Chapter 66: Blame Herself
Vivienne nervously chewed her lip, a blush creeping onto her face as she hesitated, unsure how to respond. Her phone rang unexpectedly. Quickly, she retrieved it from her bag. The caller ID made her eyes narrow, an icy chill settling over her features. She declined the call, but it rang again, relentlessly. Finally, under Derek’s watchful gaze, she answered.
“Vivienne, you’ve gone too far this time!” Warren’s voice blazed, unfiltered and accusatory.
Vivienne chuckled softly, a touch of mockery in her voice. “Mr. Mitchell, I’m curious—what gives you the right to reprimand me, and from what position do you speak?”
“I know you hate me, but you shouldn’t take it out on Natalie. She’s innocent!” Warren retorted, his tone icy as he listed her supposed transgressions. “Even if Natalie made a mistake, you shouldn’t ruin her career. How is that different from destroying her?”
The weight of Warren’s accusations elicited a bitter laugh from Vivienne. “She has no one but herself to blame.”
Warren sighed, a deep, disappointed sound that resonated through the phone. “You’re becoming a stranger to me.”
“Do you think I care?” Vivienne sneered, her voice dripping with disdain.
Just as she was about to hang up, Warren stopped her. “This weekend is my grandfather’s 80th birthday celebration. He hopes you can come.”
Vivienne remembered her introduction to the Mitchell family. Everett Mitchell, Warren’s grandfather, had been the only one to welcome her warmly, fiercely supporting her relationship with Warren. Before their breakup, he’d even given her a family heirloom—a jade bracelet. She still possessed it and felt it right to return it to its rightful owner.
“Vivienne,” Warren’s voice softened, urgency creeping in. “Whatever issues we have are between us. Don’t involve my grandfather.”
He paused, his words more pleading. “You know how much he’s cared for you these past three years. If you have any conscience left—”
Vivienne couldn’t bear Warren’s condescending tone. She hung up before he could finish, shoved her phone back into her bag, took a steadying breath, and turned to Derek. “Sorry for interrupting your meal.”
“Why apologize?” Derek’s brow furrowed slightly, concern in his voice. “You haven’t done anything wrong, have you?”
The thought of returning to the Mitchell family home, of facing Everett again, stirred an uncomfortable mix of indignation and something deeper within Vivienne. Her expression grew distant as she wrestled with her emotions.
“Would you like to go for a walk?” Derek suggested gently, extending his hand. “The night is quite beautiful.”
Vivienne paused, staring at his outstretched hand, then placed hers in his with a slow, deliberate motion. “Let’s go.”
As Derek had said, the night was stunning. The crescent moon hung low, a delicate silver scythe against the velvet sky, casting an ethereal glow that seemed both near and unreachable, its coldness a stark contrast to the warm vibrancy of Lyhaton’s city lights below.
Hand in hand, they crossed the bridge, their footsteps echoing softly on the stone. But amidst the lively hum of the streets, Vivienne couldn’t shake her unease and gently withdrew her hand from Derek’s.
A cool breeze made Vivienne shiver. Without a word, Derek draped his suit jacket over her shoulders, the warmth a silent comfort against the chill.