Chapter 371

The church door stood firmly closed. Nathaniel Blackwood contemplated barging in but stopped himself. That would be undignified.

Instead, he waited outside, clearing his throat sharply. "Come out. Now."

Silence.

Masking his irritation with icy composure, he added, "My patience isn't infinite. You'll regret making me come in there."

The thought infuriated him—flying across continents, hiking for hours up this damned mountain, only to be ignored. If she wouldn't respond, he'd have to drag her out himself.

He whirled around and slammed the door open. "Vivian, this is your last—"

"Surprise!" A mocking voice echoed through the empty chapel. "Fooled you, Nathaniel."

No Vivian. Just a lone teddy bear sitting on a pew, its beady eyes glinting.

The stuffed animal crackled to life, its pre-recorded laughter grating. "Hah! Mr. Blackwood, you actually fell for it. Pathetic."

"Save your energy. You'll never find me unless I want to be found."

"And when I do show up? Better be ready."

Every word was a needle to his pride. His jaw tightened.

"Vivian."

He, Nathaniel Blackwood—outsmarted by a woman.

His fingers twitched toward the bear, ready to shred it.

"Try it," the toy taunted, "and you'll never leave this island. Check your wallet."

His hand flew to his pocket. Empty.

That little thief. She'd pickpocketed him during the chaos earlier.

Chasing her now was pointless. She'd be long gone.

"Damn you! What's your game?" Rage simmered beneath his skin.

The bear's voice turned smug. "See? Nothing's what it seems."

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. Fury gave way to grudging irritation.

Exhausted. Penniless. Not even water money. Was this how he'd die—outplayed by his own wife?

Never in his life had he been this reckless. This... humiliated.

All Vivian's doing.

"Here's your task," the bear continued. "Hold me and repeat 100 times: 'Vivian Lockhart is a saint. I'm a blind fool.' Do it, and your wallet magically reappears."

"Vivian, you can't be serio—"

Beep.

Dead air.

She'd cut the feed remotely, no doubt grinning somewhere.

Nathaniel glared at the bear. No chance he'd utter those words.

Meanwhile, Vivian lounged on a sunbed, licking a mango popsicle. Her tablet showed live footage: Nathaniel, sweat-drenched, muttering to bewildered tourists, "Vivian Lockhart is a saint. I'm a blind fool."

She smirked. "Thought your little hacker could track me? Sweet of you to try."