Chapter 54

Vivian tossed Julian's business card into the nearest trash bin without a second thought. His threats meant nothing to her. She'd saved Ethan's life, after all. Surely he wouldn't turn on her over some harmless deception.

Still, Julian's mention of the Blackwood family's troubles nagged at her.

Who would dare target the Blackwoods of Newport City so openly?

For a moment, she considered asking Liam to investigate. But then she remembered—she and Ethan were getting divorced soon. Why bother?

She pushed the thought aside. The Blackwoods had never appreciated her sacrifices these past four years. It was time to focus on herself.

The afternoon sun beckoned, perfect for some retail therapy. She dialed Sophia.

"Meet me at The Grand Plaza at three," Vivian said.

As she waited, her hand drifted to her stomach. The twins would arrive in two months. What had once felt like a burden now filled her with quiet anticipation.

"Viv!" Sophia's voice cut through the crowd.

The Osborne heiress looked every inch the socialite in her designer ensemble, yet she bounded toward Vivian like an overexcited puppy. Theodore Osborne's pampered daughter only showed this side to Vivian—hence her nickname "the golden airhead."

"You finally called!" Sophia crushed her in a hug before inspecting her healing injuries. "Liam's been hogging you like some possessive guard dog. As if he stands a chance against our bond!" She punctuated this with dramatic cheek kisses.

Vivian laughed, swatting her away. "Enough. Let's shop."

"Chanel or Prada? Ugh, this mall doesn't even have Hermès. Tragic." Sophia wrinkled her nose at the plebeian surroundings.

"Window shopping first."

Yet Vivian found herself steering them straight to the fourth-floor baby boutiques. Tiny outfits lined the displays, each more adorable than the last.

"This romper! And these booties!" Vivian's fingers traced the impossibly small garments, her voice rising with excitement. "Sophia, look at this lace dress!"

Sophia gaped from the doorway. Since when did Vivian—who once compared children to noisy gremlins—squeal over baby clothes?

Something was definitely up.

Vivian drifted deeper into the store, drawn to a porcelain doll on display. Her hand had just grazed its curls when—

"Ms. Lockhart?"

Cassandra Delacroix stood there, the doll now clutched in her manicured hands. Behind her, Eleanor Whitmore's eyes narrowed.

"Stalking us now, Vivian?" Ethan's mother sneered.

Cassandra cradled her visible baby bump. "Are you... expecting too?" Her sweet tone dripped venom as she deliberately brushed her swollen abdomen against Vivian's arm.