hum. Could feel the weight of a city listening. Somewhere out there, in drawing rooms and hotel lobbies and corner diners, people had their ears pressed to radio sets. Waiting for the Ashford heiress to destroy herself.

Philip stood by the window, her father's medication in his hand. He was smiling.

"Go on," he said. "Tell them what really happened that night in Vienna."

Her father made a sound behind her. A wet, struggling breath. She didn't turn around. Couldn't.

Silas stepped forward. "Don't do this."

"Stay out of it," Philip said. His voice was light. Pleasant. "You've done your part, Mr. Crane. Or should I say, whoever you really are. The city's listening. They want the truth."

Vivian's hands were shaking.

She'd spent seven years building a wall around that night. Brick by brick. Lie by lie. And now Philip was asking her to tear it down in front of everyone who mattered.

James was somewhere behind her. She could feel him there, silent. Probably hating her already.

"Vivian." Her father's voice was barely a whisper. "Please.