Chapter 158

The morning sun streamed through Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse windows as she sipped her vanilla latte, scrolling through her phone with growing amusement. The entertainment news was particularly scandalous today, and she couldn't help but smirk at the headlines.

"Seraphina Delacroix Spotted Leaving Sebastian Hart's Penthouse at 3 AM," read one particularly juicy tabloid article. Evelyn's perfectly manicured finger tapped the screen, enlarging the blurry paparazzi photo. "Well, well... looks like someone's trying to make Hendrian Cross jealous."

Her phone buzzed with an incoming message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant: "Don't forget we have the script reading with Preston Whitmore at 11. Also, Nathan Blackwood just RSVP'd to the charity gala."

Evelyn's pulse quickened at Nathan's name, though she'd never admit it. She typed back: "Tell Donovan Sharpe I want the emerald Versace for the gala. And find out what Seraphina's PR team is saying about last night."

As she set down her phone, Evelyn's mind wandered to the delicious drama unfolding in Hollywood's elite circles. She knew Seraphina from their days at acting school - the woman had claws sharper than her stilettos. This public spectacle with her ex Sebastian while dating rising star Adrian Cross? Pure calculated chaos.

The intercom buzzed. "Ms. Sinclair? Your car is ready," the doorman announced.

"Be right down," Evelyn called back, grabbing her Givenchy handbag. She took one last glance at the tabloid photos, committing every scandalous detail to memory. These industry secrets were more valuable than gold in her world, and Evelyn Sinclair always knew exactly how to wield them.

The elevator doors closed as she mentally catalogued today's gossip. Who knew what other secrets would reveal themselves before sunset? In Hollywood, the drama never slept - and neither did Evelyn's sharp mind.

The revelation struck Julian and Genevieve like a bolt of lightning—there was indeed a high-stakes game being played behind the scenes, one where Vivienne Monroe was nothing more than a pawn in a carefully orchestrated scheme.

The bitter truth left a sour taste in their mouths. The very people who should have protected Vivienne—her own family and her former lover, Gabriel Ramirez—had instead conspired against her.

It was a twisted alliance, though in reality, it was Gabriel, the cunning gambler, pulling the strings. He had manipulated Vivienne’s relatives into serving his own ends, exploiting their greed and incompetence. Their mismanagement of Vivienne’s agency was proof enough that their minds were consumed by nothing but financial gain.

Evelyn Sinclair’s voice trembled with disgust as she echoed their collective horror.

"I can’t believe their cruelty. They think Vivienne has grown defiant, and they fear that marrying her off to someone of high status would only make her more rebellious. To them, Gabriel—always charming, always polite—seemed like the safer choice. He’s played the mediator before, convincing Vivienne to apologize to them, which they took as respect. So now, at this critical moment, they’ve chosen what they see as the lesser evil—forcing her into marriage with Gabriel to regain control."

Julian clenched his fists. "I won’t even comment on Bartholomeo’s actions, but her own mother? Unbelievable."

Genevieve’s expression mirrored his outrage. The situation reminded them painfully of another family they had encountered—one just as warped in their priorities. The parallels to Celeste’s parents, with their blatant favoritism, were sickening.

But this was worse.

A mother willing to sacrifice her own daughter for the sake of her maiden family? It was unforgivable.

"If Vivienne hadn’t been financially independent, they might have sold her off to pay for her cousin’s wedding," Genevieve muttered darkly.

Julian scoffed, about to dismiss the idea as too extreme—surely no mother would go that far.

But reality proved him wrong.

"Damn it, they actually did something like that!" Evelyn’s voice was sharp with fury. "Back then, Vivienne almost missed her chance to go to university because they thought the tuition was too expensive. The inheritance her father left her? Her mother wanted to use it to send her cousin abroad instead. They pressured Vivienne into settling for a lesser school, telling her it was for her own good—that if her cousin succeeded, he’d support her later. But was that really for her benefit?"

And it didn’t stop there.

They had even arranged for Vivienne to be matched with a wealthy boy from the same university, expecting her to essentially mother him while he studied. Worse, they suggested the dowry be paid in advance—to fund her cousin’s education. Their justification? That her beauty might make her a target, so having a "protector" at school would keep her safe.

It was a masterclass in manipulation—twisting her circumstances to serve their own greed.

Julian exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. "They didn’t just betray her. They tried to erase her future."

Genevieve’s eyes burned with quiet fury. "And now they’re doing it again."

The question hung heavy in the air—how far would they go this time?

And more importantly—how far would Vivienne let them?

Julian and Genevieve stood frozen, completely blindsided by this unexpected turn of events.

Thankfully, they had only dared to manipulate her emotions, disguising their schemes under the noble pretense of "we only want what's best for you." They had never dared to apply direct pressure on Vivienne. So, she had quietly made her own arrangements, secretly enrolling in university and rendering all their carefully laid plans useless.

Only then did Julian and Genevieve manage to catch their breath—but their relief was short-lived, quickly replaced by frustration. Despite all their emotional manipulation, Vivienne hadn’t cut ties with these so-called relatives. She even allowed them to continue influencing her life. Such twisted familial affection was enough to make one’s blood boil.

In the end, severing family bonds was never easy. No one was Vivienne, and no one could truly understand her emotional needs. Perhaps she believed that once she became strong enough, these people would finally step up and act like the family they were supposed to be.

The only consolation was that Vivienne wasn’t completely blinded by familial loyalty—there was still hope she could free herself from their toxic influence.

Even under such intense persuasion, she remained unshaken in her decision. She was determined to take control of her own life.

Seeing that Bartholomeo and Adriana had failed in their prolonged attempts to sway her, Gabriel regained his composure.

With deep affection, he addressed Vivienne, "Vivi, I know you're still upset with me. That’s okay—punish me however you want. Make me promise anything. Just give me a chance. Marry me. We can get the license today. From then on, you can watch me change. Please?"

He then shot his friend a meaningful glance, prompting him to rally the surrounding crowd into chanting, "Say yes! Say yes!"

The atmosphere quickly grew electric, the cheers swelling as people got swept up in the moment. The background music swelled, and the live-streamer projected the feed onto a large screen, showing a flood of comments urging Vivienne to accept.

Adriana and Bartholomeo physically guided Vivienne forward, pushing the tension to its peak. Feeling the crushing weight of expectation, she glanced around—only to realize she was utterly alone.

Evelyn and the others watched in dismay, speechless as they witnessed a capable young woman being metaphorically dragged toward disaster by a mob of people.

Gabriel, well aware of Vivienne’s sensitivity and vulnerability, smirked and said, "Look—your mother, your uncle, my mother, and all our friends… they all believe we belong together."

He gestured pointedly toward Claire, who stood stiffly in the corner, her hair pulled back tightly, accentuating her stern expression. When her son singled her out, she frowned slightly but remained silent.

"I was really hoping to see a real mother-and-daughter-in-law duo on-screen," Gabriel added cheerfully.

Vivienne’s expression flickered as she weighed the consequences. Refusing Gabriel now could damage the fragile rapport she had built with Claire—and worse, there was no telling what recordings might surface later.

Should I just give in to avoid conflict?

The pressure was suffocating.

But deep down, she knew—this wasn’t love.

This was a trap.

Noticing the subtle shift in her hesitation, Gabriel pounced on the moment. "This is being streamed live to millions," he pressed, his voice dripping with false sincerity. "Would you really tarnish such a perfect moment with rejection? Think of how heartbroken our fans would be."

"Vivienne, I love you! Be my wife," he proclaimed dramatically, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Vivienne's face paled. For a fleeting second, she considered playing along—smiling, nodding, and letting the moment pass without a scene. She could always back out later in private. But the rational part of her screamed that silence now would only make things worse.

It was absurd. She felt cornered, yet an inexplicable guilt gnawed at her, as if she were the one being unreasonable.

Before she could gather her thoughts, Gabriel made another attempt to slide the ring onto her finger. This time, Vivienne’s expression hardened. Acting purely on instinct, she yanked her hand back with such force that the ring clattered to the floor.

Gabriel’s face twisted—first in shock, then in barely contained fury. His fingers clamped around her wrist like a vice, his grip unyielding.

Vivienne didn’t struggle. Instead, she lifted her chin and declared, loud and clear, "I said no."

The upbeat music that had been filling the venue cut off abruptly. In the sudden silence, her voice rang out, sharp and unmissable, echoing through both the ballroom and the live stream.

"Vivienne, stop this nonsense!" Gabriel hissed through clenched teeth, his composure cracking.

Before the murmurs of the crowd could swell into outrage, Claire stepped forward, her face a mask of concern. She reached for her son, trying to pull him away.

Then, from the back of the room, a cool, amused voice cut through the tension.

"Interesting. Since when did our laws allow men to force women into marriage on live television?" The speaker—a woman in a sleek black dress—tilted her head, her gaze razor-sharp. "Or is it just that you don’t care what she wants? I’ve heard of this happening in backwater villages, but never in high society. How… quaint."

The room froze.

Gabriel’s grip on Vivienne’s wrist tightened painfully.

And the live chat exploded.