Chapter 183

Ethan Blackwood reached for his phone, fingers moving automatically to dial Vivian Lockhart's number. Then it hit him—she'd blocked him. The realization made his blood boil.

"Rachel!" His voice cut through the office like a whip.

Rachel Miles stepped inside cautiously. "Yes, Mr. Blackwood?"

"Give me your phone."

"My—my phone?"

Confused but obedient, she handed it over.

Ethan wasted no time redialing Vivian's number.

Three rings. Then—

"Hello?"

Vivian's voice was light, almost cheerful. Of course she was happy. She'd just swindled him out of hundreds of thousands.

"Sounds like you're enjoying yourself," Ethan said, jaw tight.

The moment she recognized his voice, her tone shifted. "I'm doing just fine, thanks."

"Impressive business sense. Half a million gone in seconds. I underestimated you."

"Flattery won't get you unblocked," she shot back. "But if you're feeling generous, I could use more for my renovations."

Ethan clenched his teeth. The woman who used to bend to his every whim was now driving him insane.

"Since I just funded your little project, the least you could do is unblock me." He forced calm into his voice. That money had to be good for something.

"No." Her refusal was instant. "It was a gift. Want it back? Sue me. Good luck winning, though."

"You—"

The line went dead.

She'd hung up on him.

Calling again would be pathetic. She wouldn’t answer anyway.

Fine. If she wanted to play games, he’d play.

"Rachel," he snapped. "Get me a new SIM card. Now."

Rachel had heard everything. Watching the mighty Ethan Blackwood reduced to this? Karma was a bitch.

Love turns even kings into fools.

Lockhart Manor

Vivian tossed her phone aside after hanging up. The satisfaction of irritating Ethan faded fast, leaving something hollow.

Her ex-husband, groveling—not for her, but for another woman. It stung more than she’d admit.

Four years of playing the perfect wife. Swallowing every insult. And for what? A cheating bastard who picked Cassandra Delacroix over her.

Not even someone worthy. Just a scheming, two-faced—

Ugh.

She went to bed early, but sleep wouldn’t come.

Moonlight spilled through the window. She grabbed her phone, scrolling absently until a notification caught her eye—a new friend request.

The profile picture: a lone moon over dark waves. The message: "Up for a chat?"

She almost ignored it. But boredom won. She accepted.

The account was blank. No friends. No posts. Freshly made.

Her first thought: Ethan.

But no. The CEO of Blackwood Group wouldn’t stoop to this.

The stranger stayed silent. Curiosity got the better of her.

"Do I know you?"

The status flickered to typing...