Chapter 3

Vivian's POV

The three children on the screen froze.

They were only four years old. They didn't understand what "another man" meant, but they understood "won't have a mother anymore."

The oldest pursed his lips. The building blocks in his hands fell to the floor. He burst into loud tears.

Then the second, then the third.

Their heartrending cries came through the speaker like a saw cutting through my nerves.

I instinctively lunged forward to grab the tablet.

But Damien was faster.

His slender fingers tapped lightly and ended the video call.

The crying stopped abruptly.

Damien crossed his legs and looked leisurely at my hand frozen in midair.

"Does it hurt now?"

He lit a cigarette. The blue-white smoke blurred his cold eyes.

"Vivian, you can't be too greedy. You want so-called true love and you want the Lancaster children too? Where does that exist?"

I bit my lip hard until I tasted the metallic tang of blood.

I knew he was forcing me.

He was waiting for me to kneel and beg him like before, or cry and say I wouldn't leave.

But this time, Adrian Grant's eyes-bloodshot yet still determined-floated into my mind.

He said, "Vivian, don't look back."

I took a deep breath, withdrew my hand, and even managed an ugly smile.

"You're right, Damien. If I don't want them, then I'll cut ties completely."

With that, I turned and headed upstairs.

Behind me came the sound of a glass being violently smashed.

But I didn't stop.

News traveled fast.

Early the next morning, Damien's mother arrived.

The elegant lady who usually only appeared at charity galas was now sitting on my bed, earnestly holding my hand.

"Vivian, you're being foolish."

She sighed, her well-maintained face full of disapproval.

"The Lancaster family raised you. Without the Lancaster family's money, you would have starved to death in the orphanage long ago.

"Damien is playful, yes, but which of those women around him can surpass you? The three grandsons are the heirs of the Lancaster family. You're their biological mother. As long as you're obedient, who else could be Mrs. Lancaster besides you?"

I'd heard these words at the Lancaster house for twelve years.

Like invisible threads, they'd sewn me into a puppet of the Lancaster family.

"I'm done waiting."

I pulled out a red piece of cardstock from under my pillow.

It was a hand-drawn wedding invitation from Adrian Grant. The paper was ordinary, but the letters were cut neatly and carefully.

"Next month on the fifth, I hope you can attend my wedding."

Mrs. Lancaster's expression darkened instantly. The hand holding mine withdrew sharply.

"You're humiliating the Lancaster family!"

"Who gave you the right to think the Lancaster family would attend such a shabby wedding?"

A mocking voice came from the doorway.

Damien leaned against the doorframe, still reeking of last night's alcohol.

He strode in and snatched the invitation from my hand.

With just one glance, the disgust in his eyes deepened.

"This handwriting is really ugly."

"Adrian wrote every word himself."

I tried to grab it back, but he pressed down on my shoulder with one hand, rendering me immobile.

Damien sneered.

The red cardstock tore in half in his hands.

"If you're going to leave, don't bring this trash into the Lancaster house."

Damien pointed at the door, his eyes cold.

"Except for the bones in your body, you're not allowed to take anything that belongs to the Lancaster family."