Year Five The Perfect Goodbye Plan novel Chapter 67

The private room was bathed in warm light. A handful of young men, some lounging on the leather couches, others standing by the bar, all turned to Silvia with unmistakable welcome in their eyes.

While they sized her up, Silvia was quietly assessing them as well.

She recognized most of them—rising stars in business and politics, names whispered about in the city’s elite circles. She’d heard enough to know they were ambitious, hungry for success.

Silvia lifted her chin and offered a poised, gracious smile. “Hi, I’m Silvia. It’s my first time meeting all of you—I’m sorry I didn’t bring a proper gift. Next time, drinks are on me.”

Her manners were impeccable—warm, but not ingratiating. She struck just the right balance, making everyone feel at ease.

These men were seasoned players in the world of deals and negotiations. Silvia’s poise only raised their opinion of her.

They introduced themselves one by one, exchanging brief handshakes and friendly nods.

Kent guided Silvia to a spot beside him on the couch. Once the introductions were over, he said, “If you ever need anything, just ask these guys. They’ll take care of you.”

Silvia was a little taken aback. These men were hardly the type she could just boss around—she wouldn’t dare.

Her mind drifted, unbidden, to her time with Shipley.

He’d never once introduced her as his partner to his friends. To her face, they’d call her “sis-in-law,” but behind her back, they’d mock her, always singing Vianne’s praises instead.

Back then, Silvia believed that if she just focused on building a good life with Shipley, his friends would come around. But now, she realized she didn’t have to prove herself at all; Kent’s friends already accepted her, no questions asked.

“Hey, sis-in-law, it’s our first meeting—you’ve got to have a few drinks with us!” A young man with sharp features and a fox-like smile, silver studs in his ears, and a punk jacket, raised his wine glass and shot Silvia a mischievous look.

He grinned, lazy and irreverent, as if he owned the room.

“Geoffrey,” someone teased, playfully tugging at his arm, “You can’t just treat her like one of us. If you want her to drink, you’ll have to check with Kent first. She’s not one of the guys.”

“It’s fine, I’ll drink with you.” Silvia brushed Kent’s hand off her waist, rose from the couch, and accepted the wine.

She wasn’t about to spoil the mood. It was just a drink; she wasn’t one to play coy.

Swirling the wine in her glass, Silvia’s smile was radiant and unpretentious, her confidence lighting up the room.

For a moment, everyone seemed to pause, caught off guard by her easy grace.

Silvia meant to finish the glass in one go—but a long, elegant hand intercepted her, taking the stem from her fingers.

Kent’s voice was cool and calm, tinged with that innate air of privilege he carried. He didn’t say much, just tipped his head back and finished the wine in her place. “I’ll drink for her.”

Silvia’s eyes flickered.

He’d stepped in for her again.

Geoffrey let out a whoop. “Kent hasn’t had a drink with us in ages! Today must be special. Since you’ve started, don’t blame us for going all out.”

They were close, and their banter was lively.

They started a drinking game, taking turns challenging Kent to keep up.

Silvia watched as Kent’s cheeks grew steadily more flushed.

She frowned, reaching out, wanting to take the glass from him, but Kent just pulled her into his arms, dodging her hand. He smiled, a little dangerously, his eyes glinting.

They waved her off, none of them bothering to get up.

Silvia slipped her arm under Kent’s, steadying him. Though his steps were wobbly, he did his best to carry his own weight, making it easy for her to guide him out.

Once they were in the car, Silvia leaned in to buckle his seatbelt. Before she could, Kent pulled her gently into his arms.

He lowered his head, his eyes shining with a mischievous light, lips curving into a faint smile. His voice was low and rough, the single word barely more than a whisper.

“Via.”

The sound of her nickname, murmured so close, sent a tremor through her chest.

Via.

It was her childhood name—a name that meant more to her than anyone could know.

Before she’d been welcomed back into the Ashford family, her adoptive mother had always called her Via. At first, Silvia thought it was an affectionate pet name. Later, she realized her adoptive mother was using her as a stand-in, calling out to Vianne in secret.

Yet even so, Silvia had fifteen years of memories wrapped around that name.

Back with the Ashfords, she never mentioned it. Her family only ever called her Silvia.

But now, Kent was calling her by that name.

How did he know?

A dozen questions raced through Silvia’s mind, one after another, as the car sped into the night.