Chapter 41

"Your body isn't for public display."

Ethan's gaze burned into Vivian as he spoke, his voice laced with a possessiveness he didn't even recognize in himself.

"You're my wife," he reminded her sharply. "Act like it. Dressing like this is unacceptable. You're only inviting trouble."

The memory of those men ogling her made his blood boil. He'd wanted to claw their eyes out.

"Wear this." He shrugged off his jacket and draped it roughly over her shoulders.

"Since when did you become my father?" Vivian laughed, but her eyes glittered with icy disdain.

"Newsflash, Mr. Blackwood—we're not in the 1800s. My body, my rules. If I want attention, I'll take it. And it's none of your damn business."

With deliberate slowness, she slid the jacket off and let it dangle from one finger before dropping it to the floor.

"Keep your chivalry to yourself."

Chin lifted, she strode away like a queen dismissing a peasant, her curves swaying hypnotically until she vanished into the crowd.

Ethan stood frozen, jaw clenched. Rage simmered beneath his skin, but deeper still—the bitter realization that he'd lost any right to control her.

The sharp clink of a champagne glass signaled the charity gala's commencement.

Newport City's elite filled the venue. Ethan, Vivian, and Liam occupied the front row. Behind them sat Charlotte, Micah, Cassandra, and their entourage.

"See how she flaunts herself?" Charlotte hissed to Cassandra, nails digging into her clutch. "That Lockhart slut's playing both sides—Ethan on her right, Liam on her left. Disgusting."

Cassandra stifled a giggle. "Careful, someone might hear you."

"So what? It's the truth!" Charlotte's envy twisted her pretty face. "Just wait. Her little parade won't last."

A wicked plan already brewed in her mind.

The host took center stage, beaming.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Newport City's Annual Charity Gala! Tonight's auction proceeds will fund education for underprivileged children."

Applause erupted as the first items were unveiled:

"A Domingo Otero masterpiece, donated by Charles Leavitt—valued at $200,000."

"A Hermès limited edition handbag from Lily Mauve—$300,000."

"An authentic Tibetan Dzi bead from supermodel Jakob Thibault—$500,000."

The crowd's excitement crescendoed. For Newport's elite, this auction was a battlefield—where social status was won through extravagant displays of wealth.

Ethan and Liam, already untouchable in influence, never participated in donations. Their power came from outbidding everyone else.

"And now," the host's voice dropped to a dramatic whisper, "our most extraordinary donation tonight comes from Mr. Micah Larson—a tribute to his beloved, Miss Charlotte Whitmore."

The velvet cover was whisked away.

Gasps filled the room.

"Oh my God!"