When Rivalry Goes Viral

The Luxe Hotel Gala

The grand ballroom of The Luxe Hotel in downtown Los Angeles was alive with energy, a dazzling constellation of glittering chandeliers, champagne flutes, and the unmistakable buzz of ambition. Every corner brimmed with influencers in couture gowns, publicists whispering into headsets, and brand executives navigating the chaos with calculated charm. Soft jazz floated through the air, complementing the rhythmic hum of camera flashes and the occasional burst of laughter.

Vivien Hart adjusted the lapel of her emerald-green blazer, a sharp piece from Veridia, a sustainable fashion brand she was courting. She smoothed invisible wrinkles on her tailored black trousers, her nerves carefully masked behind a serene expression. She had one goal tonight: pitch herself as the face of integrity in an industry drowning in curated perfection.

"Do I look like I belong here, Chloe?" she murmured to her assistant, Chloe St. James, who balanced a clipboard in one hand and her ever-present phone in the other.

Chloe barely glanced up. "You look like you own the room. Now, stop fidgeting."

Vivien's lips twitched at Chloe's no-nonsense tone. Her assistant's sharp eye and ruthless honesty had been Vivien's saving grace since her early days in the influencer world.

But her confidence wavered as her eyes swept across the room and landed on someone who made her stomach drop. Standing by the bar, dressed in a dark navy blazer and exuding his signature effortless charm, was Ren Ashford.

Ren's dark hair fell in artful disarray over his forehead, and his easy grin made him the center of attention. A group of executives laughed at something he'd said, their eyes fixed on him like he was the sun in their universe. Vivien's pulse quickened—not with excitement, but with the unmistakable sting of rivalry.

Chloe caught her hesitation and followed her gaze. Her lips curved into a smirk. "Well, well. Is that the Ren Ashford?"

Vivien's jaw tightened. "Unfortunately."

Chloe's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Didn't you say he was your college nemesis? You know, the guy who stole your valedictorian title?"

"Not stole—snatched it out of pure audacity," Vivien muttered, her fingers curling around the strap of her bag. "Ren thrives on charm and manipulation."

"And it's clearly working," Chloe quipped, nodding toward the executives who hung on Ren's every word. "Want me to spill wine on him?"

Vivien's lips twitched, but she shook her head. "No. I'll just avoid him. I'm not letting him ruin tonight."

---

Vivien was mid-pitch to an executive from VitaPulse, a luxury wellness brand, when a familiar, smooth voice interrupted her flow like nails on a chalkboard.

"Well, if it isn't Vivien Hart," Ren Ashford drawled, his words carrying a teasing lilt that instantly made her blood boil.

Vivien stiffened, her posture freezing for a moment before she forced herself to turn. There he was, leaning against a nearby cocktail table with the casual arrogance of someone who knew he was both noticed and admired. His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement, and that maddening half-smile tugged at his lips.

"Ren," Vivien said coolly, her voice clipped. "Fancy seeing you here. I thought you only showed up to parties with free swag bags."

The executive she'd been speaking to chuckled nervously and excused herself, clearly not wanting to get caught in whatever this was. Vivien's jaw tightened. Perfect. Just perfect.

Ren's smile widened as he sauntered closer. "Still sharp-tongued, I see. And here I thought time might have softened you."

"I could say the same about you," Vivien said, crossing her arms. "But then again, humility doesn't seem to be your strong suit."

Ren chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Humility doesn't trend. You, of all people, should know that."

"Not everything has to trend, Ren," Vivien shot back, her tone laced with disdain. "Some of us still believe in substance over flash."

"Substance?" Ren's brows lifted, and he tilted his head, mock-curious. "Like that pitch you were just giving? What was it this time? Detox teas? Glow-up challenges? Inspirational quotes about 'living your best life'?"

Vivien's cheeks flushed as she clenched her fists at her sides. "It's called wellness with integrity—something you wouldn't understand."

Ren's grin didn't falter. If anything, it grew wider. "Integrity. Right. Because you're so different from everyone else in this room."

"I am different," Vivien snapped, her voice rising slightly. A few nearby heads turned toward the escalating exchange. "Unlike you, I'm not faking my way through life with half-baked stunts and empty promises."

"Empty promises?" Ren echoed, placing a hand over his chest in mock offense. "That's harsh, Hart, even for you."

"Don't act like you're surprised," Vivien retorted, narrowing her eyes. "You've made an entire career out of being superficial."

"And yet," Ren said, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, "you're still paying attention to my career. Fascinating."

Vivien's breath hitched, but she quickly recovered, standing taller. "Don't flatter yourself."

"Oh, I don't need to," Ren said, his tone softening just enough to unnerve her. "Congratulations on the Veridia deal last year, by the way. Very on-brand for you."

Vivien froze, her carefully constructed armor cracking for just a moment. How did he know about that? She hadn't publicized it much, preferring to keep it as a quiet win for her portfolio.

Her silence was all the confirmation Ren needed. He leaned back, studying her with a mixture of amusement and something deeper—something that almost felt like respect.

"You're good, Hart," he said, his voice quieter now. "I'll give you that. But don't think for a second that I don't see right through you."

Before Vivien could formulate a response, the click and flash of cameras jolted her back into the moment.

"Over here! Vivien, Ren—can we get a photo?"

Vivien's stomach twisted as she realized they'd drawn a small crowd of photographers, their lenses trained on her and Ren like they were the evening's main event.

Ren, naturally, played along effortlessly. He stepped closer, sliding an arm around her shoulders with the ease of someone who'd done this a hundred times. Vivien's muscles tensed at the contact, but Ren only leaned in closer, his grin as charming as ever.

"Smile, Hart," he whispered, his breath warm against her ear. "This is great PR."

Vivien forced a tight, practiced smile, silently vowing to make him pay for this later. The camera flashes intensified as the two of them posed like old friends—or something more.

When the photographers finally backed off, Ren let his arm drop but didn't step away. His gaze lingered on Vivien for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable in his expression.

"Nice seeing you again, Vivien," he said smoothly. "Try not to get too worked up, okay? It's just a party."

Vivien stared after him as he sauntered back toward the bar, her emotions a volatile mix of irritation, confusion, and—much to her annoyance—a grudging admiration for how effortlessly he commanded the room.

---

Vivien escaped to the rooftop terrace of The Luxe Hotel, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. The cool night air greeted her as she stepped outside, but it did little to calm the fire raging in her chest. She leaned against the railing, taking in the sweeping view of Los Angeles below—glittering lights stretched endlessly, a deceptive picture of serenity.

Her mind raced, replaying her encounter with Ren Ashford. His smug grin, his infuriating jabs, the way he had effortlessly turned her evening upside down. And the cameras—why did there always have to be cameras?

"Smile, Hart," she muttered to herself, mocking his voice. "This is great PR."

The nerve of him. Vivien clenched her fists, the sharp chill of the railing biting into her palms. She had spent years building her brand, crafting a reputation of authenticity and integrity. And now, in the span of a single evening, Ren had managed to overshadow all of it with a staged photo and a trending hashtag.

The sound of the terrace door opening pulled her from her thoughts. She didn't have to turn to know it was Chloe—her assistant's presence was as comforting as it was predictable.

"I brought reinforcements," Chloe said, handing Vivien a glass of sparkling water.

Vivien took the glass without a word, staring out at the city. Chloe leaned against the railing beside her, the silence between them familiar and unpressured.

"So," Chloe said finally, breaking the quiet. "Want to talk about it?"

Vivien let out a sharp breath, her lips pressing into a thin line. "What's there to talk about? He's insufferable, and now the internet thinks we're some kind of star-crossed enemies-to-lovers story."

Chloe raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Well, you are enemies. And people do love a good 'will-they-won't-they' narrative."

Vivien shot her a glare. "Don't encourage this."

Chloe shrugged, unbothered. "I'm just saying, the hashtags are blowing up. #VivienVsRen is trending, and so is #EnemiesToLovers. Honestly, this might be the best accidental PR you've ever had."

Vivien groaned, pulling out her phone. Sure enough, her notifications were flooded with mentions, retweets, and clips from the night. The photo of her and Ren—his arm casually draped around her shoulders, her smile so forced it made her cringe—had already gone viral.

"I worked so hard to separate myself from this kind of nonsense," Vivien muttered, scrolling through the comments. "And now my brand is being reduced to a meme."

Chloe tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. "Or it's being elevated to the top of everyone's minds."

Vivien looked at her, incredulous. "Are you serious?"

Chloe nodded. "Think about it. You've been trying to position yourself as the go-to influencer for authentic, meaningful content, right? What better way to prove that than by taking this mess and turning it into something powerful? If people are talking, you have their attention. The question is, what are you going to do with it?"

Vivien sighed, refreshing her notifications. The public's reaction was a chaotic mix of curiosity, amusement, and outright shipping.

@User789: "OMG, the tension between Vivien and Ren. I'm LIVING for this. #EnemiesToLovers"

@InfluencerWatch: "Vivien Hart vs. Ren Ashford: The influencer feud we didn't know we needed."

@HartFanForever: "I'm so tired of people thinking Vivien's success isn't earned. She's amazing. Ren can take a seat."

@AshfordArmy: "Ren is just teasing her because he likes her. Call it now: they'll be dating in a month."

Vivien scrolled faster, her frustration mounting. The public didn't know her. They didn't see the sleepless nights, the endless pitches, the constant pressure to stay relevant without compromising her values. To them, she was just a character in a drama they could dissect from the comfort of their couches.

"Chloe," Vivien said, her voice tight. "Tell me this blows over in twenty-four hours."

Chloe's silence said it all.

---

Chloe finally broke the silence. "You're letting him get to you, you know."

Vivien frowned, looking at her assistant. "I'm not—"

"You are," Chloe said firmly, cutting her off. "Ren Ashford is under your skin, and it's driving you crazy. But the thing is, he knows it. And if you don't stop reacting to him, he's going to keep winning."

Vivien opened her mouth to argue but stopped. Chloe wasn't wrong. Ren had always thrived on attention—whether it was positive or negative didn't matter. By letting him rile her up, she was playing directly into his hands.

"So what do I do?" Vivien asked, her voice quieter now.

Chloe's eyes gleamed with a mix of mischief and strategy. "You turn the tables. Play the game, but on your terms. Make this your narrative—not his."

Vivien stared at her, the gears in her mind beginning to turn. As much as she hated to admit it, Chloe had a point. If people were already watching, maybe it was time to give them something worth talking about.

---

Vivien took another sip of her sparkling water, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. She wasn't sure what her next move would be, but one thing was clear: she wasn't going to let Ren Ashford define her story.

"Alright," she said, setting her glass down and straightening her posture. "Let's figure out how to spin this."

Chloe grinned, pulling out her phone. "Now that's the Vivien Hart I know."

Vivien's lips curved into a faint smile as she gazed out at the city lights. This wasn't the first time she'd faced a challenge, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. But if Ren Ashford wanted to play games, he'd soon find out that Vivien Hart didn't lose.