Chapter 11 Vivian Back home, I lay the invitation on my coffee table and stare at it for an hour. I think about the girl on the train who gave up her seat and lost everything. I think about the woman who clawed her way back and built a life from ash. I think about Edward's face in that closet, and Harlee's smug smile every day at work. I think about Alessandro's offer-how easy it would be to let him erase Edward from existence. How tempting. But that's not who I am. Not who I want to be. Then I think about what Elena said: "Your body is yours, and pleasure is yours.* Maybe she's right. Maybe one night of being someone else-of feeling something other than this crushing weight-is exactly what I need. I pick up my phone and text Elena: "I'll go.* Her response is immediate: "That's my brave girl. Be safe. Be free. Remember who you are.* The next evening, I stand in front of my closet, the white mask in my hand. What does one wear to a sex club? My eyes land on the white dress hanging in the back-my wedding dress. The one I was supposed to wear when I married Edward. I never returned it. Never could bring myself to look at it. Until now. A wild idea takes hold. Why not? Why not reclaim it? Turn it into something new, something mine? pull it on, the silk sliding over my skin like water. The deep V in the back exposes my tattoo-*bent but not broken". I arrange my hair in an updo, ecure the veil and tiara, and slip on the mask. n the mirror, I look like a bride. But not the kind who waits at the altar for a man who'll betray her. he kind who walks through fire and comes out the other side. grab the bottle of tequila I've been saving and head for the door. 'onight, I'm not Vivian, Valentino's Princess. 'm not the girl Carter tried to destroy. 'm not the woman Edward betrayed. 'onight, I'm just Princess Bride, and I'm going to remember what it feels like to be alive. The alley is darker than I expected. knock on the metal door. A peep window slides open, and I give the password Elena wrote down for me. The door creeps open, revealing warm light and red carpet. nside, a tall man in a tux with an British accent greets me. "Welcome to Decadence. I'm Brogan. May I see your invitation?" I hand it over, my hands steadier than I expected. "Ah, yes. A special guest of Mr. Valentino. Welcome, miss. Tonight's theme is fairy tales. I see you've dressed accordingly-how lovely. Your mask?" I touch the white crystals. "I have it." "Perfect. Let me give you a brief orientation..." He explains the rules-consent, the different floors, the private rooms. I barely hear him over the pounding of my heart. When he's finished, he opens the double doors. Music pulses through the walls. I clutch my tequila bottle tighter and step through. The club is more elegant than I imagined-chandeliers, velvet couches, an oval pool in the center. People in masks and costumes mill about. Some are dancing. Some are doing... other things. I make my way toward the bar, trying to look confident, when someone slams into me from the side. Strong hands catch me before I fall. "Whoa there. You okay, sweetheart?" I look up into green eyes framed by an elaborate mask covered in feathers-so many feathers it's almost comical...