Chapter 378

Olivia Sinclair swirled the crimson liquid in her crystal glass as she approached Victor Blackwood with practiced grace. "Congratulations, Mr. Blackwood," she purred, her voice smooth as silk.

Victor's shoulders stiffened at the sound of Olivia's voice. Ever since her return to Eldermere, misfortune had shadowed his every step like a persistent ghost. He couldn't shake the superstition that her presence brought calamity.

Now, surrounded by the elite of Eldermere society, Victor forced his lips into a tight smile. "Olivia, what exactly do you mean by that?" His fingers twitched against his own glass.

"Isn't it wonderful that I helped eliminate those troublesome elements for you?" Olivia's eyes sparkled with false warmth, her smile radiating what appeared to be genuine delight.

Victor's mood darkened instantly. He knew cutting ties with Miranda Graves had been the most prudent decision under the circumstances.

Yet he couldn't deny the operational headaches her absence created. Finding someone as obedient yet resourceful as Miranda wasn't an overnight task.

"You've had your revenge, Olivia," Victor said through gritted teeth. "Nothing actually happened to you. Miranda never intended real harm. If you continue this vendetta, you're essentially declaring war on the Blackwood family. Surely you don't want to make enemies before securing your position in Eldermere?"

Was that a threat? Olivia's mind flooded with contempt even as her expression remained serene. She nodded solemnly. "You're absolutely right. I could allow Miranda to return to your service."

Victor's face brightened momentarily before Olivia continued in a voice like chilled champagne, "Though I wonder if you'd dare trust her now. She's quite disillusioned with you, after all. And let's not forget how much suffering I've inflicted upon her - with you as the direct cause. I imagine she resents us both equally."

The smile slid from Victor's face like melting ice. Olivia maintained her radiant expression, though her eyes remained arctic. Victor's hands clenched into fists at his sides. Normally a master of emotional control, only two people could crack his composure - Liam Blackwood and Olivia Sinclair.

The resemblance between Olivia and Liam unsettled Victor profoundly. It was as if she reflected Liam's most dangerous qualities back at him. Catherine Winslow observed her husband's struggle with a sigh. Turning to her daughter, she suggested, "Lillian, darling, isn't that Isabelle over there? Why don't you go play with her?"

Lillian Winslow bore no resemblance to the meek, stuttering girl who had visited Olivia's home weeks earlier. Dressed in couture that cost more than most people's annual salaries, the young girl carried herself with aristocratic disdain, her nose perpetually tilted upward as she surveyed the room with imperial judgment.

Olivia understood perfectly. At Lillian's age, appearances meant everything - a fragile ego needing constant reinforcement through displays of superiority. She turned her attention to Isabelle instead.

Isabelle's face lit up like a sunrise. "Can I play with Lillian, Mommy?" she asked with hopeful eyes.

Olivia smoothed her daughter's hair affectionately. "Of course, sweetheart. Just stay where I can see you, and remember your manners."