Page 131 of Black Castle

Isadora has told Vivienne this multiple times. That Clement Baudin’s love was all a lie. That he had only ever mirrored humanity.

‘Your father used me’ she would often say, ‘and she used you too.’

“In 2002, a college professor at a university in France, was arrested and sentenced to life in prison for being behind the multiple murders of young men and women, including his students.”

The world around Vivienne grinds to a halt.

Murmurs ripple through the class. A hand squeezes her shoulder gently, grounding her, but her breath is shallow, her skin clammy.

He knows.

She was right all along. He knows something.

He knows her father, he knows her. His mission is to taunt her. That’s why he came back.

Sweat prickles along her spine. Even clothed, she feels exposed and seen.

She has spent years hiding, blending in. And somehow, she has been so lucky that she avoided suspicion. And she is finally so close, just months away from disappearing from high school and going far away. But he is about to ruin it.

If her schoolmates find out, she is doomed.

“He had a wife and nine-year-old daughter,” Mr Fadden continues, voice low, deliberate. “He lived like a normal man. Goes to work, plays with his daughter, and acts the role of a loving husband worthy of an Oscar. And all the while, he was slitting throats in the shadows.”

The words slam into Vivienne like a wrecking ball.

She is going to be sick.

She hears a chair scrape against the floor. Then there is a sudden shadow beside her. Before she can acknowledge the person, a hand has grabbed her wrist.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” the person says. And like a robot dutifully following a command, Vivienne rises without question and allows the person to drag her out of the room.

“Let me come with you,” Kenji insists, grabbing Vivienne’s hand, making her halt.

Placing her hand gently over his that is wrapped around her forearm, she tugs his hand off. “I can handle this.”

“Vee.” Kenji’s protest falls on deaf ears as with a breath in, Vivienne pushes open the door to Mr. Fadden’s class, a mission in mind.

He got her earlier—back at the classroom. Oh, he got her so good. Almost pushed her into panicking and revealing her cover. But this is the power he has over her. He knows her dark little secret, and if she continues to tiptoe around him, he will turn her into a puppet.

There must be something he wants if he hasn’t blurted it out yet. Hell, every man wants something. And Vivienne has become curious about what could be the desires of James Fadden.

“Marchand?” He plays at surprise. But his delivery falls flat. He will never make it in Hollywood.

“Surprise to see you here.” Swinging his feet off the table, he grabs the coffee mug with one hand, the other slipping into his pocket as he strides forward. “Saw how you uh…” He raises a half shoulder in a shrug, his tone easy, amused. “Walked off with your friend during my, must I add, very interesting class, earlier. What was that about?”

“My bad.” Vivienne folds her arms across her chest, her back against the door, anxiety buried at the darkest corner of her mind.

“So…” He tilts his head to the side, but the seemingly welcoming smile doesn’t touch his eyes that is nothing but a canvas of mischief. “To what do I owe this visit?”

“Aren’t you tired of the act, Mr. Fadden?” She raises a brow. “Especially when you are not so good at it?”

Mr. Fadden chuckles drily. “I’m lost here, Marchand. Is there something I’m missing?”

“You have a personal grudge against Clement Baudin.” His jaw clenches, anger flashing in his eyes.

Bullseye.

Vivienne tilts her head, eyes gleaming with mock curiosity. “Who was it? Your sister? Your mom? Oh, wait, your girlfriend?” She snaps her fingers, a grin touching her lips.

---