Chapter 384

The voice Vivian hadn't heard in four years still carried that same icy detachment.

She listened calmly, her expression unreadable. Not a single ripple of emotion disturbed her composure.

"U-um, Mr. Blackwood? Sorry to disturb you—"

Walter hadn't expected Nathaniel to answer so quickly. Nervousness made his words stumble. "My niece Vivian just returned to Newport City today. After disappearing for years, it's quite a shock to see her again. Since you've been so kind to our family these past years, I wanted to invite you to dinner with us. You—"

"No."

Nathaniel's refusal was immediate. Cold. Final.

The line went dead before Walter could respond.

"Mr. Blackwood? Mr. Blackwood?"

Silence.

He tried calling again. The number had been blocked.

"Viv, don't take it personally. He's a busy man—CEO of Blackwood Group. I'll try again later with Emily's phone."

Walter glanced at Vivian, guilt twisting his features. He'd expected better from Nathaniel, who'd always treated the Reynolds family with consideration. This sudden hostility? It could only mean one thing—he was avoiding Vivian. She must be devastated!

"It's fine."

Vivian shrugged, smiling. "If he comes, we'll set a place. If not, more food for me. No big deal."

She wasn't pretending. Nathaniel was just a stranger from her past now. He held no power over her emotions.

Emily frowned, disappointment flashing across her face. "Tsk. I misjudged him. Can't even face you over a meal when you're perfectly fine with it. Pathetic."

Walter shook his head. "You don't understand. If he'd truly moved on, he wouldn't care. This reaction? Classic unresolved feelings. I'll reach out again—"

Vivian laughed. "You're overcomplicating it. A high-profile CEO refusing to dine with commoners is normal. And given our history? Avoiding me prevents awkwardness with his current girlfriend."

"Exactly!" Emily nodded. "He's been dating that Delacroix woman for years now. Paparazzi catch them vacationing together all the time. Bet he forgot you ages ago."

"No, no." Walter disagreed. "As a man, I know men. If he'd truly moved on, he wouldn't have supported our family all these years. Or visited your parents' graves annually. Those aren't the actions of someone who's over you."

"Then why refuse dinner? Why get a new girlfriend? Sounds like a coward to me."

Emily's eyes sparkled with mischief. She grabbed Walter's arm. "Dad, wanna bet? I say Nathaniel's completely over Viv—"

"No more gambling!"

"If you win, I'll do dishes for a year!"

"...Fine. I bet he hasn't moved on. You'll see—"

Their argument escalated into a full-blown wager.

Vivian sighed, retreating from the battlefield to explore the house.

The Reynolds home wasn't lavish, but warmth radiated from every corner. A sense of peace settled over her here.

In the study, a family portrait sat atop the piano. Walter's family. Her own parents. Her late grandparents. Her teenage self, frozen in time beside them.

Vivian stared at the photo, eyes burning. That girl in the picture—carefree, surrounded by love—had no idea how precious those moments were.

How fleeting.