Chapter 62

The voice belonged to Nathaniel Blackwood's childhood friend, Nathan Prescott.

Nathan's eyes widened comically when he spotted Vivian Lockhart standing beside Nathaniel. "Holy shit! Not only did Nate actually show up, but he brought his wife too? Miracles do happen! This calls for celebration!"

Nathaniel's chiseled features remained impassive as he strode forward. "I received the invitation. Naturally, I came."

Vivian trailed behind him, playing the perfect demure wife. At $100,000 per minute, she'd be damned if she didn't deliver an Oscar-worthy performance.

The private lounge screamed opulence. Crystal chandeliers cast prismatic light across marble floors, transforming the space into something out of a fairy tale.

Several affluent couples lounged on velvet couches. But the pair commanding center attention was impossible to miss.

The man wore rimless glasses that accentuated his aristocratic features. His piercing gaze radiated quiet authority - the unmistakable mark of old money. The platinum Rolex on his wrist? One-of-a-kind. Worth over ten million.

The stunning woman beside him could've stepped off a Parisian runway. Hers was the kind of beauty that made even socialites insecure.

They made a striking couple. Equally matched in looks and status.

Both froze when Nathaniel entered.

"Nathaniel, you—" The woman stood abruptly, emotions flashing across her face.

Her companion remained composed. "I'm glad you're no longer angry enough to avoid us."

Nathaniel pocketed his hands, regarding them with cool amusement. "What else would bring me here?"

Vivian's gaze darted between the trio. Oh, this was juicy. There was definitely history here.

Tension thickened the air. No one dared breathe too loud.

Nathan broke the silence, handing out champagne flutes with forced cheer. "Enough! Four years is too long for the golden trio to be apart. Let's drink!" He raised his glass. "To reconciliation!"

The seated man stood, clinking glasses with Nathaniel and Nathan. "Four years too long indeed." He drained his flute in one go.

Then his attention shifted to Vivian. "You must be the woman Nathaniel married four years ago. Vivian, correct?"

"Pleasure to meet you." Vivian flashed her most polished smile. $100,000-a-minute smile.

"Dominic Harrington. My apologies for missing your wedding. I'll make it up with three shots."

Vivian waved him off. "Nathaniel speaks of you often. Says he's missed you terribly."

Nathaniel choked on his champagne. Since when?

Dominic's eyes lit up. "You're as gracious as they say. Nathaniel's a lucky man."

Vivian bit her tongue. At this rate, she deserved a fucking raise.

Nathan scoffed. "Lucky? She's some down-on-her-luck nobody. Nathaniel, just because Olivia dumped you doesn't mean you had to settle for this—"

"Dumped?" Vivian's voice turned razor-sharp. Her gaze swept the room like a predator scenting blood. "Who the hell dared dump my husband? Point her out."