Chapter 135

Adrian's hesitation revealed the unspoken fear that Vivian might reject his offer. Without missing a beat, he extended a peace offering. "I happen to know someone currently seeking screenplays. The compensation would far exceed what those mediocre studios could offer." If Vivian agreed, he wouldn't hesitate to finance an entire production company. The quality of her scripts mattered little to him.

He could fund her projects as effortlessly as buying a limited-edition watch or commissioning a custom gown. Before he could elaborate further, his phone vibrated, the screen illuminating with a familiar name. Adrian hesitated briefly before accepting the call.

Serena's saccharine voice immediately filled the space between them. "Adrian darling, I've been thinking—I should really stock up on more scripts to expand my options," she cooed.

The atmosphere turned glacial. Though not on speakerphone, her words carried clearly enough for all present to hear. Adrian's gaze instinctively darted toward Vivian, a shadow of discomfort crossing his features. "I'll wire two million immediately," he murmured, lowering his voice. "Occupied at the moment. We'll talk tomorrow. Get some rest."

Serena didn't push, bidding him goodnight with practiced docility before disconnecting.

Tucking his phone away, Adrian lifted his eyes to meet Vivian's penetrating glare. Her expression was a tempest of fury and betrayal, eyes shimmering with unshed accusations.

His confusion was genuine.

"Would this mysterious script buyer happen to be Serena Whitmore?" Vivian's voice quivered with restrained emotion.

The question hung between them like a gathering storm. A friend? Lucrative script deals?

Vivian felt humiliation coil tightly in her chest. After everything they'd been through, had he truly stooped this low?

The unspoken implication weighed heavily in the air. If Blackwood Group needed scripts, they could hire any writer in the industry. Why involve her specifically?

Adrian frowned, shaking his head. "No. Why must you constantly drag Serena into everything?"

Vivian's laugh was sharp enough to cut glass. "If not her, then who? I've never heard of any associates of yours needing screenplays."

Adrian's eyes shifted away, his usual composure faltering. The excuse had been fabricated on the spot, and now he couldn't conjure a single plausible name.

Vivian's suspicions solidified. It had been Serena all along.

"Adrian, this is beyond unacceptable!" she exploded.

His suppressed anger mirrored hers. Adjusting his cufflinks with sharp movements, he retorted coldly, "What exactly do you want? You demand professional respect, and I'm providing opportunities. Yet you accuse me? Even if it were for Serena, wouldn't that be preferable to those second-rate production houses? She wouldn't be nearly as critical. Are you deliberately picking a fight, or do you genuinely believe I won't file for divorce?"

Vivian's temper erupted like wildfire. "Then do it—file the papers right now!" she shouted, storming toward the exit.

But frustration rooted her to the spot. Whirling around, her voice cracked with fury. "Opportunities? You've stolen my roles for her, and now expect me to grovel at her feet? Never! I'd rather burn every script I've ever written than let that fraud butcher my heroines and turn them into laughingstocks!"

She turned to leave again, but Ethan smoothly intercepted her path, his expression carefully neutral. "Mrs. Blackwood, Mr. Blackwood didn't intend—" Gwendolyn, barely concealing her amusement, added with false sweetness, "Mrs. Blackwood, won't you stay for some late-night refreshments before leaving?"

Adrian's expression darkened, his control fraying. "Let her go!" he snapped.