Chapter 166

Vivian strode purposefully through the design center's marble corridors, the click of her heels echoing against the walls. Ethan hurried to keep pace behind her. "Mr. Blackwood will join you after finalizing the contract details," he explained breathlessly. "In the meantime, we should begin your preparations."

She gave a distracted nod, her mind elsewhere. A secret part of her wished Adrian wouldn't appear at all.

The creative director greeted her with practiced charm. "Mrs. Blackwood, this evening's gown was commissioned specifically for you by Mr. Blackwood. He placed the order six weeks ago - it arrived this morning from our Paris atelier." His fingers brushed the fabric reverently. "Vintage silk charmeuse, embellished with South Sea pearls, each one stitched by hand."

As they entered the main showroom, Vivian's breath caught. The dress stood illuminated at the center of the space - a masterpiece of craftsmanship that seemed to glow from within.

Before she could speak, a familiar voice cut through the air. "Magnificent! Why haven't I seen this before? I must try it immediately!" Emerging from the dressing rooms came Serena Whitmore, every inch the polished socialite.

What cruel irony. Vivian's lips curled in amusement. "Is Adrian planning to escort both of us to Beatrice's birthday gala?"

Ethan went sheet-white, beads of sweat forming at his temples. "Mrs. Blackwood, I assure you this is purely coincidental! Mr. Blackwood would never—"

The director interjected smoothly, "Ms. Whitmore is attending the Film Guild Awards tonight. This gown wasn't intended for her."

Adrian was their most valued client, known for extravagant purchases and occasionally bringing entourages that created... complicated situations.

Sensing disaster, the director made a swift decision. "Mrs. Blackwood, please accept our apologies for this oversight." Turning to Serena, he adopted a professional tone. "Ms. Whitmore, this piece has been reserved. However, we've just received a breathtaking crimson mermaid gown from the same designer. Given that half of Hollywood will be wearing white tonight, the red would ensure you stand out."

A stylist hurried forward with the alternative dress, its rich hue and intricate beading dazzling under the lights. Serena barely glanced at it before fixing Vivian with a calculating stare. "Is she the one who claimed my dress?" she purred.

The director's throat went dry. "It's for Ms. Hartley—" He caught Serena's arched brow and hastily swallowed the "Mrs. Blackwood" that threatened to slip out. Survival instincts kicked in - discretion wasn't just polite, it was necessary.

As part of Adrian's inner circle, they'd all heard the whispers. Serena, ever the picture of entitled grace, pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the centerpiece gown. "I want that one," she declared, her voice sharp as broken crystal.

Tilting her head, she locked eyes with Vivian, her gaze a silent challenge: What will you do now?

The director mopped his brow. "This particular gown... was tailored to Ms. Hartley's measurements," he stammered. "The hem would be problematic. With the ceremony hours away, alterations would be impossible. It might... restrict your movement on stage."

Serena merely shrugged, her smile razor-thin. "Then find me taller heels."