Chapter 5

Vivianne woke up feeling good in the morning. She had released her anger last night by drinking and punching Beckett, the person she despised. Satisfied with what she had done, she looked at her fist—the one she used to punch him.

She smiled, confident that it was the first time the guy received a punch aside from those on his shows.

"He may seem pitiful, but he deserved it," Vivianne muttered before getting up from bed.

She did her routine afterward—fixing the bedroom, eating her usual breakfast of pancakes and apples, and getting dressed.

One of her strengths was drinking alcohol as if there were no tomorrow, getting wasted, and acting like nothing happened the next day. Well, she could feel the dizziness and headache of a hangover, but she could tolerate it.

This pain was nothing compared to the intensity of the rehearsals her father had given her. At a young age, she could say she was physically strong for a woman, although she preferred guns becaus