Chapter 199

Had he been completely wrong? Did Adrian truly not care about Vivian at all?

Inside the luxury car, Adrian rummaged through several designer shopping bags before pulling out one containing delicate lingerie. He handed it to Serena with an absentminded gesture.

"Thank you, darling," Serena purred, cradling the package like a prized possession. "This is hand-stitched French lace - it mustn't be folded."

A triumphant gleam flashed in her eyes as she hugged the bag tighter. She'd carefully orchestrated Dominic's misunderstanding, knowing his vivid imagination would work in her favor.

Adrian barely registered her presence, his mind consumed by Dominic's revelation. After a tense silence, he grabbed his phone and dialed Vivian's number.

When she answered, his voice was glacial. "What were you doing alone with Maxwell?"

Vivian's retort came sharp as shattered crystal. "Mr. Blackwood, your hypocrisy is astounding! You abandoned me for a romantic evening with Serena, yet expect me to wait like some pathetic stray? I'll see whomever I please. Our divorce papers are practically signed - my company is none of your concern."

Her words carried the sting of betrayal, yet her tone remained eerily composed, as if discussing a stranger's affairs.

Before Adrian could respond, Serena interrupted, holding up a small velvet pouch. "Adrian, do you enjoy bird's nest soup?"

Adrian glanced distractedly. "Not particularly. My grandmother insists on preparing it."

"With rock sugar and goji berries!" Serena exclaimed, peering into the pouch with theatrical delight. "My favorite! Though my chef never gets the consistency right. May I?"

She batted her eyelashes expectantly.

Adrian gave a curt nod. "Take it."

The intimate exchange between them pierced Vivian's heart like shards of glass. Without another word, she ended the call.

Standing beneath the flickering streetlights, Vivian pulled her coat tighter against the howling wind. The cold penetrated deeper than the winter chill - it was the realization that Adrian's warmth had never been meant for her. As the wind whipped strands of hair across her face, the city lights blurred into watery streaks.

Meanwhile, in the VIP lounge of Mirage Lounge, decadence oozed from every velvet-draped corner. Men in tailored suits and women in barely-there dresses draped themselves across plush banquettes, their laughter drowning in the clink of crystal glasses.

Maxwell Sterling lounged like a predator in his corner throne, boots propped arrogantly on the ebony coffee table. Two cocktail waitresses in sequined minidresses attended to his every whim - one refilling his whiskey while the other held a lighter to his cigar.

His lips curled into a cruel smirk as he trailed fingers down one girl's cheek before abruptly upending his drink down her décolletage.

The girl gasped, shock flashing across her face for only a heartbeat before she forced a sultry pout. "If you wanted me wet, Mr. Sterling, the penthouse pool would be more...thorough."

Maxwell chuckled darkly, pinching her chin. "Cheeky. I like that." He pulled out his phone and transferred an obscene tip, taking out his frustration from the earlier confrontation with Vivian on these paid companions.