Discarded By Him, Claimed By The Zillionaire

The next morning, Vivian pushed through the heavy revolving glass doors of the Mercer Capital headquarters.

Her right arm was encased in a thick white fiberglass cast, held up by a blue sling. A thick square of white gauze was taped over her forehead, stark against her pale skin. Every breath she took sent a sharp, stabbing pain through her bruised ribs.

Inside the expansive marble lobby, the receptionists took one look at her battered state and immediately dropped their heads, pretending to aggressively sort through paperwork.

Vivian ignored them. She walked toward the elevator banks and pressed the button for the Human Resources floor.

The silver doors began to slide shut. Suddenly, a hand with perfectly manicured, blood-red nails shoved into the gap. The doors bounced back open.

Maelie Mercer stepped into the elevator. She wore a pristine Prada suit and was flanked by two massive security guards. Her eyes locked onto Vivian, gleaming with pure malice.

Maelie's gaze slowly dragged over Vivian's cast and the bandage on her head. She let out a loud, theatrical scoff.

"Looks like your little pity-play backfired," Maelie sneered.

Vivian kept her eyes fixed on the digital floor indicator above the door. She didn't have the energy to engage with a spoiled heiress.

Her silence infuriated Maelie. Without a single second of warning, Maelie stepped into Vivian's personal space. Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper meant only for her.

"You are nothing but a worthless parasite," Maelie hissed. Then, with a practiced, elegant flick of her wrist, she tilted the steaming cup of artisanal coffee she was holding, pouring the scalding liquid directly over Vivian's battered shoulder and the pristine white edge of her cast.

The burning heat soaked through the thin fabric instantly, searing Vivian's bruised skin. The executives froze in their tracks.

Maelie tilted her chin up, looking down her nose with a perfectly crafted look of mock surprise. "Oh, my apologies. My hand simply slipped," she announced loudly to the hallway, her tone dripping with aristocratic cruelty.

The executives immediately turned their backs, suddenly very interested in the financial reports in their hands. No one was going to stop a Mercer from abusing an employee.

Vivian clenched her jaw as the hot liquid dripped down her arm. She stared at Maelie, her expression devoid of the pain the heiress so desperately wanted to see. She didn't raise her hand to fight back. The two security guards were already shifting their weight, ready to pin her to the floor.

She stepped out of the elevator and walked straight past the executives, her spine perfectly straight.

Ten minutes later, Vivian sat across from the HR Director. She slid her plastic employee badge and security keycard across the desk.

The HR Director avoided eye contact. He opened his drawer, pulled out a thick envelope stamped with the Mercer Capital logo, and slid it toward her.

"Mr. Mercer authorized a special severance," the Director said in a tight, robotic voice. "Fifty thousand dollars."

Vivian stared at the envelope. Fifty thousand dollars. That was the exact price tag Landon had placed on four years of her life, a near-fatal car crash, and a public assault.

A sickening sense of absurdity washed over her. This was the math of the old money elite. Everything had a buyout clause.

The Director slid a non-disclosure agreement next to the envelope. "Sign this, take the check, and yesterday's... incident is legally resolved."

Vivian picked up the heavy Montblanc pen from the desk. She didn't read the document. She signed her name on the dotted line with her left hand.

She grabbed the envelope, stood up, and walked out of the office without saying a single word.

When she stepped out of the Mercer building, the bright morning sun stabbed at her eyes. She gripped the envelope tightly in her good hand.

She caught her reflection in a street-level window. The stark white bandage on her head, the heavy cast, the angry red handprint blooming across her cheek.

She took a deep breath, shoved the envelope into her coat pocket, and raised her hand to hail a yellow cab.