The taxi stopped right in front of a well-known shopping center not far from the hospital.
“Who were you texting?” Evan asked, glancing briefly at Vivienne’s phone screen, which she quickly turned off.
“Just the police officer who helped tow my car earlier. The trucking company that hit us will cover all the damages.”
“I’ll buy you a new car later,” Evan replied.
“And you’ll pay with your words alone?”
Vivienne gave a sarcastic smile as she stepped out, gesturing for Evan to follow her.
Their destination was a famous clothing store on the second floor.
Vivienne’s arrival caught the special attention of a red-haired woman wearing a navy dress with a plunging neckline, barely containing her prominent assets.
The light-brown-eyed woman was none other than Selene Ardyn—Vivienne’s cousin.
Selene was nothing more than a flirt who loved to dress extravagantly and dreamed of attracting wealthy men. Most of them came only to enjoy her body—including her fiancé, Gideon Dane, who was currently busy browsing clothes behind her.
Gideon had no real feelings for Selene. He was simply proud of her sexy figure and her status as a famous influencer.
Coming from a tier B family, Gideon’s parents strongly disapproved of him marrying Selene, a member of the same tier C family line as Vivienne. Selene’s family owned no assets, and her father was entangled in numerous problems.
The engagement had been kept secret. As their only child, Gideon’s parents didn’t want to risk their son turning against them, though they were still trying to prevent the relationship from progressing further.
Selene had always been jealous of Vivienne—once the heir of the LaRue family's fortune, and undeniably more beautiful.
“Honey!” Selene grabbed Gideon’s arm, her eyes locked onto Vivienne. “Let’s go say hi to someone!”
Looking confused, Gideon reluctantly followed his fiancée’s lead, unaware that their target was Vivienne.
Selene’s eyes were focused on Vivienne’s back, but her steps suddenly halted when Evan—who had paused earlier to look at some clothes—walked past them.
“Oh my God!” Selene shrieked, causing Evan to stop in his tracks. Vivienne and several nearby shoppers turned their heads.
“Selene, what is it?!” Gideon asked, bewildered.
“Can’t you see who that is? That man in front of us? He’s a rapist!” Selene shouted loud enough to shock the other customers.
Vivienne immediately stormed up to her, pointing at Selene in fury.
“Watch your mouth!” Vivienne snapped.
“Oh, my dear pretty cousin who failed to become the heir—Oops! Sorry! I mean, did I say something wrong? Your husband is a rapist. Just accept the truth!” Selene mocked.
“If you say that again, I will slap you, Selene!”
Evan quickly wrapped an arm around Vivienne and said calmly, “Don’t waste your time responding to people who don’t matter. Let’s just finish what we came here for.”
Just as they turned to walk away, Selene piped up again in a sugary tone.
“Is this how you treat family? After all this time apart? Vivienne, you’re such a stuck-up cousin!”
“Oh, come now, let me introduce myself,” Gideon chimed in. “Let’s not ruin everything over a misunderstanding.”
Selene nodded slowly, unaware of Gideon’s true motive—he simply wanted to admire Vivienne’s beauty up close.
Evan wasn’t interested in speaking to them, but Vivienne, still fuming, stepped forward and glared at them both.
“Fine, let me do the introductions. I’m Vivienne, and this is Evan, my husband. I suggest you teach your fiancée some manners before she talks to someone!”
“Vivienne, I’m just being honest,” Selene said, her voice high-pitched but dripping with fake sweetness. “The truth is, your husband is a rapist—he was just released from prison after three years. Don’t be mad at me!”
Other shoppers began shaking their heads at the accusation. Vivienne clenched her fists.
“And one more thing, Honey,” Selene added, gazing at Gideon. “You should know they’re getting divorced soon, because our family refuses to let that rapist re-enter Vivienne’s life.”
“Selene, enough!” Vivienne snapped, raising her hand to slap her cousin, but Evan quickly stopped her.
The two cousins glared at each other with pure disdain. The only warm gaze in the room came from Gideon.
Vivienne’s beauty, once just gossip in his ears, was now right in front of him. He was awestruck—his heart pounded. And the mention of a possible divorce ignited dangerous thoughts.
“This is interesting. If Vivienne gets divorced, I’ll be the first to go after her. I’ll dump Selene—Vivienne is clearly more influential and a better match for me,” Gideon thought.
He immediately put his plan into action, stepping forward to defuse the tension.
“Well, ladies, maybe this drama has gone far enough. Can we calm down a bit?” Gideon smiled broadly, then turned to Evan. “Isn’t it odd, watching two beautiful women fight over a man like this?”
Vivienne turned to glare at him, just as Gideon suddenly grabbed her hand and kissed it softly.
“What the hell?!” Vivienne yanked her hand away.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I just wanted to say—you’re a beautiful woman. You’d be throwing your life away staying with a man like this,” Gideon said as he pulled out a business card. “Here. Call me anytime you need.”
Gideon’s move clearly infuriated Selene, who screamed loudly.
“Hey, you!” she pointed at a nearby store employee. “Come here! I want you to kick this rapist out! You want the store’s reputation ruined because of this disgusting criminal? You don’t want to be seen as rapist enablers, do you?!”
“Selene, you’ve gone too far! Evan has nothing to do with you!” Vivienne exclaimed.
“Whatever! Get them out!”
The employee obeyed, approaching them as other shoppers began to chime in agreement with Selene.
Vivienne’s eyes burned with anger. She wanted to attack Selene—but causing a public scene would only worsen her already shaky status in the family. Her grandmother would never forgive her if this became violent.
She still remembered how Selene used to be intimidated by her, back when she was the LaRue family’s heiress. But ever since Selene got engaged to Gideon, she’d grown arrogant and smug.
“Come on, you two need to leave, Mr. and Mrs.,” four store staff members approached, ready to escort them out.
“Not so fast. Don’t you dare touch us,” Evan finally spoke.
“What?! Are you insane? Who do you think you are?!” Selene snapped. “Grab them! Don’t listen to that rapist’s nonsense!”
She sneered at the staff with a crooked smile.
“You’ll regret it if you ignore me. Now, go call your manager—I want to speak to them,” Evan said calmly.
“Oh my God! Prison must’ve made you delusional—thinking you’re someone important!” Selene spat.
Vivienne, who’d reached her limit, prepared to yank Selene’s hair, but again Evan held her back.
“There’s no need to resort to violence for someone like her. Every word out of her mouth is a reflection of who she truly is,” Evan said.
He stared at Selene—his calm eyes now dark and ominous. His presence radiated authority and power.
Unconsciously, Selene grew uneasy. Cornered, she panicked and shouted again—this time calling security.
“Security! Come here! Get this filthy criminal out of here!”
Her scream ended just as the store manager arrived, looking irritated.
“Who’s causing a scene here?!”
Latest Chapter
163
The first week of January brought a deep, steady rhythm to Villa Seraphine. The initial holiday quiet had seamlessly dissolved into a period of quiet productivity, where long-term plans were drafted, refined, and set into motion with the calm efficiency that defined the Caelis-LaRue household.High above the coastline, the sky over Saint-Tropez was a pale, icy blue, washed clean by the brisk mistral wind that blew across the peninsula. Sunlight spilled into the villa’s upper gallery, reflecting off polished marble floors and highlighting the rich textures of architectural linen, dark walnut, and brushed brass.Inside the gallery's private drafting wing, Leo sat at a wide, tilted oak table. At thirteen, his focus was unshakeable. A physical scale model of the Lyon Foundation's central library complex sat before him, illuminated by a warm balance lamp. He was using a fine scalpel to trim a strip of miniature timber veneer, fitting it carefully along the interior curve of the model’s upp
162
On the first morning of the new year, the sky above Saint-Tropez opened into a brilliant vault of pale turquoise. A light, crisp northern breeze swept down from the snow-capped Alps, carrying the sharp scent of mountain pine across the granite headlands to mingle with the clean, briny spray of the sea.At Villa Seraphine, the morning began not with the sharp ring of secure communications or the tense briefing of security personnel, but with the quiet, rhythmic crunch of gravel underfoot.Evan walked along the upper stone terrace, dressed in a thick dark navy cardigan over an open-collared white shirt. His dark eyes scanned the wide expanse of the Mediterranean—not looking for thermal signatures or unfamiliar vessels, but watching the way the pale golden sunlight danced across the tranquil, obsidian swells. His posture was broad, imposing, and entirely relaxed, the physical embodiment of a man who had secured his world so completely that nothing remained to threaten it.He paused near
161
A crisp alpine frost glittered on the stone balustrades of Villa Seraphine, while the Mediterranean below lay motionless, a vast sheet of pale sapphire reflecting the soft lavender and gold of the early winter dawn.Inside the villa’s primary conservatory, warmth radiated from a monumental hearth constructed of rough-hewn granite. Floor-to-ceiling glass arches offered an unobstructed panorama of the coastline, casting long, geometric patterns of golden light across the terracotta tile floor.Evan stood near the center archway, holding a porcelain cup of dark roasted coffee. Dressed in a dark charcoal cashmere sweater and tailored trousers, he watched the distant horizon where the sun was slowly lifting over the sea. His broad shoulders were relaxed, his posture easy and unhurried—the quiet, grounded presence of a man whose sanctuary was absolute.Beside him, Vivienne sat at a wide teak cutting table draped with swatches of heavy midnight-blue velvet and hand-woven Lyon silks. She wore
160
As the final days of December approached, an extraordinary tranquility settled over the estate. The morning sun rose over the Gulf of Saint-Tropez in a breathtaking wash of pale gold and liquid amber, clearing the thin morning haze off the water and warming the ancient stone terraces of Villa Seraphine.In the long, sun-drenched corridor connecting the private residential quarters to the design wing, the quiet rustle of silk and the soft hum of quiet activity created a comforting rhythm. The estate was entering its end-of-year period—not a time of frantic deadlines or urgent security measures, but a season of reflection, consolidation, and quiet celebration.Inside the spacious private study on the main floor, Evan sat behind a massive desk of reclaimed olive wood. The room was bathed in golden light streaming through the floor-to-ceiling arched windows that opened onto the lower orange groves. Dressed in a dark navy knit shirt with his sleeves pushed up, Evan was reviewing the final
159
The morning after Christmas broke over Saint-Tropez with a brilliant, golden stillness. The light dusting of snow that had blanketed the granite terraces the night before had melted under the early sun, leaving the cypress trees and ancient olive groves dripping with clear, crystalline water. The air was sharp, cold, and invigorated by the fresh alpine wind blowing gently off the distant mountain peaks.Inside the quiet sanctuary of the villa's private design gallery, morning light poured through the tall arched windows, illuminating the vast oak cutting tables, shelves of Lyon silk rolls, and framed architectural renderings that lined the whitewashed stone walls.Vivienne stood at the central work table wearing a dark grey cashmere dress, her hair swept up into an effortless, graceful knot. She was examining a series of hand-woven embroidery swatches destined for the upcoming spring foundation exhibition in Lucerne. Beside her, a silver pot of herbal tea steamed softly in the cool ro
158
Christmas Eve on the Côte d’Azur brought a rare, tranquil magic to Villa Seraphine. A soft, powdery dusting of snow—an uncommon gift from the northern winds sweeping off the Maritime Alps—lay lightly across the upper granite terraces, dusting the dark needles of the stone pines and outlining the stone balustrades in clean white lace.Far below, the Mediterranean remained a deep, motionless indigo, reflecting the pale silver glow of a full moon that hung high in a cloudless, star-dusted sky.Inside the grand living room, the atmosphere was bathed in a deep, welcoming warmth. A massive fire of seasoned olive logs crackled inside the stone hearth, sending showers of golden sparks up the chimney and filling the room with the fragrance of burning wood, dry fir branches, and sweet cinnamon.The floor-to-ceiling arched windows were left uncovered, allowing the moonlight to blend seamlessly with the warm amber glow of the room's iron chandeliers and table lamps.Evan stood by the hearth, look
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