Chapter 232

Nathaniel Blackwood picked up two crystal glasses and poured amber liquid into each—one for himself, the other for Ethan.

"Here's to you." He raised his glass. "Thank you for setting Vivian free. She's thriving now, more confident than ever. You're practically a saint."

Nathaniel downed his drink without hesitation. His words weren't empty politeness—he meant every syllable. If Ethan hadn't been such a cold-hearted bastard and forced the divorce, Vivian would still be nothing more than "Ethan's wife" in everyone's eyes.

Ethan stared at the glass in his hand, emotions churning beneath his composed exterior. Anyone could see Nathaniel's toast was laced with sarcasm, yet part of him agreed with the sentiment.

To everyone's shock, Ethan accepted the drink and smirked. "True. She's different now—like a bird finally out of its cage. Free to fly wherever she pleases."

I thought a woman like her would crumble without the Blackwood name. That no man would want her. But now... His gaze flicked to Julian before returning to Nathaniel. "She's surpassed all expectations. I genuinely hope she finds happiness."

Nathaniel nearly choked on his whiskey. He hadn't expected such a raw admission from the man known for his icy demeanor.

What came next made Nathaniel sound petty in comparison. "How diplomatic of you, Mr. Blackwood. Vivian's doing exceptionally well—so well, in fact, suitors are practically lining up at her door. Gives me a run for my money." He smirked. "Though you seem to be moving on just fine yourself. Barely divorced and already parading a new woman around. Do you change lovers as often as you change ties?"

He expected denial. Ethan and that Vivian lookalike, Cassandra, barely exchanged glances all evening—they might as well have been strangers.

Instead, Ethan pulled Cassandra against him. "She's refreshingly naive. I find her... charming."

The room froze.

Oliver Prescott, ever loyal, jumped in. "Surprised? When Ethan falls, he falls hard. Love at first sight, really."

"Love at first sight?" Nathaniel scoffed. "Then why does she look exactly like Vivian? Are you saying you never loved your wife, but you're smitten with her carbon copy?"

Ethan remained silent. Oliver stepped forward, voice dropping to a growl. "You came here to pick a fight. What's your game?"

Nathaniel laughed. "Relax. I just want a drink. Unless you're scared, Mr. Blackwood?"

Before Ethan could respond, Oliver sneered. "Scared? Please. Drink him under the table, Ethan."

Ethan shot Oliver a withering look. Thanks for volunteering me as tribute.

Nathaniel refilled both glasses, amber liquid catching the light. "Your move." If Ethan had the audacity to play the villain so publicly, Nathaniel had every right to call him out.