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Chapter_37
Arabella flinched under Vivienne’s icy stare, her cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. The audacity of Vivienne’s words left her speechless for a moment. She had tried so hard to turn the tables, but now, it was clear she was getting tangled in her own web of lies.
Vivienne’s voice continued, cutting through the tense atmosphere like a blade. “You drugged me, and now you’re questioning me about the antidote? You’re the one who put me in this position, and yet you think I owe you a favor?”
Arabella opened her mouth, but no words came out. The intensity of Vivienne’s gaze made her feel small, almost as if she had been reduced to nothing more than a scheming child.
Percival, who had been silently observing the exchange, now spoke with a calm, almost detached tone. “Arabella, it seems you don’t understand the gravity of the situation. The drug you and Beatrice administered was not just a petty attempt to ruin Vivienne’s reputation. It was meant to harm her, to get her out of the way. And now, you’re asking for her help? You’ve made a terrible mistake.”
Beatrice’s expression remained hard, but her eyes flickered nervously. The longer this went on, the more she could feel the noose tightening around her. Percival was right—Arabella and Beatrice’s actions had consequences that couldn’t be easily dismissed. The Hawthorn family’s reputation was on the brink of ruin, and Beatrice was starting to realize that no amount of denial could save them now.
Vivienne’s lips curled into a faint, almost sadistic smile. “You wanted me to marry Percival, didn’t you, Beatrice? You wanted to use me as a pawn in your game. But look where your manipulation has gotten you.” She glanced at the still-locked door to the servant’s room, where Joseph remained. “If you want Joseph to be saved, there’s one simple thing you need to do, Beatrice.”
Beatrice’s eyes narrowed, her patience wearing thin. “And what’s that?” she demanded.
Vivienne’s gaze hardened, her voice steely. “Admit your role in this. Admit that you’re the one who ordered the drugging, that you used your granddaughter to carry out your plan. Only then will I consider helping you, but not before. If you want to preserve what’s left of your family’s dignity, you’ll have to come clean.”
The tension in the room thickened. The guests, who had been whispering amongst themselves, fell silent. Everyone was waiting, wondering how Beatrice would react to Vivienne’s ultimatum. It was clear that the woman had no intention of backing down.
Beatrice’s chest rose and fell with each strained breath. The weight of her pride and the reality of her actions collided in a battle within her. She knew that if she didn’t act now, there would be no turning back. The Ellington family, Percival, and the other influential figures in the room would never let her or her daughter get away with this.
Arabella stood by her side, looking desperate, but Beatrice’s resolve remained unshaken. She glanced over at Dorian, his face a mixture of frustration and regret. “Dorian,” Beatrice began, her voice quivering just slightly, “you’ve always been the one to clean up my messes. Don’t you want to protect the family?”
Dorian, for all his years of experience, was momentarily at a loss for words. His brother Joseph was still trapped in that room, and part of him wanted to see his niece pay for what she had done, but another part of him could never bring himself to turn against his own flesh and blood completely. He had to find a way to balance his family’s legacy with his sense of justice.
“Vivienne,” Dorian said, his voice hesitant, “please help him. You’ve already shown us enough. The rest of the family doesn’t need to know the details.”
Vivienne’s expression softened, but only slightly. She had made her point, and now she would decide whether to show mercy. “You’re right, Dorian,” she said, her tone cool but not unkind. “I will help Joseph, but know this: I do it not out of any familial obligation, but because I won’t let your family’s dirty secrets destroy me any longer.”
With that, Vivienne stepped forward, her movements deliberate. She made her way to the servant’s room, where Joseph and the maid were still locked inside. A tense silence followed her departure.
Beatrice stood frozen, her face pale, as if she couldn’t believe the turn of events. Arabella, too, seemed lost in thought, her eyes shifting between her mother and the door where Vivienne had just disappeared. Both of them were reeling from the realization that their carefully constructed facade was crumbling, piece by piece.
After a few long moments, Beatrice turned to Dorian. “This isn’t over,” she muttered bitterly.
Dorian only nodded, his mind swirling with conflicting thoughts. “No, it’s not,” he murmured in agreement.
Arabella swallowed hard. “What happens now?” she asked, her voice almost pleading.
Beatrice glanced at her, her eyes cold. “We fix this, Arabella. We fix this, or we lose everything.”
