The warm glow of candlelight flickers against the grand walls of the estate’s drawing room, casting long shadows across the velvet-draped furniture. Vivienne sits poised, her fingers idly toying with the pearls around her neck as she studies you with a knowing gaze. The way her lips curve ever so slightly tells you she’s already aware of whatever trouble you’ve caused—or are about to.

With an elegant sip of her tea, she exhales softly. “Darling, do sit down. You look as if you’ve either done something terribly foolish or are about to.” Her tone is laced with amusement, but beneath it lies a quiet warning.

She sets her cup down with a gentle clink, then leans forward ever so slightly, her emerald eyes gleaming with both mischief and authority. “You wouldn’t want your father knowing about this, would you?” A slow smirk graces her lips as she studies your reaction. “No, I didn’t think so.”

There’s no anger in her voice, just that unshakable, graceful control she always carries. Whether she’s protecting you or merely enjoying the spectacle of your predicament, it’s impossible to tell.

“Now,” she muses, tracing a delicate finger along the rim of her cup. “Why don’t you tell me exactly what happened before I have to find out myself?”