Chapter 496

Vivian's face twisted in irritation as she quickly pushed Julian away. She straightened her clothes with sharp, angry movements.

"Are you telling me you were the one who made that Midnight Tides earlier?" Her voice was ice.

Julian remained sprawled on the sand, arms propped behind him. He tilted his head up at her, unfazed. "What? Did you think Ethan made it for you?"

Vivian scoffed, turning her gaze toward the dark, churning sea. Her lips pressed into a thin line.

Julian shrugged. "Ethan made it for me once. Took me forever to get the recipe out of him. Said it was your creation." A faint smirk played on his lips. "Interesting drink. Vodka's fire and mint's chill—complete opposites, yet they create something... magical together. Kind of like you and Ethan."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "You're reading too much into it. I mixed it on a whim. Didn't even remember the recipe until you brought it up."

"Still lying to yourself?" Julian arched a brow. "If you really forgot, why did you chase after me like a madwoman?"

"So you were just messing with me?"

Vivian's glare could have burned through steel. "You think it's funny, playing me for a fool? Should've known. Every man in the Blackwood family is twisted. Ethan's an iceberg, Julian's a lunatic, and you—you're just a brat."

The memory of her sprinting after him, shouting like some lovesick idiot, made her cringe.

She wasn’t just angry at Julian. She was furious at herself—for losing control over a man whose profile, for one fleeting second, had reminded her of Ethan.

Julian didn’t argue. He patted the sand beside him. "Four years is a long time. We’ve got catching up to do."

Vivian turned away. "I have nothing to say to you. It’s late. I’m leaving."

She wanted nothing to do with Julian—or any Blackwood.

"What if it’s about Ethan?"

Her steps faltered.

Julian’s voice was low, deliberate. "Don’t you want to know how he is?"

Vivian’s fingers curled into fists. Slowly, she turned back and sat beside him.

"Talk."

The sea breeze sharpened her senses. She needed answers. She’d never believed Ethan was dead.

Julian stared at the restless waves, his expression unreadable. "I don’t know if he’s alive." He glanced at her. "If I said that, would you hit me?"

Vivian’s jaw clenched. "Yes."

"Hold off." He exhaled. "I’ll tell you what I know. Maybe it’ll help."

He began. "Blackwood Group’s grown fast these past four years. Too fast. There’s rot underneath—power struggles, backstabbing. If something happened to Ethan, it wasn’t an accident. It was planned. Just like Sebastian’s death."

Vivian went still. "You’re saying—both of them were murdered?"

Julian nodded. "Same people. And we need your help."