[{"data":1,"prerenderedAt":-1},["ShallowReactive",2],{"origin-four-of-a-kind":3,"chapter-four-of-a-kind-four-of-a-kind-chapter-209":6},{"origin":4,"title":5},"english","Four Of A Kind",{"chapter":7,"nextChapterSlug":19,"prevChapterSlug":20,"totalChapters":21,"novelImage":22},{"id":8,"novel_id":9,"title":10,"slug":11,"index":12,"content":13,"wordcount":14,"created_at":15,"updated_at":15,"volume":16,"translator":17,"content_hash":18},1529903,1985,"Chapter 209: [4.27] The Four Horsemen of My Public Humiliation","four-of-a-kind-chapter-209",209,"\u003Cp>And there it was. The real reason she’d called me here. Camille Valentine, eternal source of pressure and impossibly high standards.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fine. What do you need?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Relief softened her features. \"Just stay close. I may need a second opinion on some styling choices.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I wear the same three shirts in rotation.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’ve noticed.\" Her lips quirked. \"It’s charming in its simplicity.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Was that... a compliment? From Vivienne Valentine? Maybe I’d died over the weekend and this was some weird purgatory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>For the next hour, I followed her around like a shadow, watching as she transformed from tightly-wound teenager to confident creative director. She spoke to the photographers with authority, adjusted lighting setups with the precision of someone who’d been doing this for decades, and handled a model meltdown with surprising gentleness.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You’re good at this,\" I said during a rare quiet moment, leaning against a light stand while she reviewed shots on a digital camera screen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Of course I am.\" No false modesty, no pretense of humility. Pure, undiluted Vivienne. \"I’ve been training for it my entire life.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The statement hung there between us, oddly hollow despite its confidence. I watched her scroll through images with mechanical precision, her expression giving nothing away.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Is it what you want, though?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Her purple eyes snapped to mine. The camera nearly slipped from her hands. \"What kind of question is that?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"A simple one.\" I kept my tone casual, but something in the way she’d been moving through this space all morning had caught my attention. Too perfect, too practiced, like a script she’d memorized rather than a role she’d chosen.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She looked away, watching as a model posed against a stark white backdrop across the studio. The photographer’s shutter clicked in rapid succession, capturing moment after moment. \"Want doesn’t factor into it. This is my responsibility to the family name.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That’s not what I asked.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s the only answer that matters.\" Her voice was tight, each word carefully controlled like she was reading from a teleprompter. Then, softer, almost reluctant: \"The photos from the gala are being published tomorrow.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I tensed, feeling my shoulders go rigid. \"The ones of us?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She nodded once, sharp and precise. \"Mother’s team tried to suppress them, but Page Six got hold of them anyway. They’re running with ’Valentine Heiress’s Mystery Man’ as the headline.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fantastic.\" I could already imagine the whispers in the hallways, the stares, the questions I’d have to deflect. Just what I needed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’m sorry.\" And she genuinely looked it. \"This will complicate things for you at school.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I shrugged. \"I’ll survive.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes, you seem quite good at that.\" She studied me with those unnervingly perceptive eyes. \"Surviving.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Before I could respond, a stylist called her over for an emergency consultation on hemlines. I watched her go, all business again, the brief moment of connection severed.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>My phone buzzed with a text from Sabrina:Library carrel C4. 8pm. Research assistance required.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four sisters, four demands on my time. Just another day in the Valentine job.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Hartwell’s library stayed open until 10pm for students cramming for exams or finishing papers. By 8pm, most had cleared out, leaving only the truly dedicated or truly desperate.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I found Sabrina in carrel C4, surrounded by stacks of books and a laptop open to what looked like a research database.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You summoned me?\" I slid into the chair across from her.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She didn’t look up. \"I require your assistance with a project.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What kind of project requires my specific help at 8pm?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"The kind investigating polyamory in contemporary American youth culture.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She finally looked up, her expression neutral as always. \"Is there a problem?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Why are you researching that?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For my sociology paper.\" She pushed a book across the table. \"I need you to read Chapters three through seven and summarize the key findings on relationship structures outside monogamy.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I stared at the book, then back at her. \"Is this a joke?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Do I seem like someone who jokes?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Fair point.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This feels... targeted,\" I said carefully.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>One eyebrow arched. \"In what way?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You know exactly in what way.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She returned to her laptop, typing something. \"Your narcissism is showing, Isaiah. Not everything is about you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Right. You’re researching polyamory three days after telling me all four Valentine sisters are interested in me. Pure coincidence.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The ghost of a smile touched her lips. \"I’ve been working on this paper for six weeks. Check the date on my initial research proposal if you don’t believe me.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I didn’t know whether to believe her or not. Sabrina was the hardest Valentine to read.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Fine.\" I took the book. \"Chapters three through seven.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Thank you.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>We worked in silence for the next hour. I read about relationship anarchy, kitchen table polyamory, and hierarchical dating structures. Sabrina took notes on her laptop, occasionally asking my opinion on a passage or theory.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>It was almost normal. Almost.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What do you think about the consent culture described in Chapter five?\" she asked without looking up.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It seems logical. Clear communication, established boundaries, regular check-ins.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Would you be capable of that level of communication in a romantic context?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I narrowed my eyes. \"This doesn’t feel like academic discussion anymore.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Answer the question.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I don’t know. I’ve never tried.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She nodded, making another note. \"And if you were to try, what would your primary concerns be?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sabrina.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Yes?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What are you really asking?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She finally looked up, her purple eyes piercing through me. \"I think you know.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I have some guesses, and none of them are appropriate for a school library.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Then perhaps we should discuss them elsewhere.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Not happening.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She smiled, small but genuine. \"Your resistance is admirable, if futile.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Nothing about this conversation is admirable.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You haven’t left.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She had me there.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’m trying to be helpful,\" I said lamely.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"You are. Very helpful.\" She closed her laptop. \"That’s what makes you dangerous.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Me? Dangerous?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Extremely.\" She began gathering her books. \"You make people want things they shouldn’t want.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That’s not my fault.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I didn’t say it was.\" She stood to leave. \"Just an observation.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I watched her pack up, feeling like I’d missed something important in our conversation. Some subtext or hidden message.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sabrina,\" I called as she turned to go. \"What’s really going on with you and your sisters?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>She paused, considering her answer. \"Evolution,\" she said finally. \"We’re evolving beyond our previous understanding of possibilities.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That’s cryptic as hell.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Patience, Isaiah.\" She smiled again, that rare, genuine smile that transformed her face. \"Some experiments take time to yield results.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>With that, she walked away, leaving me with a half-read book on polyamory and the distinct feeling I was being set up for something I wasn’t prepared to handle.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>By Wednesday, I’d convinced myself I was paranoid. The Valentine sisters were just being... themselves. Flirty, complicated, occasionally inappropriate, but fundamentally normal.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Felix slid into the seat next to me at lunch. \"Dude, have you seen this?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He shoved his phone in my face. Page Six, just as Vivienne had warned. A photo of us at the gala, her in that burgundy dress, me in the borrowed suit. We looked good together, I had to admit. Like we belonged in the same world.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>The headline made my stomach turn:Valentine Heiress’s Mystery Man: New Love or Boy Toy?\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"This is you, right?\" Felix’s eyes were wide. \"With Vivienne Valentine? At some fancy art thing?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I shrugged. \"I was helping her with a work thing.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Bullshit. You’re wearing a tux!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s just a suit.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"A suit that probably costs more than some cars!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>He wasn’t wrong. The Tom Ford had been worth about twenty grand, according to Mr. Bellamy.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s not a big deal,\" I lied.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Not a big deal?\" Felix laughed. \"You’re dating Vivienne Valentine!\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"I’m not dating anyone.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Then what’s this?\" He swiped to another photo, this one showing Vivienne’s hand on my arm, her face turned up toward mine, both of us clearly in a moment.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Shit.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It’s nothing. A work event.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Right. And I’m the Queen of England.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I was saved from further interrogation by the arrival of the Valentine sisters themselves. They moved through the cafeteria like visiting royalty, drawing every eye in the room.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>But instead of sitting at their usual table, they headed straight for me.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Isaiah.\" Vivienne’s voice carried just enough to make nearby conversations pause. \"We need to discuss this weekend’s schedule.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Felix’s mouth fell open.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Sure.\" I kept my voice casual. \"What about it?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"We’re having a family meeting,\" Cassidy said, dropping into the seat across from me. \"All of us. Friday night at the manor.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"And we need you there,\" Harlow added, sliding in beside her sister.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"For... what exactly?\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Business,\" Sabrina said, taking the final seat. \"Family business.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>Four identical faces with four different expressions all watched me expectantly.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Family business doesn’t involve me,\" I pointed out.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"It does now.\" Vivienne’s tone left no room for argument. \"Friday. Seven o’clock. We’ll have someone bring your sister.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They stood in unison, like they’d choreographed it.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"Oh, and Isaiah?\" Cassidy turned back with a dangerous smile. \"Don’t make plans for afterward. This might take all night.\"\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>They walked away, leaving the cafeteria buzzing with speculation and Felix staring at me like I’d grown a second head.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"What the actual fuck was that?\" he whispered.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>I watched the Valentine sisters exit the cafeteria, already dreading whatever \"family meeting\" awaited me Friday night.\u003C\u002Fp>\n\u003Cp>\"That,\" I said, \"was probably the end of my career.\"\u003C\u002Fp>",1576,"2026-06-06T06:03:59.990Z",1,"novelbin.me","816e6bb757f741d912d4c1116513c5146eb292ffcfbe63aaae7e7c272c83cdb8","four-of-a-kind-chapter-210","four-of-a-kind-chapter-208",251,"https:\u002F\u002Fnovelzhen.com\u002Fimages\u002Fcovers\u002Ffour-of-a-kind-cover.jpg"]