Page 124 of The Jaded Notes

Livianna leans closer to Quinn Foster, one of my best investment banking analysts. Their laughter carries across the reception like bugle horns.

I try to will Livianna to look at me as I answer Cindy. “You were telling me about your new investment portfolio.”

“I was telling you about my sister’s engagement.” Cindy follows my gaze. Her perfectly manicured fingers rest on my forearm with a possessive claim. “But clearly your attention is elsewhere.”

She’s right. Every cell in my body is tuned to Livianna’s frequency, tracking her movements, cataloging every gesture, every sip, and every moment her fingers drift toward her wrists in that unconscious habit that makes my chest constrict with panic.

She hasn’t cut in over a year, but the urge lives in her muscle memory. It surfaces when she’s overwhelmed, hurt, or feeling like the world is spinning too fast to catch.

When she catches herself wanting to do it, she asks me to create a scene for her so she can release the underlying tension, knowing I’ll be there to care for her when it’s over.

Tonight, while she drowns her pain in premium vodka, I recognize that familiar restlessness in the way she touches her skin.

“Oh my God, is that little Livianna Hemings?” Cindy’s voice takes on a tone of manufactured delight that makes my blood run cold. “She looks exactly the same as she did when she was seventeen. Still so...young.”

The emphasis she places on the word “young” feels like a deliberate blade aimed at something vulnerable.

Her gaze catches with Livianna’s. Her shoulders tense. I notice even from across the garden, she felt the sting of whatever memory Cindy just weaponized.

“We should go say hello.” Her grip on my arm becomes a vice as she pulls me toward the bar. “I have such fond memories of that girl.”

Every instinct I have screams that this is a mistake, that whatever Cindy has planned will blow up like a bomb in Livianna's face, but I’m trapped by the evening’s politics and my own secrets I’ve sworn to keep safe.

“Livianna, sweetheart!” Cindy’s voice rings out as we approach, sweet as poisoned honey. “You look absolutely radiant. Still hiding in bathrooms at parties, I hope.”

The color drains from Livianna’s face so fast, I think shemight faint. My gaze follows her fingers when they press against her wrists with enough pressure to leave marks.

Quinn’s eyes narrow with protective instinct as she steps closer to Livianna, clearly recognizing a threat even if she doesn’t understand the context.

“Cindy.” Livianna holds her head high. “How lovely to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, sweetheart.” Cindy eyes Livianna up and down. “Though you might want to slow down on the drinks. You’re so tiny, I’m sure you can’t handle that much alcohol. Besides, I thought you indulged in other chemicals that raise your spirits.”

Livianna’s composure cracks. Her blue eyes flash with a combination of humiliation and rage that makes me want to drag Cindy away from her before she inflicts any more damage.

“Ladies, perhaps we should—” I start, but Quinn cuts me off with a glare that could freeze hellfire.

“I’m sorry, but who exactly are you?” Quinn carries herself with the authority that comes from years of negotiating million-dollar deals and refusing to back down from bullies in three-thousand-dollar suits.

“My name’s Cindy. I’m Livianna’s parents’ financial advisor.” She extends her hand with grace, but there’s something predatory in her smile. “I’m Jaxon’s date this evening and an old friend of Livianna’s.”

“How old of a friend?” Quinn doesn’t shake her hand. Instead, she crosses her arms in a gesture that screams territorial protection. “Because from where I’m standing, it sounds like you’re about to go into some pretty specific memories about someone who would’ve been a teenager at the time.”

The observation lands harshly. Cindy’s mask slips for just a moment, revealing something ugly underneath the polished exterior.

“Well, Livianna was always very mature for her age.” Cindy recovers quickly, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Weren’t you, Livianna? Always so eager to play with the grown-ups even though you were far from ready.”

Livianna’s hand moves to her wrist again, and this time she doesn’t just touch. She digs her nails in with enough force that white marks bloom against her tattooed skin. The sight makes my vision tunnel with hostility and panic in equal measure.

“That’s enough.” My words cut through the hostile atmosphere. “Cindy, perhaps you should?—”

“Should what?” Her laugh is sharp. “Stop reminiscing about old times? But Livianna and I had such fun together at her parents’ party. Remember that night when you tried so hard to fit in with the adults. You were just dreaming of playing in the big leagues back then, but I hear you’ve made a few minor strides lately. Good for you.”

The cruelty in her tone makes my hands clench into fists, but it’s the way Livianna flinches like she’s been struck that pushes me past the point of civilized behavior.

“Cindy, that’s?—”

“Ancient history.” Livianna’s steady now, but empty in a way that’s infinitely more terrifying than her earlier brittleness. “Just like everything else from when I was too young to know better.”