Chapter 167

Vivienne’s features settled into an impassive mask as she replied with glacial precision. “I have neither the time nor the inclination to engage in this conversation.”

As she turned to leave, Warren’s fingers closed around her wrist with desperate urgency. “Vivienne, I understand our separation deeply wounded you. I’ve promised to make amends; why won’t you give me that opportunity?”

“You expect forgiveness to flow freely after a simple apology, as if nothing happened?” Vivienne raised her gaze, her eyes piercing Warren’s facade like winter frost. Her crimson lips curved into a sneer. “I’ve made myself clear—reconciliation is impossible.”

Warren’s grip tightened, his voice hardening. “So you’ve decided to consider me a stranger.”

“What alternative did you imagine?” A current of bitter mockery laced Vivienne’s words. “Did you expect me to succumb to unrequited love, consumed by jealousy, and then unleash my bitterness on Natalie?”

Warren flinched at her pointed remark. “Direct any grievances toward me. Natalie is blameless.”

Finding dark amusement in his statement, Vivienne wrenched her wrist free and turned away decisively.

Warren watched her retreat into the inner sanctum, his brow furrowed in confusion. This newfound intimacy between Vivienne and the Vaughn family perplexed him. How had she gained such privileged access to the inner banquet area? The Vaughn family’s wedding celebrations welcomed Lyhaton’s elite, but a screen clearly divided the social strata. The outer chamber was for general socializing; the inner sanctum hosted the exclusive banquet. Access to the inner sanctum denoted membership in society’s highest echelon.

The attendant who witnessed the confrontation addressed Vivienne with measured politeness. “Miss Hayes, shall we arrange for Mr. Mitchell’s departure?” The diplomatic phrasing barely concealed the threat of forceful removal.

Vivienne regarded the attendant thoughtfully, a courteous yet distant smile playing on her crimson lips. “Thank you.”

Sienna released a subtle sigh of relief upon hearing Vivienne’s response.

“What prompts that sigh?” Vivienne asked, genuine puzzlement in her tone.

“I feared your resolve might waver,” Sienna admitted.

A soft laugh escaped Vivienne’s lips. “He hardly deserves such consideration.”

As they crossed the inner dining area, Owen approached, critically assessing Vivienne’s attire. “What inspired this understated choice of dress?” While other women wore ostentatious finery, vying for attention, Vivienne wore an elegant white suit that spoke of refined restraint.

Vivienne arched an eyebrow. “Does my choice displease you?” She explained that another’s wedding demanded tasteful discretion, not an attempt to overshadow the bride.

“Grandfather requests your presence,” Owen announced, gesturing subtly.

Vivienne handed her glass to Owen before gracefully moving toward Benjamin.

Benjamin beckoned her forward warmly. “Vivienne, come meet Mr. Vaughn.”

“Good evening, Mr. Vaughn,” Vivienne greeted him with appropriate deference.

Wesley responded with genuine warmth, his gaze appraising her. “Vivienne, you grow more captivating each day. I wonder what fortunate young man will eventually win your affections.”

Such speculation about her romantic future left Vivienne, still charting her own course, with little recourse but a diplomatic smile.