Chapter 60

The tension between them had finally begun to ease when Adrian felt an unexpected impulse to bridge the distance. "Tonight, I want to—"

His words were abruptly cut off by the shrill ringing of his phone—an unusual breach of etiquette for someone who always kept his devices silent during meals. The sudden interruption made everyone at the table turn toward him.

Vivian's eyes flickered to the glowing screen where the name "Serena" flashed prominently.

Adrian answered with his usual composure, but as the call progressed, his expression hardened into unreadable stone. Whatever news came through the line carried palpable weight. "Understood," was all he said before ending the call.

Standing abruptly, he addressed the table. "I need to go to the office immediately."

Margaret's sharp gaze darted between him and Vivian. "Must it be now? Can't this wait until after dinner? You're just going to leave Vivian here alone?"

His decision was already made. Finishing his meal in three efficient bites, Adrian rose. "Ethan will take you home," he told Vivian in a tone that brooked no argument.

"Drive safely," Vivian replied softly, her smile serene but her eyes turning glacial. Her grip on the fork tightened almost imperceptibly—just enough for her knuckles to whiten. The mere appearance of Serena's name had shattered whatever fragile peace they'd begun to build.

The moment Adrian's car disappeared down the driveway, Bianca broke the silence. "That was Serena, wasn't it?" Her voice dripped with faux concern.

Vivian's retort was razor-sharp. "Since when did you become a gossip columnist?"

Bianca's lips curled into a condescending smirk. "Just looking out for you, cousin. Lose your husband's attention, and you'll regret it."

Margaret, who had been quietly observing, set down her utensils with deliberate precision. "Bianca isn't wrong," she said, her piercing gaze locking onto Vivian. "A wife's priority should be her husband and family. Chasing fame at your age is foolish. A child would secure your position."

Her eyes dropped meaningfully to Vivian's abdomen. "Two years of marriage with no pregnancy suggests you might need medical intervention."

Adrian hadn't touched her since their wedding night—if she conceived now, it would be nothing short of divine intervention.

Vivian's response was measured. "Conception requires participation from both parties."

Margaret's eyes flashed with disbelief. The meek girl who used to absorb every barbed comment had just thrown one back. The shift was as startling as a slap.

Turning to Beatrice, Margaret's voice trembled with indignation. "Are you hearing this? I barely said anything, and she's talking back!"

Beatrice patted Margaret's hand with the gentle finality of a sunset. "Times change, dear. Remember, you didn't have Adrian until five years into your marriage."

"That was different," Margaret muttered, but the fight had left her voice.