Chapter 419

Chapter 419:
“Exactly!” Alexia grinned. “And if we’re happy, someone else is definitely miserable tonight.”
“You’re totally giving off villain vibes right now, haha!”
“Maybe I’m just trying the role on for size.” Newest update provided by
Their laughter filled the room.
Outside, someone passed by the private dining area and leaned over to whisper something to a companion with a smile. A few seconds later, someone knocked on the door.
A server entered, wheeling in a cart. “Mr. Myron Elliott heard you were celebrating here,” the server said politely. “He sent over one of our finest—Victory’s Dawn.”
Meanwhile, at Vivian’s place, she stared at her screen in disbelief. The same netizens she’d once instructed Johnny to unleash on Millie were now turning on her. Her expression contorted with fury.
The group accepted the wine, and Charles asked the server to thank Myron for them.
“Mr. Elliott is really kind,” Alexia said, glancing at the expensive wine. Charles chuckled, though he wasn’t sure why exactly Myron had sent the wine—he really didn’t have to.
“Maybe my charm is just too much to resist,” he replied after a moment.
Millie acknowledged the wine with a quick glance but said nothing. The others had already opened the bottle, and the room was filled with laughter.
Meanwhile, at the Moonlit Estate, in a dimly lit room, Brandon’s phone buzzed violently on the floor. He slowly raised his head, hesitated, and then tapped the screen to answer.
“What is it?” His voice was tired.
“Mr. Watson, something’s wrong. It’s Miss Simpson…” the caregiver said, her voice shaking.
The Aston Martin tore through the streets. Brandon drove straight to Vivian’s apartment, his lips pressed into a tight line. He hurried upstairs.
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The caregiver opened the door in a panic, speaking quickly as she led him inside. “She’s been in the bathroom for nearly half an hour. She won’t open the door no matter how much I knock. I checked—one of the fruit knives is missing.”
Brandon followed her to the bathroom.
“Vivian,” he called, knocking on the door.
No answer.
“Open the door.” He knocked again, louder.
Still nothing.
He stepped back a little and then kicked the door open. It crashed inward. Vivian lay in the bathtub, her wrist bleeding.
“Miss Simpson!” the caregiver cried.
“Don’t come near me!” Vivian shouted, clearly startled.
She still had the knife in her hand, and her expression was wild. The caregiver froze, unsure of what to do.
“Why are you here, Brandon?” Vivian sobbed.
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