Chapter 157

Margaret's wild speculation sent Vivian spiraling into deep contemplation.

Her brows knitted together as she studied the letter repeatedly. A heavy silence stretched between them.

Margaret suddenly realized she'd spoken out of turn. She clapped a hand over her mouth. "Forget what I just said! Why would the Blackwoods do such a thing? If they were really behind the Lockhart family's downfall, why would they let you marry Mr. Blackwood?"

"You're right. But my parents only gave me this letter after the divorce and warned me to stay away from the Blackwoods. There's something they're not telling me—something connected to that family."

Vivian narrowed her eyes, piecing together the fragments of truth. "The Blackwoods might not be directly responsible, but they know more than they're letting on. Whoever destroyed my family must be powerful. Otherwise, my grandfather and parents wouldn't have begged me not to seek revenge—or forced me to seek protection from the Blackwoods!"

The Lockharts were descendants of war heroes. They never bowed to anyone.

If the enemy was strong enough to drive her parents to suicide and make her grandfather entrust her to the Blackwoods, they had to be more formidable than the Lockharts.

But their power couldn't surpass the Blackwoods. Otherwise, Vivian wouldn't have survived this long.

In Newport City, only a handful of families rivaled the Blackwoods. Now that she had a lead, narrowing down the suspects wouldn't be difficult.

"What now, Miss Vivian? Are you going after them?"

"Absolutely." Her voice turned icy, her gaze sharp as steel. "I won't let my parents' killers walk free."

As Mrs. Blackwood, she had too much to lose. Back then, she obeyed her grandfather's dying wish—living as a docile wife, oblivious to the world, abandoning vengeance.

But everything had changed. She was divorced. She had no ties to the Blackwoods anymore.

This time, she wouldn't let her family's tragedy go unanswered.

From now on, her heart would be locked away. Only revenge mattered.

The next morning, birdsong pulled Vivian from sleep.

"Good morning, my little ones."

She stretched, gently rubbing her still-flat stomach. Too early for a bump or kicks, yet she swore the baby responded to her touch.

For the first time in four years, she'd slept peacefully.

"Morning, Miss Vivian! Breakfast is ready."

Evelyn entered, carrying a tray with Vivian's favorite—fresh milk and homemade bread, just like old times. The sunlight framing Evelyn made Vivian's chest ache. For a moment, she was back in Lockhart Manor, when her family was still whole.

"Beautiful day today. Any plans?" Evelyn handed her the milk.

Vivian took a long sip, then smiled at the sunflowers from Nathan on her nightstand. "Let's revive the garden. Plant sunflowers again, like before."

"Perfect! I'll help." Evelyn beamed. "The garden was breathtaking when they bloomed. It's time to bring life back to this house."

After breakfast, they tackled the overgrown yard. Vivian, mindful of her pregnancy, stuck to light tasks while Evelyn did the heavy lifting.

Then Evelyn's shovel hit something hard. She dropped it with a gasp.

"Miss Vivian—come look at this!"