The restaurant was upscale but subdued soft piano music, clinking cutlery, muted conversations floating between tables. Vivienne sat across from Samuel, her posture perfect, her food barely touched.

Samuel noticed immediately.

“You’ve been quiet since we got here,” he said, folding his napkin slowly. “That’s not like you.”

Vivienne didn’t respond. She lifted her glass, took a sip, then set it down with deliberate calm.

Samuel studied her face. “What’s wrong?”

Still nothing.

His jaw tightened slightly. “Is this about Aria again?” he pressed. “What did she do this time?”

That did it.

Vivienne finally looked up, her eyes sharp, annoyed. “Samuel,” she said coolly, “we came here to eat,...