Vivian’s Last Attempt

Drake Hawthorne stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of his penthouse, watching the city below, his thoughts heavy with the weight of everything he was losing. The world outside seemed as relentless as the pressures mounting within him—his father's demands, his crumbling empire, and the unresolved feelings toward Mila that complicated everything. The city lights glittered like stars against the dark sky, but to Drake, they felt distant, cold, and unreachable.

Just as his thoughts began to settle into a dull ache, the sharp knock on his door cut through the silence. Without turning from the window, Drake's shoulders tensed. He hadn't been expecting anyone. A part of him hoped it was Mila—though he knew it wasn't.

The door opened, and in walked Vivian Hawthorne, unannounced and as poised as ever. Her entrance was smooth, confident, like a practiced performance. Every inch of her screamed wealth, elegance, and power—the kind that had once captivated Drake but now felt hollow.

Vivian, stunning as always, wore a sleek, perfectly tailored dress, her blonde hair cascading down her back in immaculate waves. On the outside, she was flawless, but Drake could sense the desperation lurking beneath her calm demeanor. He didn't turn to greet her, keeping his gaze fixed on the distant city skyline, his reflection faint in the glass.

"Drake," Vivian said softly, her voice slipping into that familiar seductive tone, smooth as velvet. She leaned against the doorframe, casting him a smile meant to disarm, meant to remind him of what they had once shared. "I've been thinking a lot about us lately."

Drake exhaled, his jaw tightening. He knew exactly why she was here. Vivian had been watching him from a distance ever since their breakup, waiting for the right moment to reinsert herself into his life. And now, with Hawthorne Industries faltering and Drake clearly vulnerable, she saw her chance.

She took a step closer, the click of her heels echoing off the marble floors. "We had something special, didn't we? Maybe it's time to reconsider what we had. We could be a real force together—you know that."

Drake's fingers drummed against his thigh, tension mounting as he kept his back to her. He didn't want to hear this. Not now, not ever. But he knew Vivian too well. She wasn't the type to let go easily, especially not when there was something in it for her. The thought of being pulled back into her world—one of status, manipulation, and control—made his stomach churn. It was a world he had outgrown, a world he had no desire to return to.

Vivian's voice dropped to a sultry whisper as she moved even closer, her perfume drifting through the air. "I can help you, Drake. You're going through a rough patch right now, but together, we can fix it. You don't need Mila. She's just using you. I've always been the one who understood you."

At the mention of Mila, something inside Drake snapped. The emotions he had been trying to suppress, the conflict he had been wrestling with for weeks, all rose to the surface. He turned away from the window, finally facing Vivian, his expression hard and resolute. But what surprised her wasn't the anger in his eyes—it was the sadness.

"Vivian," he said, his voice heavy with finality, "we're done. We've been done for a long time. Whatever we had, it's not coming back."

Vivian's smile faltered, the practiced seduction slipping for the briefest moment. She had always been able to charm her way through any situation, and until now, it had always worked with Drake. But something was different this time. She wasn't reaching him the way she used to. "Drake, don't be foolish," she said, her tone hardening slightly as she fought to keep her composure. "You're choosing her over me? After everything we had?"

Drake shook his head, his voice quieter but no less firm. "This isn't about Mila. It's about us. What we had—it wasn't real. It was based on status, power... convenience. We were never right for each other, and I think we both know that." He took a breath, running a hand through his hair. "I've moved on. And you should too."

Vivian's mask slipped completely then, her face twisting in anger. For a moment, the calm, poised woman she always portrayed herself to be was gone, replaced by someone desperate to hold on to a life that was slipping through her fingers. "You'll regret this, Drake," she hissed, taking a step back. "You think Mila is the answer? She's going to ruin you. She's using you to get what she wants, and once she's done, she'll throw you aside like everyone else."

Her words cut through the air like a blade, but Drake didn't flinch. He had heard enough. Vivian was right about one thing—Mila had been his enemy, his rival in this ruthless game of corporate chess. But what Vivian didn't understand was that Mila was different. What they had between them wasn't just about power or control. It was something far more complex—something that scared him, but something he knew was real.

"Goodbye, Vivian," he said, his tone final.

Vivian's eyes narrowed, her face hardening into a mask of cold fury. She had lost, and she knew it. With one last sharp glance at Drake, she turned on her heel, her stilettos clicking angrily against the marble as she stormed out of the penthouse.

As the door slammed shut behind her, Drake exhaled, the tension in his body slowly releasing. For the first time in what felt like weeks, he felt a sense of finality. Vivian was gone, and with her, the last remnants of the life he had once lived—a life built on manipulation, on false alliances, on appearances. But that life no longer served him. It was a relic of a version of himself he no longer wanted to be.

Drake turned back to the windows, looking out over the vast city that had been his playground, his battleground, and now his test. Vivian's parting words echoed in his mind—her warning about Mila, about how she would ruin him, use him, discard him. But Drake knew better. Mila was no Vivian. She wasn't interested in status or control the way Vivian had been. Mila was real. She was his equal, someone who challenged him, pushed him, and forced him to confront the parts of himself he had always hidden away.

He had spent so much time fighting against her, against the pull he felt toward her. But now, as Vivian walked out of his life for good, Drake realized something else: Mila wasn't his enemy anymore. She was the one person who could see him for who he really was—flaws and all. And that terrified him.

But it also gave him something he hadn't had in a long time—hope.