Chapter 5

A week passed before Vivian finished handling Eleanor's funeral. The Hartwell family was relying almost entirely on Camille. So, as soon as the funeral ended, she headed straight back to Durmont. Before she left, she warned Vivian about a few things. Vivian, pale as paper, told Camille she would return on time and cut things off cleanly. When Vivian got back to the villa from the airport, the purple roses in the yard had withered after a week without care. Purple roses were supposed to symbolize protective love. Logan had planted them himself when they first bought the villa. When Vivian saw the wilted, yellowed roses, a flicker of mockery crossed her eyes. She walked over, yanked every rosebush out by the roots, and tossed them into the trash. Then, she pulled out her phone and made a call. "Hello. I'll take the price you mentioned last time. If possible, I'd like to sign the contract and transfer the title as soon as we can." The person on the other end agreed. After they set a time, Vivian hung up and went upstairs to pack. She gathered all her valuables and moved them back to Eleanor's house. Everything else connected to Logan, she threw away. By the time Jack arrived, the trash bins at the front gate were overflowing. He glanced over with faint confusion and looked a second time. Why did those clothes look so familiar? When he spotted Vivian, he called out, "Mrs. Whitfield—" Vivian lifted a hand to stop him. "My last name is Hartwell." Jack's expression tightened. "Ms. Hartwell, Mr. Whitfield has a banquet tonight. He asked me to pick up a suit. I'd appreciate it if you could help match something for him." Vivian asked expressionlessly, "Why doesn't he come back and get it himself?" Jack lowered his head, not daring to meet Vivian's eyes. "Mr. Whitfield just got back from a trip to a neighboring city, then went straight to the office to handle work." Vivian said, "Is that so? I thought he didn't want to come back." Jack didn't dare look up. Vivian wasn't interested in making it harder for him. She glanced at the trash bins and spoke lightly. "Go dig through those." Jack followed her gaze and saw that the property staff were already hauling the overflowing bins away to be disposed of. "What?" he asked, confused. Vivian sounded almost casual. "Hurry up. If you wait, the good stuff will get picked clean." With that, she walked past him. A moment later, she started her car and drove off. Jack's face twitched. To finish the task Logan had given him, he had no choice but to chase down the bins as they were carted away. ... At Whitfield Group, Jack stormed into Logan's office, clutching a suit he'd wrestled back from scavengers. Everything Vivian had tossed was expensive. The scavengers went at it like a feeding frenzy. During the scramble, someone's elbow had caught him right near the eye. The swelling was so bad that the skin around it had turned red and puffy. "Mr. Whitfield..." Jack looked at Logan and Sloane, their heads nearly pressed together inside the office, and resentment bubbled up. Logan was the one who caused it, but Jack ended up paying for it. Hearing him, Logan, who had been walking Sloane through project details, looked up. When he saw how disheveled Jack was, he paused. "Vivian hit you?" he asked. Sloane looked surprised, then gave Jack a faintly sympathetic look. In Sloane's eyes, Vivian was unhinged. She had thrown coffee on her at the bridal boutique for no reason. Jack drew a slow breath, keeping it to himself. He almost wished Vivian had been the one to hit him. Before he worked for Logan, he'd been Vivian's assistant. Half a year ago, when Vivian's health had taken a turn, he'd been reassigned to Logan. Over these six months, he'd watched Logan and Sloane become what they were now. Jack felt guilty for hiding it from Vivian. She had hired him first, after all. "No," Jack said. "I bumped into something." A flicker of disappointment crossed Sloane's eyes, but she had enough sense not to say anything. Logan gave a small nod and kept it brief. "Be careful." Jack hesitated, wondering if he should tell Logan what he had seen. Before he could decide, several clothing brand representatives walked in carrying formalwear. They lined up in a row, presenting the latest custom pieces in front of Logan and Sloane. Sloane's disappointment instantly turned into delight. Logan seemed pleased by her reaction. He raised a brow, amusement in his dark eyes. "Pick one. You're coming with me to a banquet tonight." Sloane's eyes shone as she looked at him with open adoration. "Really? Can I?" Logan lifted a hand and patted her head. "Yes, you can." With his approval, Sloane stood and began choosing the gown. Whatever Jack had been about to say, he swallowed back down. He left Logan's office without a word. ... That night, Vivian's best friend, Vanessa Carver, who specialized in corporate mergers and acquisitions brokerage, invited her to an auction banquet. Vivian happened to want Vanessa's opinion on what her Whitfield Group shares were worth. She planned to sell every share she held in Whitfield Group. Vanessa was an expert in this field. If Vivian let her handle it, she could get far more than if she tried to sell them on her own. When Vivian arrived at the venue, she headed straight to the private room Vanessa had indicated on the second floor. She opened the door and saw Vanessa sitting alone, her expression dark. "Who pissed you off—" Before Vivian could finish, voices carried in from the private room next door. The soundproofing in the auction suites wasn't good. "Logan, you really have life figured out. You're getting married next month, and you've still got Ms. Mercer by your side. She's gentle and sweet, and she's even willing to stay with you without asking for a title. "That doesn't surprise me at all. What I'm curious about is how you manage things at home with your fiancee. You'll have to teach me a few tricks." Logan didn't answer. Plenty of people around him were eager to flatter. "Even if Logan wanted to teach you, you don't have his charm. Vivian's crazy about him. She's terrified he'll leave her, so how would she dare make a scene?" "A real man should be like Logan. The household runs smoothly, and he still gets to play around." Vanessa's face burned with fury. She shot to her feet. Vivian reached out to hold her back. The sudden movement tugged her skirt, sending a cup clinking sharply off the table. From next door, Logan's low voice cut in. "Enough. Focus on the auction." Vanessa was shaking with anger. Seeing how calm Vivian looked, she understood Vivian had known all along. Her face hardened. "You're just going to take it?" Vivian answered slowly, her voice loud enough for the next room to hear. "Everyone hits moments in life that feel like stepping in shit. If I don't clean it up and move on, am I supposed to announce to the world that I stepped in it?" The private room next door went silent. The air in both rooms went dead still.