Chapter 47

Vivian had never felt such profound disillusionment with Adrian.

"It's alright," she murmured, her throat tight as she tried to soothe Lydia. "We didn't win this time. The next opportunity will come."

Lydia kept pacing, her designer heels clicking angrily against the marble floor. "This is unbearable! With anyone else, I could pull some strings using my family connections. But we're dealing with Mr. Blackwood! The most powerful CEO in the nation. Serena has no idea how lucky she is to have his backing. I'd give anything to have him supporting you instead!"

Vivian turned slowly, emotions warring within her. The idea was absurd. Serena was the one who held Adrian's heart. He would never stand by Vivian's side with the same fierce loyalty he showed Serena. But Vivian shook her head sharply. She wasn't some fragile damsel needing rescue.

"Isn't it all about power plays anyway?" Vivian gave a wry smile, meeting Lydia's gaze head-on. "I don't need to cling to anyone's coattails. I'll build my own influence, carve my own path."

Lydia froze mid-step, startled by the sudden fire in Vivian's eyes. That unexpected blaze of determination left her momentarily speechless.

Ever practical, Lydia laid out the harsh truth. "Dreams are beautiful, but let's be realistic - the industry doesn't play fair. With Serena's unexplained vendetta against you, if you land a role she wants, she'll destroy it. That kind of sabotage could ruin your reputation permanently."

"That won't happen," Vivian stated with unshakable conviction. "Don't worry about roles. Adrian may be powerful, but he doesn't control everything. Not everyone bows to him. Just getting one significant role will put me on the map, ensure I'm not forgotten. What I need from you is help choosing the right scripts."

Vivian's steel resolve ignited Lydia's fighting spirit. "Alright then, let's make this happen!"

The next morning, outside the florist shop, a sleek Rolls Royce idled at the curb. Inside, Adrian lounged in the backseat, his sharp features half-hidden in shadow. His eyes snapped open when he spotted the vibrant display of fuchsia Freud roses near the entrance. "Get me ninety-nine of those," he commanded.

Ethan hesitated under Adrian's piercing stare before venturing, "Mrs. Blackwood usually prefers the blush pink roses." Adrian, determined to make amends, couldn't risk any missteps - not even with flowers.

Perplexed, Adrian's brows drew together. "Aren't they all just roses? What difference does the color make?"

Floral arrangements were far outside his expertise. He vaguely recalled Serena mentioning her preference for fuchsia Freud roses during a walk past a florist, where the shopkeeper had emphasized their exorbitant price. To Adrian, flowers' worth was measured solely by their cost. Rubbing his temples, he refused to get bogged down in such trivialities.

With an impatient wave, he ordered, "Just get ninety-nine of whatever you think is appropriate."

"Understood," Ethan replied, visibly relieved as he exited the car. Meanwhile, Adrian remained seated, absently checking the time on his exclusive luxury watch. The hour hand pointed precisely to ten on the meteorite-encrusted moon dial - a rare masterpiece from a world-renowned brand.