Chapter 162

Vivian Lockhart's body tensed as she leaped from the recliner, her stance defensive. "What the hell are you doing here?" Her voice was sharp as shattered glass. "Trespassing is a crime. I could have you arrested!"

Nathaniel Blackwood's ex-wife merely smirked. With deliberate slowness, she pulled out her phone, dialed 9-1-1, and extended it toward Vivian. "Go ahead. Call them. Let’s see how they react when they find out you’ve been assaulting your staff."

"Assault?" Vivian scoffed, tossing her hair over one shoulder. "As the lady of this house, I have every right to discipline my employees. They deserve punishment when they fail me."

Her chin lifted with smug satisfaction as she emphasized her position.

In the corner, the battered servants cowered, their faces streaked with silent tears.

Vivian Lockhart arched a brow. "Lady of the house? Prove it. Show me the deed with your name on it."

Her smirk widened. "No deed means no legal employment contracts. Which means every strike you’ve landed could be considered assault. Any one of them could press charges. Three to five years in prison—minimum."

The color drained from Vivian’s face.

Her fists clenched. "I’m carrying Nathaniel’s child. This villa will be mine. Everything in the Blackwood family will belong to my son. These servants are nothing!"

A cold laugh escaped Vivian’s lips. "Delusional as always, Cassandra."

She stepped closer, eyes glinting with ruthless amusement. "First, without my consent, this villa will never be yours—I still hold half ownership. Second, until you’re legally married, that child will remain a bastard with no guaranteed inheritance."

This villa had been part of her bridal gift from the Blackwoods. She could have claimed full ownership, but she’d foolishly added Nathaniel’s name.

Even after the divorce, she hadn’t relinquished her share.

"Shut your mouth, you pathetic has-been!" Cassandra lunged, nails bared like claws. "You’re nothing but a discarded wife! At least Nathaniel wanted me—he couldn’t stand touching you!"

Vivian caught her wrist mid-swing, grip icy. "I don’t fight you because you’re beneath me. But remember this: cross me, and you’ll never set foot in the Blackwood family. Not you, not that unborn mistake you’re carrying."

She shoved Cassandra back, sending her stumbling.

For the first time, Cassandra hesitated under Vivian’s unflinching glare.

This woman wasn’t the broken shadow she’d expected.

And with Nathaniel’s lingering attachment to her… Cassandra swallowed her rage. "I know you hate me for taking your place. Hit me if you want. But leave Nathaniel alone. You’ve already moved on to the Osbornes, haven’t you? They’re not the Blackwoods, but for someone like you, they’re more than enough."

Vivian barely resisted rolling her eyes. The only thing Cassandra and Nathaniel had in common was their arrogance.

Ignoring her, Vivian turned to Beatrice. "Take me upstairs."

The housekeeper, who’d once tormented her under Eleanor Whitmore’s orders, now looked at her like salvation.

Cassandra could only watch, seething, as they ascended.

Beatrice wrung her hands. "Madam, thank you for stepping in. If you hadn’t arrived—"

"Save it." Vivian’s voice was frost. "I didn’t do it for you."

She hadn’t forgotten their betrayal.

Forgiveness wasn’t in her nature.

The bedroom door swung open—empty.

Vivian’s gaze darkened. "Where are my things?"

Beatrice paled. "I—"

Fear choked her words.