Chapter 68

The maid entered with a silver tray, her steps measured and her lips curled in undisguised disdain. "Mr. Blackwood ordered me to tend to you," she declared, her voice laced with thinly veiled contempt.

Vivian blinked at the servant's brazen disrespect toward the lady of the house. Adrian's loathing for her ran so deep that even newly hired staff felt entitled to treat her with such open disregard. This wasn't care - it was damage control, like assigning someone to babysit an inconvenient problem. While Serena had mastered the art of feigning illness for attention - and Adrian would move heaven and earth for her - he'd casually palmed off his own wife's care to a servant during her fever.

"Leave. I need to shower," Vivian said dismissively, throwing back the silk sheets.

The maid stood rooted to the spot.

"Mr. Blackwood insisted you take medication after breakfast."

Vivian's voice turned glacial. "Adrian asked you to assist me, not command me."

The maid's expression faltered. "Excuse me?" Without missing a beat, Vivian countered, "I remain his wife. Basic courtesy would be appreciated."

When the maid remained silent, Vivian added with finality, "Enough. You're dismissed. I won't ask again."

The maid flushed but didn't dare argue, eventually turning on her heel. Alone at last, Vivian exhaled and headed for the ensuite. After showering and changing into fresh clothes, she grabbed her purse and phone, pausing to check the hallway - empty.

Perfect.

She quickly summoned a ride and slipped out like a fugitive. The crisp morning air revived her, but her brief respite shattered when her phone began vibrating incessantly. Sliding into the waiting cab, she fished out her phone, her stomach dropping at the caller ID. Richard.

Vivian's jaw tightened as unwanted memories surfaced. In the early days of her marriage to Adrian, Richard had hounded her relentlessly, exploiting their blood ties to demand favors - insider stock tips, business connections, high-society invitations for Natasha to land a rich husband. But Vivian had never been one to be manipulated, least of all by Richard. Her refusals were absolute. When it became clear she wouldn't play along, he'd dropped the charade of fatherly affection.

Two years of radio silence. And now this. The timing was obvious - their recent encounter combined with divorce rumors had reignited his interest. The phone vibrated again, about to disconnect. Against her better judgment, she answered, her voice arctic. "What do you want?"

Richard launched into his trademark guilt trip, his words barbed with accusation. "Two years without visiting your own father, and now that you've climbed the social ladder, you've forgotten your family. You truly are heartless—"

As Richard's tirade continued, Vivian subtly held the phone away, her gaze drifting to the cab window.

On the sidewalk, an elderly gentleman approached a young woman exiting a boutique, her arms laden with shopping bags. With tender care, he offered her an ice cream cone and relieved her of the bags, letting her enjoy the treat as they strolled side by side. Their striking resemblance left no doubt about their relationship. Though the daughter appeared to be Vivian's age, her father's eyes still saw the little girl needing protection.

The contrast stung.

Vivian abruptly ended the call, cutting off Richard mid-sentence. She stared at her darkened phone screen, the reflection showing eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The cab turned onto the highway, carrying her away from the gilded cage and toward an uncertain future. Somewhere in the city, Adrian was probably relieved by her absence. And Richard? He'd already moved on to plotting his next scheme.

The city skyline blurred as the cab accelerated. Vivian squared her shoulders. This time, she wouldn't look back.