Chapter 192

“Warren, take Natalie inside,” Melissa ordered. The entire Mitchell family stood clustered at the entrance; neglecting guests would fuel harmful rumors. Warren gave a curt nod and guided Natalie away.

As soon as they disappeared, Diana’s face contorted with frustration. “Vivienne must have done this deliberately.”

Melissa shot her a sharp look. “Enough! Do you want Grandfather to confine you again?”

Diana stiffened, her lips a thin line. Her previous confinement, following her grandfather’s birthday party, had lasted a month. Only today’s Mitchell Group anniversary celebration, and her persistent pleading, had secured her release. Beside her, Melissa’s anxiety was palpable; her hands clenched into fists. She'd arranged everything with the reporters inside. Vivienne's absence would unravel her entire plan.

The tension was unbearable, each second agonizing. Even Everett, usually composed, couldn't mask his unease. He knew Vivienne; if she'd agreed to come, she wouldn't renege without reason. Had someone warned her about the event's true purpose?

Then, a sleek white Bentley Continental glided into view. From the passenger seat, Scarlett saw the Mitchells gathered at the hotel entrance. Her brow furrowed. “Why are they all standing there? Waiting for someone?”

Vivienne's gaze sharpened, a slow, sardonic smile playing on her lips. “They’re waiting for me.”

A few days earlier, after lunch, Sienna had briefed Scarlett and Rosalie on Vivienne's past with the Mitchells. Hearing that Vivienne had been ostracized because of her family background, Scarlett had exclaimed, “They must be blind!” Now, witnessing their behavior, Scarlett found their sudden change baffling.

“They’re trying to win me over,” Vivienne stated evenly. Three years under their roof had revealed their true natures. To them, she’d been merely a tool for social advancement, never truly family.

The car stopped, and Vivienne exited with practiced grace. Her gaze swept the waiting figures before settling on Everett. She inclined her head slightly. “Good evening, Mr. Mitchell.” Her politeness masked a chilling coolness, distant and unreadable.

Everett felt a surge of sadness, but swallowed it, forcing a strained smile before turning toward the hotel.

“Vivienne, we were just talking about you,” Marianne interjected, her smile strained. “Perfect timing. Let’s go inside.”

Vivienne studied her, her expression blank. “I preferred your former haughty demeanor.”

A few onlookers stifled amused smirks. Marianne's forced warmth vanished. The pretense was over.

Inside the banquet hall, luxury reigned—glittering crystal, hushed conversations, the refined laughter of elegantly dressed guests. The sharp click of heels on marble silenced the chatter, drawing all eyes to the entrance. The grand doors swung open, and Vivienne entered.

Her crisp business attire contrasted sharply with the extravagant gowns and glittering jewelry, yet her poised presence commanded attention, effortlessly eclipsing the crowd. Her bearing—an aura cultivated over time—suggested a mastery over her world. The chandelier's light highlighted her high cheekbones and delicate features. Her lips curved subtly, a silent challenge. She was a deadly bloom in full, dangerous, captivating splendor.

“Who is that woman?” someone whispered in awe.