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Chapter_513
Gillian’s words hung unfinished as Percival suddenly stood up and gestured towards someone in the
distance. “Vivienne, over here!”
Gillian blinked in surprise. Vivienne?
What on earth was Vivienne doing here?
Should she not be back at the Boyd estate, caring for Wendy, who was bedridden?
Gillian turned to see Vivienne stride in, decked out in a leather biker jacket, her hair cascading down
her back, helmet in hand.
The very epitome of cool and spicy!
Vivienne walked over, placed her helmet on the table, and pecked Percival on the lips in front of Gillian
without a second thought.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“Not at all. You’re just in time.” Percival took her hand and pulled her close, seating her at the table and
sliding a freshly cut steak in front of her. “Just cut it for you, eat up.”
“Thanks, Mr. Wolf.” Vivienne grinned and dug into the steak with gusto.
Percival ruffled her hair affectionately, then turned to Gillian. “So, what were you saying?”
Gillian clenched the tablecloth beneath the table, her knuckles turning white with tension, the veins in
her hands standing out starkly. Yet, for the sake of her image, she maintained a strained smile.
“I was suggesting maybe the wedding bash should be in Sea City before heading back to Rivenwood
for the ceremony.”
Gillian did not believe for a second that Vivienne could be oblivious to the implications of her words.
After all, she was the one the Boyd family had accepted as their future granddaughter-in-law!
Percival smirked. “Vivienne and I only want a ceremony in Rivenwood. Sea City? We don’t really have
relatives there.”
Gillian nearly bit through her lip. “Mr. Ellington, you must be misunderstanding something. Our parents
have arranged this meeting of ours, and that’s why we’re here.”
Percival’s smile turned cold. “The reason we’re here isn’t some family setup. I wanted to make it clear:
Vivienne is my fiancée. I did not introduce her properly last time, but you get the picture this time,
right?”
Tears rimmed Gillian’s eyes. She could not believe Percival could be so heartless.
What was so special about Vivienne?
Was she not just some artisan perfumer, a designer, and a painter? In other words, someone who
worked for their kind of aristocracy, a country bumpkin who thought a bit of skill could turn her into a
swan.
She was nothing but a clown!
What bewitchment had Percival under to choose Vivienne over her?
She was the Ashford heiress, a top-notch family in Sea City. Even the well-rooted Boyds had to curry
favor.
How could a country bumpkin compare?
Whether by birth or beauty, Gillian was certain she did not lose to Vivienne!
Was Percival blind?
After finishing her meal, Vivienne wiped her mouth with a napkin and noticed Gillian’s untouched steak.
“Ms. Ashford, your steak will lose its flavor if it gets cold.”
noveldrama
“Don’t concern yourself, Ms. Hawthorn!” A single tear fell from Gillian’s eye as she glared at Vivienne,
fantasizing about tearing her to shreds.
Shouldering her indifference, Vivienne shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
Percival stood, taking Vivienne’s helmet and wrapping an arm around her slender waist, not looking
back as they left.
With her back to Gillian, Vivienne called over her shoulder, “Ms. Ashford, you might want to head home
early. Be careful, wouldn’t want any mishaps!”
Gillian’s grip tightened, her nails nearly drawing blood.
This was not over. Vivienne would pay.
Her frustration manifested physically as she yanked the tablecloth, toppling the candle centerpiece.
Wine glasses shattered, spilling over Gillian, igniting as the flame met the spilled wine.
“Ah! Help!”
Her lightweight, flammable dress caught fire instantly, but quick-thinking waitstaff doused the flames
with an extinguisher, sparing her skin.
However, the dress was ruined, revealing far more than intended, including her lacy black lingerie.
Who would have thought such an innocent-looking girl would wear such suggestive lingerie?
In embarrassment, Gillian clutched her clutch bag close, barely covering herself until a waiter kindly
offered his jacket.
She fled without a word of thanks.
Once home, Gillian locked herself in her room and sobbed.
She had never been so humiliated.
Her father, Patrick Ashford, concerned by her cries, knocked gently on her door. “Gillian, what’s
wrong?”
Through her tears, Gillian sobbed into her father’s chest. “Dad, Vivienne’s gone too far. Please, make
her go away from Mr. Ellington!”
Patrick frowned at the mention of Vivienne.
Could it be that Vivienne?
Gillian, still crying, implored, “Dad, are you even listening to me? I’ve been humiliated, and you don’t
seem to care!”
Patrick snapped back to the present. “Gillian, this Vivienne… Who is she, exactly?”
Gillian was in full pout mode.
She had always been the pampered princess of the household, her every whim indulged by her father.
When the Ashfords were just a modest family in Havenwood, Patrick had hustled tirelessly for the
family business, taking any job to pay the bills.
So much so that he had broken his health, and then, in a tragic twist, a car accident left him unable to
father any more children.
Thanks to his boss, Gillian came into this world, elevating the Ashford family.
Tragically, not long after Gillian’s birth, Mrs. Ashford passed away from a severe illness.
Patrick raised Gillian single-handedly, playing both mother and father and spoiled her rotten.
Eventually, the Ashfords moved to Sea City, riding the tech left by his boss and quickly becoming one
of the city’s elite families. New chаpter avąilable on
Nowadays, even the Boyd family was eager to cozy up to them.
And so, Gillian grew even more entitled, getting whatever she fancied, with Patrick going to great
lengths to keep her happy.
Thus, When the Boyds came knocking for a business partnership, Patrick’s sole condition was for
Gillian to wed Percival.
Hearing his daughter’s words, Patrick felt reassured.
In his impression, Vivienne, although motherless, still had a father—Dorian Hawthorne of the
Hawthorne family.
Over the years, Patrick had not kept up with the happenings in Havenwood and was unaware of the
calamity that had befallen the Hawthorns.
Nor did he realize that Dorian was anything but Vivienne’s father.
