Chapter 17: Mine to Keep
Evelyn didn't know where she was going—only that she couldn't stay another moment in that room, listening to Reginald spit out half-truths and venom, as if he hadn't built everything on the back of her sacrifice. Her steps echoed through the hallway like war drums, steady and certain, though her heart was unraveling inside her chest.
She needed air. She needed warmth.
She needed Vivienne.
The corridor blurred around her, her vision stinging with unshed tears. The anger, the betrayal, the exhaustion—it all tangled together in her throat like a scream she refused to release. Her fingers shook as she reached for the doorknob, and when she pushed it open, Vivienne's scent, her presence, her quiet gravity, filled the space and steadied Evelyn's storm.
Vivienne was seated at her desk, barefoot in a velvet robe, her hair loosely tied back, head tilted as she scribbled something in a notebook. The moment she looked up, her expression shifted—soft concern blooming behind her gray eyes. She didn't need to ask. She knew.
"Eve, Evie my darling?" Vivienne's voice was a murmur, laced with worry, barely rising above the gentle crackle of the fireplace.
Evelyn didn't speak. She crossed the room, knees weakening with every step, and sank into the cushioned armchair near the bed. Her shoulders sagged. Her hands gripped the armrests like she needed to anchor herself to reality.
"Then she sat on her lap like she used to, hugging her neck and nuzzling against her, murmuring softly."
"I can't…" Evelyn finally breathed, trembling. "I can't do this anymore."
Vivienne froze for a moment, then gently shifted, bringing her hands up to cup Evelyn's cheeks as she leaned in closer, her voice soft but filled with concern. Her touch was warm and certain, as though she could heal her with nothing more than that.
"What did he say to you?" she asked gently. "What did he do?"
Evelyn exhaled shakily. "He demanded I divorce you. Again. Said you were nothing. That you couldn't offer anything to me, or to Eva. That all I was good for was my name. My legacy."
Vivienne's jaw tensed, but she didn't let go. Her thumb brushed a tear Evelyn didn't even realize had fallen. "And what did you say to him?"
"I told him the truth," Evelyn murmured. "That I never loved him. That he used me. That I left Maxwell not for love, but to be his damn shield. To keep the others from tearing him apart when he claimed the heir's seat. I told him Eva isn't his. That she never was."
Vivienne leaned in, resting her forehead against Evelyn's, the intimacy grounding them both. "You said all that?"
"I did," she whispered. "And I meant every word."
They stayed like that for a moment—forehead to forehead, breath mingling, their silence deeper than any conversation could be. Evelyn's hands rose slowly, fingers threading into Vivienne's loose hair, drawing her in with a quiet desperation.
"I hate what we've become," Evelyn said, her voice breaking again. "Hiding. Pretending. Suffering so he can have a crown he never earned. I'm tired, Vivi. I'm tired of pretending I'm his wife when I've only ever been yours."
Vivienne let out a shuddered breath, her eyes damp but blazing with quiet conviction. "You are mine. You've always been mine."
Evelyn kissed her. It was sudden, raw—a crash of lips that carried years of restraint, of longing, of bruised silence. Vivienne responded instantly, her hands gripping Evelyn's waist, pulling her down from the chair and into her lap, letting her straddle her, hold her, breathe again. The firelight cast flickering gold across their tangled silhouettes as the kiss deepened—slow and urgent all at once.
Vivienne pulled back just enough to whisper, "Stay tonight. Let me hold you. Let me remind you who you are."
"I'm already staying," Evelyn murmured, brushing her lips against Vivienne's cheek. "I'm not going anywhere."
Vivienne stood then, still holding Evelyn close, and led her to the bed. The sheets were soft, freshly pressed, smelling faintly of lavender. They lay together beneath them, curled into each other, heartbeat to heartbeat. No more roles. No more pretending.
Vivienne kissed the top of Evelyn's head, then her brow, then lower—along her cheek, her jawline, the hollow of her throat. Each kiss was a promise, a reclamation. Evelyn's fingers clutched at her robe, pulling it loose. Vivienne followed, letting the silk slip from her shoulders, revealing the curve of her neck, her collarbones, her chest. There was no hesitation in Evelyn's touch, only reverence and relief.
"You're the only one who's ever seen me," Evelyn whispered as her hand traced down Vivienne's back.
Vivienne leaned down, her lips brushing Evelyn's sternum. "You were never invisible to me. Not once."
Vivienne caught her effortlessly, arms secure around Evelyn's thighs as she lifted her with practiced ease. Evelyn instinctively wrapped her legs around Vivienne's waist, clutching at her shoulders as their mouths met in a kiss that deepened with every breath. It was slow, searing—less a collision and more a surrender. Evelyn's fingers curled into Vivienne's hair, tugging gently as if to anchor herself in the moment.
Vivienne moved toward the bed without breaking the kiss, their lips still pressed together, breath mingling, hearts racing in tandem. She lowered them with care, their bodies never parting.
They met in the middle of the bed, their bodies moving together in a rhythm only they understood. Every sigh, every arch, every whispered name was a prayer. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows that danced across their entwined limbs.
Evelyn's voice rose with every crest of pleasure, her moans hushed only by Vivienne's lips. "More," she begged softly, again and again. "Please, Vivi… more."
The light flickered across the room, casting long shadows over the tangle of limbs and silk sheets. The scent of jasmine clung to the air, warm and heady, wrapping around them like another layer of skin. Evelyn lay beneath Vivienne, her skin flushed, her breath unsteady. The world had long since fallen away — no titles, no expectations, no weight of the past — only the two of them, stitched together by desire and years of unresolved longing.
Vivienne kissed her again — slow, reverent — her hand brushing back sweat-dampened curls from Evelyn's cheek. "You're beautiful like this," she murmured, her voice low and shaken, as if the sight of Evelyn unraveling beneath her was too much to bear and not nearly enough.
Evelyn whimpered softly, her fingers tracing the slope of Vivienne's back, anchoring herself to the heat and presence above her. "Don't say things like that," she whispered, half-laughing, half-pleading.
"Why not?" Vivienne dipped her head, grazing her lips along Evelyn's throat. "It's true. You're breathtaking."
Evelyn's voice trembled with every crest of pleasure, her moans hushed only by Vivienne's lips. "More," she begged softly, again and again. "Please, Vivi… more."
Vivienne didn't answer with words. She kissed her — deeply, possessively — one hand cradling the side of Evelyn's face, the other tracing reverent paths along her waist, her thigh, every part of her she'd memorized in silence over the years. Her mouth moved from Evelyn's lips to her neck, her shoulder, her chest — tasting every sound, every shiver.
Evelyn arched against her, her breath catching as she tangled her fingers in Vivienne's hair. "I missed you," she whispered, brokenly, her eyes fluttering shut. "I didn't think—I didn't know if we'd ever—"
"I know," Vivienne murmured against her skin, her voice thick with emotion. "Neither did I."
Everything between them was aching, breathless, raw. Each touch carried the weight of time lost and feelings long buried, each kiss an offering — not just of desire, but of devotion. Vivienne slowed her pace, letting her fingers trail gently over Evelyn's ribs, her hips, down her thigh, then back again — as if trying to memorize her all over, to reassure herself that this was real, that Evelyn was truly here, open to her, wanting her.
Evelyn reached for her, pulling her closer, pulling her down. Their foreheads touched. Their breath mingled.
"I'm still yours," Evelyn whispered, barely audible. "If you still want me."
Vivienne closed her eyes, her heart clenching. She kissed Evelyn again, softer now, like a vow. "I never stopped."
The room felt suspended in that moment — all heat and candlelight, quiet sighs and slow caresses. Vivienne's hands moved with reverence, her touch mapping every tremor of Evelyn's body, every desperate pull of her hips, every whispered plea. Evelyn's eyes fluttered open and met hers — wide, wet, aching — and something shattered between them.
"I love you," Evelyn said suddenly, her voice cracking. "God, Vivienne, I love you."
Vivienne stilled, her lips trembling against Evelyn's throat. Then, breathless, she said it back. "I always have."
And when they moved together again, it wasn't just desire anymore. It was everything they hadn't said, everything they'd lost, everything they still hoped to keep.
Time unraveled, and the only sound was the soft rhythm of breath and skin, of Evelyn whispering Vivienne's name like it was the only word she remembered, and Vivienne answering with her hands, her lips, her entire body — until they both came undone in each other's arms.
Evelyn gasped as Vivienne's mouth found the hollow just above her collarbone, lingering there like a secret. Her legs shifted, instinctively pulling Vivienne closer, and her voice caught in a trembling plea. "More," she said, her breath hitching. "Please, Vivi… more."
And Vivienne gave—her touch gentle yet insistent, her love spoken through every breathless kiss and shivering press of skin. They moved together until Evelyn's cries echoed against the canopy of the bed, gasps of relief and release tangled with Vivienne's name.
When it was over, Evelyn curled into her, exhausted and trembling, her head tucked beneath Vivienne's chin. Their legs tangled beneath the sheets, sweat cooling on their skin, hearts still racing in unison.
Vivienne kissed the crown of her head, her fingers combing through Evelyn's hair with aching tenderness. "You're safe now," she murmured. "With me."
And for the first time in a long, long time, Evelyn believed her.
Later, they lay tangled in the sheets, bodies cooling, but hearts burning brighter than ever. Evelyn rested her head on Vivienne's chest, listening to the steady thrum of her heartbeat.
"I don't care what he does anymore," Evelyn murmured into the silence. "He can scream and curse and claw. But he'll never have me. Not truly. Not again."
Vivienne stroked her back slowly. "Then let him drown in his bitterness. We have nothing to fear. Not anymore."
There was a pause, and then Evelyn whispered, "You're going to confront him, aren't you?"
"I have to," Vivienne said softly. "As his sister. As your wife. He's forgotten his place, and I'm tired of pretending for his sake."
Evelyn closed her eyes. "Be careful."
Vivienne kissed her brow. "Always."
She dressed quietly, slipping back into her robe, her posture regal and unflinching. With one final kiss pressed to Evelyn's lips, she whispered, "Wait for me."
The door clicked shut behind her, and the warmth of her absence lingered like a vow.
Down the hall, Reginald's door opened under Vivienne's sharp knock. He didn't have time to speak before she strode in, her voice low and venom-laced.
"You will never speak to Evelyn like that again," she said flatly. "And you will stop pretending Eva belongs to you."
"She carries my name," Reginald shot back.
"A name you begged for," she spat. "Everything you own was bought by her. Her silence, her title, her dignity. You don't even know what you threw away."
Reginald clenched his fists. "You forget your place, Vivienne."
"No," she said, stepping closer, her eyes cold and clear. "You forgot yours. You're the heir by her mercy. But don't think for a second I wouldn't step in if she ever asked. If she falls, I rise. That's what it means to be the one she chose. And she chose me."
He said nothing. Could say nothing.
Vivienne turned without another word, her steps even, victorious.
When she returned to her room, Evelyn was still awake, waiting with the blankets pulled open. Vivienne slipped beneath them, drawing her wife into her arms once more.
"You're back," Evelyn breathed.
"I always come back to you," Vivienne whispered.
They kissed again, slower this time, deep and lingering.
And as the fire dimmed to embers, the sound of their laughter, their kisses, and Evelyn's quiet pleading for more filled the room—soft, sacred, unstoppable.
The world outside could burn.
Here, there was only love.
Here, she was mine to keep.