Chapter 406

Ethan's voice was rough with barely contained fury. His lips brushed against Vivian's ear as he spoke, each word dripping with pain. "Vivian Lockhart, you're the coldest woman I've ever known."

Four years of suppressed emotions erupted like a volcano, impossible to contain.

His arms locked around her with crushing force, as if he could fuse their bodies together. As if that were the only way to keep her from vanishing again.

The embrace was suffocating, bordering on painful. Vivian winced but didn't pull away.

She could have thrown him across the room effortlessly. Yet she stayed still, pliant in his arms like a docile creature.

This was the embrace she'd once ached for—fierce, possessive, burning with intensity. But now? It left her hollow.

Love could ignite in an instant. Letting go took longer, but four years had been enough. She'd moved on.

When Ethan finally released her, his reluctance was palpable. He didn't step back, keeping her within reach.

"Don't read into that," he muttered. "It meant nothing."

Vivian nodded. "Of course."

Her calm indifference infuriated him. It was like punching a cloud—all force, no impact.

He controlled empires with a word. Yet this woman had always eluded him, past and present. The frustration was maddening.

"If you hate me so much, why didn't you fight back?" he demanded. "You're more than capable."

Vivian shrugged. "You misunderstand, Mr. Blackwood. I don't hate you. We were married once. A reunion hug seems... polite."

"How gracious." His laugh was bitter. "I never took you for someone so detached, Miss Lockhart. Did you really think four years in hiding would erase what you did?"

She knew this confrontation was inevitable. "Then what do you want from me?"

"Do you have any idea what you cost Cassandra?" Pain flickered across his face. "She lost her child because of you. Her womb had to be removed. She'll never be a mother."

Guilt had eaten at him for years. His brother's bloodline, severed. A woman's life, destroyed. He'd buried the grief in work, punishing himself daily.

Now Vivian stood before him—the catalyst of it all. It was time to settle this.

"Intentional or not, that child died by your hand. Cassandra attempted suicide multiple times. You owe her an apology."

Vivian's composure faltered. "It's that bad?"

She hadn't anticipated such lasting damage. The old Vivian would never have apologized to someone like Cassandra Delacroix.

But motherhood had changed her. She understood that kind of loss now.

"I'll handle it," she said coolly. After a beat, she added, "But this is between Cassandra and me. Stay out of it. If you get hurt interfering, that's on you."

Ethan hadn't expected such easy compliance. Beneath the anger, something ached—sharp and unnameable.