Chapter 38

The tension dissipated as Haze's figure disappeared through the doors.

"If that's all," Vivian said coolly to Nathaniel, "I'll be leaving now."

She'd already played her part in their little public charade. With Haze gone, there was absolutely no reason to remain at Blackwood Group headquarters.

"Clear your evening schedule." Nathaniel's command cut through the air as he buried himself in paperwork without looking up.

His domineering tone grated on Vivian's nerves. That arrogant assumption she'd obey without question.

"For what?" she snapped.

Instead of answering, Nathaniel opened his desk drawer and produced an elegant gift box. "Eight o'clock sharp at The Grand Marquis' banquet hall," he said, pushing it across the desk. "Dress appropriately."

Vivian's eyebrows shot up. "A gift? Should I check if hell's frozen over too?"

Curiosity got the better of her. She flipped open the lid to reveal a silver designer gown - undoubtedly expensive but painfully conservative.

She opened her mouth to protest, then paused as an idea struck. A slow, mischievous smile curved her lips.

"Fine. I'll be there."

At precisely eight that evening, The Grand Marquis' valet parking resembled an auto show with its parade of luxury vehicles.

The Newport City Annual Charity Gala attracted elite society from across the country and beyond.

Vivian arrived via taxi, her drab trench coat and messy bun standing in stark contrast to the glittering attendees.

"Invitation?" The security guard blocked her path.

"I don't have one."

"Then beat it. This isn't some public fundraiser."

Clearly this man didn't keep up with society news, or he'd recognize Nathaniel Blackwood's soon-to-be-ex-wife.

Vivian drew breath to explain when a crimson Ferrari screeched to a halt nearby. Out stepped Nathaniel's cousin Charlotte Whitmore in a pink couture gown, preening like royalty.

Her entourage included her latest arm candy, Micah Larson, and... Cassandra Delacroix.

"Careful, Cassie," Charlotte cooed with uncharacteristic gentleness, supporting the pregnant woman's arm. "Remember you're carrying my cousin's heir."

Her saccharine smile vanished when she spotted Vivian. "Lockhart? What are you doing here?"

Their mutual animosity dated back to Vivian's marriage. Charlotte had never missed an opportunity to belittle her.

"Same as you," Vivian replied evenly. "Attending the gala."

Charlotte's laugh was razor-sharp. "You? The leech who's about to be tossed aside? This event's for actual society, not gold-digging trash."

"Charlotte," Cassandra interjected with false sweetness, "be civil. She's still family, technically."

"Not for long!" Charlotte turned to the guard. "She's nobody now. Don't waste courtesy on discarded wives."

Vivian smirked. "Funny, I was just thinking how much I enjoy being Mrs. Blackwood. Maybe I'll withdraw the divorce petition. Did you know either party can cancel proceedings before finalization?"

The color drained from both women's faces.