Chapter 177

Vivian's eyes widened, and the woman beside her froze for a heartbeat.

Adrian turned toward the woman, his lips curving into a faint, almost playful smile. "Besides," he continued, "my wife is precious. And with a full staff at Seabreeze Villa, there's hardly much for her to do." The message was crystal clear now. Even the most oblivious guest could see it. Adrian was publicly standing by Vivian's side.

With her family's business tied to the Blackwood Group, the woman wasn't about to risk offense.

"Mr. Blackwood," she said, forcing a laugh, "you're not only successful but also very protective of your wife." A murmur rippled through the crowd. Someone muttered, "She may not have the pedigree, but she's certainly lucky."

Adrian's response was immediate. "You're right. I am lucky to have such a remarkable wife."

Vivian's chest tightened. His words sounded perfect, yet they twisted inside her like a knife. He wasn't shielding her; he was placing her on a pedestal, making her an even clearer target for their disdain.

Her fears proved justified as Margaret's expression darkened. "Vivian," she snapped, her voice dripping with condescension. "If you're going to act, focus on acting. Leave those unsavory habits from Hollywood behind. Show some respect to your elders. The Blackwood family has a reputation to uphold."

Before Vivian could respond, Adrian stepped forward, his voice icy and unwavering. "Mother, that's enough."

Margaret's eyes narrowed, but she waved him off dismissively. "Fine. Take your wife to dinner if you're so concerned."

Adrian reached for Vivian's hand, but she recoiled as if his touch burned. Her eyes, glinting with cold fury, locked onto his.

Without a word, she turned sharply and walked away, her steps quick and purposeful.

Vivian's heart raced, her chest tight with frustration. She was done being used as a pawn, only to be insulted for her trouble.

Adrian's hand hovered in the air, fingers curling slightly before he slowly let it fall. His gaze followed her retreat, unreadable, but his jaw tightened visibly.

Vivian approached a servant. "Move the piano to the garden terrace," she said in a soft but firm voice.

Bianca, who had been quietly observing from the shadows, couldn't help but smirk. A piano? So Vivian's "performance" would be a piano piece, then.

Bianca's lips curled into a smug smile. Finally, a chance to watch Vivian humiliate herself. Fake was fake, after all. When the clock struck midnight, Cinderella would return to her rags.

The dishes served at Beatrice's birthday celebration were nothing short of spectacular. Despite this, each guest was lost in their own thoughts, and regrettably, the culinary masterpieces went largely unnoticed.

As the evening progressed, the servers brought in new platters, and a particular dish of golden fish immediately caught Vivian's attention. Margaret, taking on the role of hostess, explained with a hint of pride, "This was caught just after twilight, directly from the ocean."

Those gathered, well-versed in gourmet cuisine, recognized instantly the rarity before them. The wild yellow croaker, a delicacy that commanded thousands per pound, shimmered on the platter. Its value increased due to its unique golden hue, achieved by shielding it from light. Unlike its daytime-caught counterparts, which often needed artificial enhancement in freezers to attain a similar golden luster, this fish was naturally exquisite.