Chapter 22

“Look at you, you adorably stubborn girl,” Sinclair remarked, his tone laced with mock disdain, though the warmth in his gaze betrayed him. With a teasing grin, he tousled Vivienne’s hair.

“I’m not stubborn,” Vivienne retorted, swatting his hand away as she led him toward the sofa.

Warren’s eyes narrowed as they flicked between Vivienne and the man beside her. The tension in the air was palpable before he broke the silence with a sharp question. “What’s your relationship with him?”

At the sound of his voice, Vivienne’s lighthearted smile froze, her expression hardening as she turned to him. “Why are you still here?”

Warren’s tone sharpened, as if he were a husband uncovering betrayal. “Answer me! What’s your relationship?”

A cold, mocking smile curved Vivienne’s lips. “And what position are you in to question me, Mr. Mitchell?”

“I…” Warren began, but the words caught in his throat. There was no legitimate argument he could muster.

Vivienne’s sardonic smile deepened as she gestured toward the door. “Mr. Mitchell, let me repeat myself—leave.”

Warren stood stiffly, his lips pressed into a tight line as his eyes darted toward Sinclair. Without another word, he grabbed Natalie’s hand and turned on his heel to leave.

Yet as he reached the door, he hesitated, glancing back at Vivienne with an unreadable expression clouding his eyes.

The moment they were gone, Vivienne walked to the door and slammed it shut with a resounding bang, the sound reverberating through the ward.

Natalie glanced at the closed door, her expression unreadable before she turned to Warren. Her lips curved into a faint, detached smile. “Vivienne seems to have quite a collection of male friends. Meanwhile, I only have you.”

Warren remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere. Natalie’s smile faltered momentarily before she pressed on. “That man looked older. Have you met him before? Any idea who he is?”

Warren’s brows furrowed slightly, his voice low and uncertain. “Perhaps someone she’s worked with before.”

“I see,” Natalie murmured contemplatively.

Inside the ward, Sienna picked up her bag, her gaze settling briefly on Vivienne. “Now that you have company, I’ll take my leave.”

She gave Sinclair a polite nod before walking out, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

With Sienna gone, the ward suddenly felt much larger, the silence settling like a blanket around Vivienne and Sinclair.

Sinclair set his glass of water down with a soft clink and spoke first, his voice calm but tinged with an edge that sent a subtle chill through the air. “Was that the man you were so determined to marry three years ago, despite the family’s objections?”

Vivienne hesitated briefly before nodding, her expression unreadable.

Sinclair’s lips twisted into a derisive snort. “That man doesn’t look the least bit deserving of you!”

He had prepared a long lecture for his niece, but seeing her stand there, quiet and reserved, his resolve softened. With a sigh, he shook his head, the sternness in his voice replaced by exasperation. “You gave up a life of privilege, walking away from the Sinclair family, only to end up working for a man like that. Tell me, was it worth it?”

“No, it wasn’t,” Vivienne replied with a faint, playful smile, handing him another glass of water. “Uncle Sinclair, don’t be mad. I’ve already learned my lesson.”

Sinclair raised an eyebrow, accepting the glass with a dry chuckle. “Mad at you? You’re the pampered darling of the Sinclair family. Even if I were ten times braver, I wouldn’t dare stay angry with you.”

It was no secret that the Sinclair family of Lyhaton—the wealthiest in the city—held one mysterious young woman at the center of their affections. Though her name was rarely mentioned, her presence in the family was legendary. Benjamin would move heaven and earth for her, and his two sons treated her as though she were made of gold.

Between her two uncles, Vivienne seemed to share a particular ease with Sinclair, perhaps because he was only eleven years older than her. Around him, she was uninhibited and unguarded in ways she wasn’t with Cameron.

Looping her arm through his, Vivienne shook it lightly. “Oh, Uncle Sinclair, I know I made a mistake. Don’t be mad, okay? Pretty please?”

Sinclair sighed, his expression softening even as he tried to maintain a stern tone. “Vivienne, you’re far from foolish, so why did you let yourself get tangled up in this mess?”

His brows drew together in frustration. “What does Warren have to offer that’s remotely worthy of you? I don’t know what kind of spell he cast, but it must’ve been a powerful one!”

His voice carried a mixture of disbelief and disappointment as he considered all the ways Vivienne had sacrificed for someone so undeserving.

As he fiddled with the glass in his hands, Sinclair’s gaze darkened slightly, a shadow passing through his eyes behind the glint of his glasses. “That meteoric rise of the Mitchell Group during the crisis… don’t tell me that had nothing to do with you.”