Chapter 394

ShadowWalker's reply flashed on screen: "Maybe I'll show up. Maybe I won't."

The arrogance practically dripped from those words. Even without seeing his face, they could picture the smirk.

Emily clicked open ShadowWalker's profile. Blank. Completely empty.

"Brand new account. Default avatar. Zero information. Yet his first move was dropping 4 million dollars." Emily's eyes narrowed. "He came specifically for you, Vivian."

She leaned forward, voice dropping to a whisper. "Think it's Nathaniel Blackwood?"

Vivian Lockhart's lips curved as she studied the generic silhouette. "Possibly. We'll know tomorrow."

She could trace his IP in seconds if she wanted. But where was the fun in that? The mystery intrigued her. Would he actually appear?

The clock struck midnight when Vivian finally returned to Sophia Osborne's penthouse.

Nathaniel wasn't the only surprise waiting. Oliver Prescott sat stiffly on the sofa, worry lines etching his usually carefree face.

"Finally." Oliver sprang up, relief washing over him. "Another hour and I would've mobilized SWAT."

Sophia rolled her eyes. "Drama queen. Who could possibly touch her? She's the predator, not the prey." Her manicured fingers gestured at the muted TV screen still displaying Vivian's livestream highlights. "Did you see tonight's numbers? My girl broke records. Two hours. Millions harvested. You should teach masterclasses, Viv."

Vivian stretched, exhaustion creeping in. "It's late. Aren't you two tired?"

"Couldn't sleep," Sophia confessed, grabbing Vivian's wrist. "Not until we dissect tonight's mystery." Her eyes glittered with mischief. "The 4 million dollar man. Who is he?"

Vivian shrugged. "No idea."

"Liar."

"Honestly."

"You're not even curious?"

Vivian smirked. "Money's cleared. That's all that matters."

Her gaze shifted to Oliver's unusual silence. Normally he'd be cracking jokes by now.

She nudged him playfully. "What's with the long face, Master Prescott? Not jealous it wasn't you, I hope?"

Oliver ran a hand through his hair, the gesture weary. "Wish I could play sugar daddy. These days?" He laughed bitterly. "The Prescott fortune's tied up in Lockhart Enterprises. I need three approvals just to expense a business lunch."

Vivian ruffled his hair like comforting a child. "Poor baby. No more playboy funds. Don't worry—"

"I'm serious, Viv." Oliver caught her hand, uncharacteristically earnest. "The gold-diggers vanished when the money dried up. You're all I've got now."

She laughed, but there was warmth in it. "Relax. Once we settle this mess, I'll marry you. Keep you in the lifestyle you deserve."

The words were teasing, but something flickered in Oliver's eyes—something that wasn't joking at all.