Chapter 179

The room fell into a hushed silence as Bianca's question hung in the air. Every gaze turned toward Vivian, anticipation thickening the atmosphere.

Vivian's lips pressed together in a brief moment of hesitation.

Bianca's chest swelled with satisfaction, mistaking Vivian's pause for weakness. Determined not to let her escape, Bianca tightened her grip and pulled Vivian toward the grand piano, her voice dripping with false encouragement. "Vivian, darling, if you've prepared this special gift, you must be confident in it. Take your time—we're all dying to hear what you've got."

Dominic's eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn't anticipated Bianca would push Vivian into performing publicly like this. A pang of guilt struck him as he realized his earlier performance had unintentionally backed Vivian into a corner. Running fingers through his dark hair, he searched for an exit strategy. "I had no idea we'd both prepared musical gifts. Why don't I just present mine on Vivian's behalf?" he offered, trying to shield her from scrutiny.

Vivian remained silent, her expression unreadable as she seemed to consider Dominic's proposal. Bianca's smile turned saccharine. "Have someone else perform your gift? That would be rather... inappropriate, wouldn't it?" Her eyes glittered as she cut off any potential escape route. "Come now, Dominic, be a gentleman. Surely you don't mind if Vivian has her moment to shine?" she teased.

Turning to Vivian with exaggerated sweetness, she pressed, "Isn't that right, Vivian?"

Vivian finally spoke, her voice measured and calm. "Yes, the gift I prepared for Mrs. Blackwood is a piano composition."

Dominic swiftly pulled out the piano bench for Vivian before moving to Adrian's side. He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Aren't you going to intervene?"

Adrian didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his jacket pocket, extracted a cigarette, and lit it with deliberate calm, his dark eyes never leaving Vivian.

For a fleeting moment, Vivian hesitated, her slender fingers hovering above the ivory keys like a dancer preparing for performance.

Bianca barely contained her glee, her grin stretching wide. She could already picture Vivian becoming the laughingstock of Crestwood's elite after tonight. Concealing a smirk, Bianca discreetly pulled out her phone, switching to video mode to immortalize what she was certain would be Vivian's public humiliation.

The opening notes emerged soft and unassuming, a gentle melody flowing effortlessly beneath Vivian's fingers. Bianca's ears found nothing remarkable, and the murmurs in the crowd reflected similar disinterest.

"Technically proficient," someone whispered. "But after Mr. Sinclair's performance, this feels rather... ordinary."

While not the disaster some had hoped for, neither did it captivate the audience. Yet Vivian remained utterly absorbed, her focus absolute. Her posture was regal—the elegant curve of her neck, the poised set of her shoulders creating a silhouette of refined grace. Her fingers moved across the keys with the fluidity of swans gliding across a lake, mesmerizing in their precision.

No one could deny the arresting beauty of the image she presented. Her natural elegance dispelled any notion of humble origins, radiating a sophistication that seemed bred through generations. The effortless grace she embodied spoke of old money and timeless refinement.

Beatrice's expression shifted subtly, and she exchanged a meaningful glance with Leonard. A silent understanding passed between them as the music continued to unfold.