The CEO's Rejected Wife And Secret Heir novel Chapter 25

Chapter 25: Chapter 25 – Vivian’s Rage

Vivian POV

The penthouse suite overlooked the city with floor-to-ceiling windows and marble floors—everything money could buy.

Everything that should have been mine.

I stood at the window with a glass of wine in my hand—red, expensive, the same color as the rage burning through my veins.

My phone buzzed on the glass coffee table. I walked over and picked it up.

A message from the private investigator: Found something. Call me.

I hit dial, and he answered on the first ring.

"Ms. Monroe." His voice was gravelly.

"What did you find?" I took another sip of wine.

"Your sister’s been busy these past three years." Papers rustled on his end. "Started from the bottom in London. Waitressing while pregnant."

"I know all that." I moved back to the window. "Tell me something I don’t know."

"She had the baby—a boy, born three years ago in London. Name’s Noah Alexander Monroe."

My hand tightened on the wine glass. "You’re sure it’s Damien’s?"

"DNA test would confirm it, but the timing lines up." More papers rustled. "And there are photos. The kid has his eyes."

"Send them to me." I drained the rest of my wine. "All of them."

"Already did." He cleared his throat. "Check your email."

I pulled up my email on my phone—six attachments. I opened the first one.

A little boy with black curls playing in a park. Those eyes—ice blue, unmistakably Blackwood.

Damien’s son.

The rage intensified. "Anything else?" I set down my empty glass.

"She’s been careful about keeping him hidden," he said. "No social media presence. No public records linking her to the child beyond the birth certificate. She’s gone to great lengths to keep him secret."

"Until now." I smiled at my reflection in the window.

"Until now," he agreed. "There’s one more thing."

"What?" I walked to the bar and poured another glass.

"Damien’s been trying to see her." His voice was careful. "Every day for the past week. Flowers. Showing up at her office. He was even waiting in her parking garage."

My hand froze on the wine bottle. "He knows about the boy?"

"Seems like it." Papers rustled again. "Saw him on a video call at some charity event. Made a whole scene."

I closed my eyes and took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm.

"Thank you." My voice came out steady. "Send me everything you have. Addresses. Schedules. Security details. Everything."

"Will do." He hesitated. "Ms. Monroe, if you’re planning something—"

"I’m not planning anything." I hung up before he could finish.

I was planning everything.

I walked back to the window and stared out at the city. Somewhere down there was the nephew I’d never met, the child that should have been mine to raise in a Blackwood mansion.

But Aria had taken that from me.

Just like she’d taken everything else.

My phone buzzed again—this time, a call. I looked at the screen.

Sophia Clarke.

Perfect timing.

"Sophia, darling." I answered with false sweetness. "How lovely to hear from you."

"Vivian." Her voice was sharp. "We need to talk."

"About Damien?" I settled onto the white leather sofa.

"About your sister." She practically spat the words. "Do you know what she’s done?"

"Enlighten me." I examined my manicure.

"She’s back in the city, running some company, and Damien is obsessed." Sophia’s voice rose with each word. "He’s at her office every day. Sending flowers. Leaving messages. He barely acknowledges I exist anymore."

"Anymore?" I raised an eyebrow. "Were you two together?"

"We had an understanding." She sounded defensive now. "Until she came back."

"An understanding." I repeated slowly. "How quaint."

"This isn’t funny, Vivian." Sophia’s breathing was heavy. "She’s ruining everything. Again."

"Again?" I leaned back against the cushions. "What did she ruin the first time?"

"She trapped Damien with that contract marriage." Sophia’s hatred was clear. "He was supposed to be free after the divorce. But now she’s back and he can’t see anyone else."

"Can’t?" I smiled. "Or won’t?"

"Does it matter?" Sophia snapped. "Either way, we need to do something."

"We?" I traced the rim of my wine glass. "What exactly are you proposing?"

"I don’t know." She sounded frustrated. "But we can’t just let her waltz back into town and take over. She needs to be put in her place."

"And what place is that?" I asked softly.

"Gone." Sophia didn’t hesitate. "Away from Damien. Away from all of us. Preferably back to whatever hole she crawled out of."

Now this was interesting. Sophia Clarke was more than just jealous—she was desperate.

Desperate people were useful.

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