Chapter 366

The night had deepened by the time Vivian bid farewell to Sophia and Liam.

Waves crashed rhythmically against the shore, restoring the beach house to its usual tranquil state. The sweet scent of night-blooming jasmine lingered in the air.

Vivian's fingers brushed absently over various objects—a vase, a book, the edge of the coffee table—as if searching for distraction. She even devoted thirty minutes to pampering Marmalade with fresh catnip, using the playful interaction to avoid confronting her restless thoughts.

Yet her eyes kept drifting toward the sleek laptop on the desk. Her fingers twitched with suppressed curiosity.

Finally, she surrendered. The laptop screen flickered to life beneath her touch.

With practiced keystrokes, she bypassed security protocols and accessed the film distributor's database. Moments later, she'd downloaded "Chasing My Lockhart," Ethan Blackwood's highly anticipated directorial debut.

She had to see for herself whether the rave reviews were justified.

The film ran for two hours. Vivian dimmed the lights in her private screening room, prepared popcorn and sparkling water, then settled into the plush sofa.

From the opening scene, the craftsmanship was undeniable. Every frame held purpose, every detail meticulously curated.

Then came the rain-soaked meeting between the leads—a scene that mirrored Vivian's own memories with painful accuracy.

Her throat tightened. This wasn't just a movie; it was a reflection of her past with Ethan, condensed into 120 minutes of bittersweet nostalgia.

The second half took creative liberties, depicting an idyllic domestic life that never was—raising children together, sharing quiet mornings. Until one fateful argument shattered the illusion.

The male lead's subsequent journey across continents, sending postcards from every stop, filled an entire suitcase with unsent letters. The film's ambiguous ending—"You're back," whispered in a dream—left Vivian clutching a wad of tissues.

"Damn you, Ethan," she muttered, wiping her cheeks. The man had turned their history into award-worthy cinema while casting himself as the tragic romantic hero.

The screening room lights brightened abruptly.

Evelyn Whitmore appeared in the doorway, concern etching her features. "Miss Lockhart? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just—"

Vivian couldn't admit she'd been emotionally wrecked by her ex-husband's cinematic masterpiece.

"Did Marmalade bother you?" Evelyn scolded the orange tabby now curled on Vivian's lap. "I've told you, Miss Lockhart is carrying twins! No jumping on her stomach!"

Marmalade flicked his tail indignantly and leapt down, settling before the still-glowing screen as if contemplating the film's artistic merits himself.