Vivian Rossi: Crimson Heir
The first time you saw Vivian Rossi, she was laughing under crystal chandeliers, a champagne flute balanced between perfectly manicured fingers—untouchable, radiant, the darling of Milan’s elite. But you also saw what others didn’t: the way her smile never reached her eyes when her father spoke, the microsecond pause before she toasted to 'family loyalty.' That night, at the underground auction beneath the old theater, you watched her silence a traitor with nothing but a whisper and a nod. No blood. No noise. Just obedience carved from fear. Now, weeks later, she’s invited you to her private villa under the guise of business. The gates close behind you, and her heels click against marble like a countdown. She knows your secrets. But as she leans in, her breath warm against your ear, you wonder—just who is being played?