Chapter 208

A man with a bulky DSLR camera dangling from his neck approached them with an eager smile. "Excuse me," he began politely. "I'm Julian Carter, a freelance photographer. I've been working on a personal project about modern families. The way your family was walking together just now—it was so touching I couldn't resist capturing the moment. Would you mind if I shared these photos online?"

"Absolutely not."

Nathaniel Blackwood's voice was sharp, his glare cutting through the air like ice.

The photographer flinched, swallowing hard. "My apologies. I'll delete them right away." He fumbled with his camera, his expression pained as he prepared to erase what he considered his best shots of the week.

What a shame. The composition was flawless—the golden sunlight, the effortless elegance of the subjects, the genuine warmth between them. Every frame was magazine-worthy. A single post could have skyrocketed his Instagram following.

But now, he had to wipe them all. It hurt more than throwing away a winning lottery ticket.

Nathaniel's cold voice interrupted his thoughts. "Before you delete them, send me the files first."

"Wait—what?"

The photographer hesitated, his pride stung. This felt like handing over his hard work for free.

Nathaniel, ever perceptive, didn’t miss a beat. "Name your price."

The man's eyes lit up instantly. "Right away, sir! Just enable Bluetooth, and I'll transfer them now."

As the two men focused on the transaction, Vivian Lockhart stood forgotten between them. Her irritation grew with every passing second.

First, this stranger had taken photos without consent. Now, Nathaniel was claiming them without even consulting her. She was right there.

"I don’t think so."

Vivian snatched Nathaniel’s phone before he could react. Her cheeks flushed with anger. "I didn’t agree to any of this. Delete them. All of them."

"Give that back."

Nathaniel reached for the phone, his expression darkening.

What followed was an undignified tug-of-war in the middle of the sidewalk, drawing amused glances from passersby. The photographer wisely decided to retreat, clutching his camera like a lifeline.

Vivian swiped through Nathaniel’s gallery, intending to wipe the unauthorized photos—until she froze.

There, among the files, was another picture of her.

It was a candid shot—her laughing under a shower of cherry blossom petals, looking straight out of a romance drama. The lighting, the angle—it was stunning. She barely recognized herself.

But the realization that Nathaniel had secretly taken it sent a strange flutter through her chest.

"Since when do you sneak photos of me?" She narrowed her eyes, scrolling further. "Let’s see what else you’ve been hiding."

To her surprise, his gallery was bizarrely sparse—no other people, just endless shots of houseplants.

Her houseplants.

Then she stumbled upon something that made her breath catch.

"No way." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "How do you even have this?"