Lucky Draw
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Rebecca didn’t flinch. She typed the number again.
And again.
And again.
Each time she hit call, her heart pounded harder, her chest tighter. Panic coiled through her like smoke, thick and choking, feeding on
itself.
She couldn’t reach him.
Desperate, she grasped for anything–anyone.
Vivienne.
It was instinct. Irrational. But undeniable.
Rebecca had always worn her pride like armor. The poised, untouchable heiress–never the first to apologize, never the one to bow her head.
Even when she was wrong.
But tonight, without a second thought, she dialed the number of the friend she’d coldly cut off years ago—just for the chance to
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get in touch with him.
Vivienne was at a pizza shop when her phone buzzed.
Lucky Draw
She glanced at the screen, eyebrows lifting in surprise. Rebecca?
She answered with a cool, neutral tone. “What’s up, Rebecca?”
The truth was, they’d never truly been friends.
Their worlds, their values–too different.
Their friendship had been a formality, a product of family politics and shallow convenience.
When it ended, Vivienne hadn’t missed her.
Rebecca’s voice cracked. “Vivienne… do you have Alistair’s number?”
Vivienne’s spine straightened. A silent alarm went off in her mind. “No. I don’t.”
It was true.
Since the divorce, Alistair had vanished from their social circles. Quietly, completely.
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Lucky Draw
But Rebecca didn’t buy it. “Please. I just… I need to talk to him. It’s
important. It’s about Danny.”
She didn’t even hesitate to use her son as leverage.
Vivienne exhaled slowly, rubbing her temple.
She’d always known this moment would come–when regret finally caught up with Rebecca.
She just hadn’t expected it so soon.
But even if she did have Alistair’s number–what then?
Would Rebecca beg? Pretend the past never happened?
She doubted it.
Because the truth was, Rebecca had never seen Alistair as a
partner.
He’d been her subordinate. Someone to shape, manage, silence.
A prop in the perfect image she’d curated.
And unless he had a taste for self–destruction, there was no way he’d ever return to that life–to her.
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Lucky Draw
“I really don’t have Alistair’s number. Maybe try someone else?”
Vivienne’s tone was clipped, final.
She was already drowning in work–and the last thing she had time for was moonlighting as Rebecca’s relationship therapist.
They weren’t friends anymore. Not really.
She owed her nothing.
And truthfully? She had zero interest in helping.
Rebecca didn’t reply. The silence on the line stretched–heavy,
hollow.
Vivienne ended the call.
Her next hope? Eva.
Eva had recently run into Alistair at the kindergarten.
They’d even chatted–casually, warmly.
Back when Alistair was drowning, Eva had often stepped in, offered help.
Surely, if she asked nicely, he wouldn’t refuse to give Eva his
21.05
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number.
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“Oh gosh, Alistair’s number? I totally forgot to ask him! But hey, next time I see him, I’ll definitely ask!” Eva said cheerily.
Her response left Rebecca crushed.
Even if she got his number–what then? What was she even going to say?
Rebecca was impulsive by nature. She tended to act purely on instinct, without thinking too far ahead.
Right now, she wanted to hear Alistair’s voice. That was it. That want burned so hot in her chest she found herself scrambling, desperately searching for someone–anyone–who might have his contact info. No luck.
Still unwilling to give up, she called Liam next.
He told her that Alistair had cut ties with him. But Rebecca didn’t take that at face value. Liam was still Alistair’s biological father. Blood was blood. People said things they didn’t mean when they were angry. Once the dust settled, they’d reconnect eventually.
That said, she also knew perfectly well–Liam had never been much of a father to begin with.
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Lucky Draw
→→Lucky
As she dialed, Liam answered and greeted her respectfully, “Ms.
Whitfield.”
Meanwhile, Richard–who had been waiting outside the
apartment for ages–finally ran out of patience. He pushed the door open, planning to find out what the hell Rebecca had been up to all this time. But before he could say a word, he heard her voice coming from the living room, sharp with frustration.
“What do you mean you don’t have Alistair’s number? You haven’t heard from him at all? Why haven’t you tried to reach out? Aren’t you his father?”
Richard froze in place.
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing.
She’d made a call, all right–but not to him. She was going around asking for Alistair’s number.
So that whole act earlier–sitting there crying her eyes out–was for him?
Rage boiled in his chest. He felt like he’d been slapped.
All that time–six years spent with me how could I have believed she was completely mine? Was it the way she used to look at me with nothing but worship? The way she’d mock Alistair right to his
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face without a second thought?
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He’d gotten so used to Rebecca’s blind adoration, he’d let it inflate his ego, let it convince him he was something untouchable. Alistair had always been the dirt beneath her heels. He had been
the sun in her sky.
So even knowing they’d lived under the same roof for years, Richard had never worried. He never thought she’d actually fall for
someone like him.
But reality hit like a freight train.
He’d been betrayed.
Furious, he stormed into the room, grabbed Rebecca–still crouched on the floor–by the arm and yanked her up hard, eyes blazing. “I thought you said you only had eyes for me. So what the hell are you doing right now? You lying slut!”
Rebecca, thin and frail from years of controlling her weight, was practically weightless in his grasp. She flew up like a leaf in the
wind.
Her phone slipped from her hand, crashing to the ground and shattering across the screen.
The suddenness of it all made her scream. She struggled, kicked,
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Lucky Draw
Lucky
and punched, but nothing worked. Panicking, she lunged forward
and bit him hard.
Richard let out a howl, stumbling back a few steps. “You’re insane! Look at me–it’s me!”
Hair a mess, breathing ragged, Rebecca stared at him like shè didn’t recognize the man standing there. Her voice was flat, icy.
“I know exactly who you are. That’s why I bit you.”
His eyes widened. The shock quickly gave way to a second wave of rage. Without thinking, he raised his hand and slapped her-
hard.
The smack echoed through the room. Rebecca stumbled and fell backward, completely stunned.
Never in her life had anyone hit her–except her father.
And now, this man, the one she had once loved so blindly she would’ve handed him her heart on a silver platter, had raised a hand to her.
How could I have been this stupid?
