Chapter 508

A sudden tension rippled through the dining room. While some executives maintained their composure, most family members couldn't hide their shock. Margaret, caught unprepared, even let her silverware clatter onto her plate.

Vivian's fingers absently traced circles over her abdomen. Ever since seeing those two pink lines, she'd become hyperaware of every flutter inside her. Logically, she knew it was too early - her frantic Google searches confirmed fetal heartbeats didn't develop until six weeks. Yet some primal connection defied medical textbooks.

"I—" she began.

Beatrice smoothly intervened. "Darling, you must try this free-range chicken. Our housekeeper's nephew raises them organically in the countryside."

The executives exchanged glances, assuming Vivian was too inexperienced for motherhood. "Mrs. Blackwood—"

"You're still practically newlyweds," one ventured. "There's no need to rush these things."

Noticing Margaret's distant expression, Beatrice patted her hand. "Exactly. These matters unfold naturally."

Vivian swallowed her announcement. With her morning sickness subsiding and filming schedules overwhelming, she'd postponed her first prenatal appointment anyway. No official confirmation meant no obligation to share yet. She sipped the aromatic broth and remained silent.

Adrian's voice cut through the murmurs. "We're having a wedding." His tone brooked no argument - this wasn't a discussion but a decree.

Margaret snapped to attention. "After two years of marriage? What's the point now?"

Beatrice beamed. "I've been saying this since your courthouse ceremony! Every bride deserves her moment."

Though displeased, Margaret held her tongue. With Vivian's screenwriting accolades, the Blackwoods had no reason to be ashamed of their daughter-in-law anymore.

Leonard, quiet until now, set down his wineglass. "Have you chosen a location?"

"Not yet," Adrian replied.

Vivian quickly added, "Adrian's team presented several concepts, but we're still finalizing details."

Margaret immediately assumed her matriarchal tone. "Let me review these proposals. A Blackwood wedding reflects our family's standing—it requires proper planning."

"This isn't some corporate merger, Mother," Adrian countered.

Beatrice gently squeezed Margaret's wrist. "Darling, trust the children to handle their own celebration. Times have changed since our day."

The executives wisely remained neutral, though Margaret's cheeks flushed at being contradicted publicly. The clinking of fine china became the only sound in the suddenly tense dining room.