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Chapter_6
Beatrice lounged lazily on the living room couch, her eyes fixed on Dorian and the girls as they gathered their things. Her posture was casual, yet there was an unmistakable tension in the air. As they packed, Dorian occasionally glanced at Beatrice, but he didn’t speak—his silence speaking volumes. With a sigh, he motioned for Cordelia and Vivienne to follow him into the bedroom. They stepped into the room, only to realize that Arabella had followed them.
Arabella surveyed the simple bedroom, her eyes narrowing with discontent. For a brief moment, the flicker of dissatisfaction was visible in her expression. However, she quickly masked her feelings, adjusting her tone to one of feigned concern. “Dad, are you really moving out?” she asked, her voice soft but insistent. “You don’t earn that much every month. How are you going to support us? Where are we even going to live? Why not just listen to grandma’s advice and stay?”
Dorian turned to look at her, his gaze cold and unreadable. He didn’t respond.
Noticing his silence, Arabella’s gaze shifted to Vivienne, her words now aimed at her. “Dad’s sacrificed so much over the years, searching for you, looking after you. Now that you’re back, you’re just going to let him end up on the streets?”
Vivienne’s expression remained unaffected as she met Arabella’s gaze. A small, mocking smile tugged at the corner of her lips, her indifference radiating in the cool atmosphere. “Why don’t you marry Mr. Ellington?” she suggested. “At least then you’d have a secure future. If it were me, I wouldn’t let Dad ruin his relationship with his own family just because of me.”
Arabella’s face tightened, though she maintained a brittle smile. “Too bad you’re the one engaged to Mr. Ellington,” she retorted, her tone dripping with a mix of envy and frustration.
Vivienne’s smile widened, but something flickered in Arabella’s chest—an uneasy pang of anxiety. She quickly tried to regain control, her voice hurried. “If you’re really so set on this, I won’t say another word. But Dad, grandma said if you don’t finish packing within an hour, she’ll have someone throw your things out.”
“I’ve got it,” Dorian replied, his voice steady and unbothered, as if nothing could rattle him anymore. He didn’t spare Arabella another glance.
With that, Arabella turned and left the room, her footsteps echoing as she made her way back to the living room. Once she was gone, Dorian glanced around at the cluttered room, his brow furrowing with concern. “We’ve got so much stuff; there’s no way we’ll finish in an hour. Should I call a mover?”
Cordelia nodded, her face etched with a hint of worry. “Yes, that’d definitely speed things up.”
Vivienne stood quietly, her heart warmed by the sight of them all working together. It wasn’t just her mother and Finnian who protected her—these people were willing to stand by her, too. For the first time in a long while, she felt a flicker of warmth in her chest.
She bit her lip, her mind racing with thoughts. “Let’s just pack the essentials,” she suggested softly. “I have some money saved up. We can buy a fully furnished house later and pick up the rest of the stuff after we’ve moved.”
Cordelia immediately shook her head, concern clouding her features. “No, Vivienne, you just got back. We can’t use your money. Havenwood isn’t as expensive as the larger cities, but house prices are still high. Don’t worry about the house for now. We’ll rent one and figure out the rest later.”
Dorian, too, chimed in, his voice laced with reassurance. “Yes, save your money for yourself, Vivienne. Don’t worry about us. You’ve been through a lot, and we’ll manage.”
Vivienne opened her mouth to argue, but before she could, Dorian cut her off. “What Vivienne said makes sense. We only need to take our clothes and identification. The rest can wait. We’ll rent a furnished house.”
“Alright,” Vivienne said quietly, nodding. She went to her room and quickly gathered her things. It didn’t take long—just a few sets of clothes, her laptop, and phone. As she packed, her eyes glanced toward the room where Dorian and Cordelia were. She hesitated for a moment, composing herself before pulling out her phone and sending a message.
In the living room, Beatrice had been waiting for some sort of admission, perhaps an apology or a gesture of surrender. But when the family emerged, their faces determined, each carrying only a suitcase, her expectation turned to shock. They were leaving—without hesitation, without looking back.
Beatrice’s face flushed with a deep shade of green as fury bubbled up inside her. She sprang to her feet. “Fine, just fine. You think you can survive without me? Let’s see how far you get without my support!”
Dorian, still composed, only gave her a brief, almost disinterested glance. Without a word, he turned and walked out.
Once outside the neighborhood, Dorian paused, glancing at the bustling streets. “Let’s find a hotel for the night,” he said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll start looking for a place in the morning.”
Vivienne nodded in agreement, and they checked into a nearby hotel.
Three hours later, Dorian returned, his shoulders slumped in disappointment. Cordelia immediately rushed over, concern etched into her features. “How’d it go? Did you find something?”
Dorian shook his head, frustration clear in his eyes. “I found a few places we could afford, but when I went to sign the lease, the landlords wouldn’t rent to me. I asked why, and they told me it was because of what Mom said—she’d told people that renting to me would mean going against the family.”
The weight of Beatrice’s influence in the city was palpable, and Dorian’s frustration mounted. “She’s really pushed me into a corner this time.”
Cordelia, taken aback by her mother’s ruthlessness, struggled to find the right words. Vivienne, however, remained calm. She poured Dorian a glass of water and placed it in front of him. “Don’t worry. Someone will rent to us. Things will work out.”
Dorian sighed deeply, his voice tinged with regret. “I’m sorry you all have to go through this.”
After a brief rest, Dorian was about to start searching again when there was a knock on the door. Surprised, he stood up and opened it to find Jacob, the real estate agent.
“Jacob?” Dorian asked, confused. “How did you find us here?”
“Mr. Hawthorn, good evening,” Jacob greeted cheerfully. “I saw the address you left on the form and thought I’d stop by.”
Dorian was puzzled. “I left an address?”
Jacob didn’t seem to notice his confusion. “Well, the reason I’m here is that Tranquil Estates has a beautiful four-bedroom, two-living room house available for rent—only five hundred dollars a month. It’s in a prime location, perfect for your family. What do you think?”
Cordelia and Dorian were left speechless. Tranquil Estates? That was one of the most expensive neighborhoods in town, a place for the wealthy. Even a modest apartment there would cost a fortune.
Cordelia, ever the realist, quickly pulled Dorian aside, whispering urgently, “How could we get so lucky? This has to be a trap, right? Could it be your mom’s doing?”
Jacob, eager to clear up any misunderstanding, quickly interjected. “No, no—it’s nothing like that. The owner is moving abroad and wants someone reliable to look after the property. He saw your family’s profile and was really impressed. That’s why he’s offering this deal.”
Before Jacob could continue, Dorian, his hesitation now gone, spoke up firmly, “We’ll take it. We’ll sign the contract right now.”
