Chapter 140

"What more do you want from me?"

Vivian stared into Ethan's glassy eyes, the memory of that night flooding back—when he'd cornered her just like this, his dominance leaving no room for refusal. And then, afterward? He'd acted as if nothing had happened between them. That cowardly retreat, that refusal to acknowledge what they'd shared—it infuriated her beyond reason.

"Since I've clearly won," she said, her voice sharp as ice, "I don't owe you another second of my time while you act like a petulant child. Accept your loss gracefully and stop wasting mine."

The anger she'd suppressed for so long finally boiled over. Without a backward glance, she turned on her heel and strode out, her expression colder than the winter wind.

Ethan stood frozen, as if she'd slapped him. For a long moment, he didn’t move, his face an unreadable mask of icy detachment.

The tension in the room was suffocating. The guests exchanged uneasy glances, stunned into silence. The Vivian Lockhart they'd heard about was supposed to be meek, refined—the perfect society wife. But the woman who had just stormed out? She was a force of nature.

In all of Newport City, who else would dare challenge Ethan Blackwood so boldly? Was this sheer audacity, or did she truly believe she was untouchable because of his lingering affection?

Ethan Young knew his boss was drunk. And drunk Ethan was a nightmare. History had proven that. Before things escalated, he quickly dismissed the guests with a strained smile. If Ethan lost control in front of them, his reputation would be in ruins.

The guests, sensing the danger, murmured their goodbyes and slipped out without protest.

One older gentleman, wise enough to recognize a man drowning in pride, clapped Ethan on the shoulder. "Don't let her walk away, Mr. Blackwood. If she's running, you chase. That's how it's always been."

"Chase her?" Ethan scoffed, swaying dangerously. "Never! I wouldn’t take her back even if she begged on her knees!"

Ethan Young guided him into a chair, sighing. "You're drunk, sir. Let me take you home."

"I'm not drunk!" Ethan snapped, jabbing a finger at the empty decanter. "Get another bottle. And drag Vivian back here. I will beat her tonight!"

"Sir," Ethan Young said, wiping his brow, "Mrs. Lockhart is gone. Everyone’s left. The dinner is over. Let’s just go home."

Ethan blinked, scanning the empty room. "Fine. Then we’re going out."

He pushed himself up, staggering toward the door.

Ethan Young caught him before he face-planted. "It's late, sir. You need rest."

"Rest?" Ethan whirled on him, eyes blazing. "I'm Ethan Blackwood. I don’t need rest. I’m going to party until dawn!"

Ethan Young rubbed his temples. Here we go again.

"Take me to the usual place," Ethan demanded. "You know where."

Half an hour later, they arrived at an upscale karaoke lounge. The manager led them to the VIP room, smirking. "Would you like some company, gentlemen? We have very talented escorts."

"Just bring snacks and drinks," Ethan Young snapped.

The manager glanced at the barely coherent Ethan, then back at him, suddenly understanding. "Ah. Of course. But just so you know, we cater to all preferences here. Don’t hesitate to ask."

"Get out!" Ethan Young nearly threw a chair at him.

When he turned back, Ethan was sprawled on the couch, having queued up a hundred songs. He pointed at the screen. "Sing with me."

Ethan Young prayed for divine intervention.

Every time his boss got drunk, karaoke was inevitable. But a hundred songs? At this rate, Ethan would lose his voice before sunrise.

No. This had to stop. Now.