Chapter 156
Chapter 156
Vivian's POV
I waited until the maid's footsteps faded down the hallway before slipping into Mom's bedroom. I shut the door behind me and kept my voice low. "Mom, are you really pregnant? When did this happen? Why didn't I know?"
Mom sat at her vanity, applying lipstick. A cold smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, and she didn't even glance up. "Pregnant? If I were actually pregnant, do you think I'd need to jump through all these hoops with Marcus?"
I froze. It took a second for her words to sink in. My voice dropped even lower. "Then why lie to him? What if he finds out?"
Mom set down the lipstick. "We'll deal with that when it happens. Right now, Marcus wants a divorce. If I don't dangle a baby in front of him, we'll be thrown out on the street. As long as I claim I'm pregnant, Dorothy will protect me, and Marcus won't dare push for a divorce."
She paused, adjusting her collar, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Vivian, that's not the most important thing right now. What matters is your end of things. You need to secure your connection with the Rivera family. You used Serena's identity to get close to Tiffany. Sure, Ethan saw through it, but Tiffany herself is still in the dark. What you need to do now is completely replace Serena's identity. Once you're in with the Riveras, even if things fall apart with the Blackwoods, we'll still have backing."
I felt a flutter of doubt. "But Mom, Ethan and Marcus both know I'm a fake. What if Serena goes to Tiffany someday and exposes me?"
Mom waved a dismissive hand. "If Serena actually cared about that identity, if she really wanted to be acknowledged by the Rivera family, she would have done it years ago. But she hasn't. She hasn't even set foot near them. That means she either doesn't care, or—she doesn't dare. So go ahead and take what's yours. Once you've locked down that position, there'll be a place for us in Manhattan's upper circles."
Watching Mom's confident expression, my hesitation slowly melted away.
She was right.
What was so special about Serena? She'd been back all this time, and she was still clawing her way up from nothing. Why should the Rivera family's door only open for her?
I'd spent years navigating Manhattan's social scene. I understood the rules of this game better than she ever could.
---
Back in my own room, I pulled out the paternity test report from the bottom drawer of my vanity. My fingers gripped the paper so tightly it nearly crumpled.
This document had cost me a lot of effort to obtain. The hair sample was Serena's, but the name on the report was mine.
Even if Tiffany investigated, she wouldn't find anything wrong.
I was going to show her this report today.
---
"Come in."
Tiffany's voice drifted out from the study—cool, detached, and utterly authoritative.
I pushed open the door. She was seated behind her desk, flipping through documents. She glanced up, her brow furrowing slightly. "What is it?"
I pulled the paternity report from my bag and held it out with both hands, keeping my posture humble and my voice earnest. "Tiffany, this is our paternity test. I know the way we reconnected was sudden, and I'm sure some people doubt I'm really your niece. I was worried you might—"
"I see."
She took the report, her eyes lingering on the words "Confirmed Genetic Match." Her fingers tapped lightly against the paper before she set it back on the desk. She said nothing more.
I held my breath, watching her, trying to read her thoughts. My heart skipped a beat.
"Thank you for believing in me," I said softly, injecting just the right amount of vulnerability into my tone. "I knew you wouldn't misunderstand."
At that moment, Tiffany's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and answered, her tone immediately more respectful. "Dad, what is it?"
I stayed where I was, pretending to browse the books on her shelf. The voice on the other end was loud enough for me to catch a few words. Tiffany responded with several "mm-hmms," then said something like "Isn't that too soon?" After a pause, her tone softened. "All right, I'll arrange it."
She hung up and let out a weary sigh. Turning to me, something flickered in her eyes—too quick for me to catch. "Tomorrow night, the Vanderbilt family is hosting a homecoming banquet for you at The Summit Club. Go home and prepare. Dress appropriately. Don't embarrass the family."
My eyes lit up instantly. My voice trembled with excitement. "Thank you, Tiffany! I'll prepare carefully. I promise I won't let you down!"
---
The next evening, The Summit Club blazed with light, the banquet hall buzzing with conversation.
I'd hired a professional stylist. My hair and makeup were flawless, and I carried a limited-edition Kelly bag. I wore a custom pink gown and stood beside Tiffany, who was dressed in a sleek black evening dress that radiated cold elegance. I couldn't help but lean slightly toward her, straightening my posture, trying to look less out of place.
But inside, I felt hollow.
Tiffany picked up the microphone, her voice carrying clearly through the sound system. "Thank you all for attending tonight. This is Vivian, my sister's daughter. From today forward, she is officially a member of the Vanderbilt family."
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
I kept the smile fixed on my face, but my ears couldn't help tuning into the whispers—
"This is the niece Tiffany mentioned? She doesn't look like much…"
"Yeah, nowhere near Tiffany's level. Her manners seem so stiff."
"Shh, don't say that. She's been acknowledged by the Vanderbilts now. Show some respect."
I gripped my bag so tightly my nails dug into my palm. But I kept smiling. Inside, I memorized every single name, every single face. Once I truly established myself in this circle, I would make them regret every word they'd said tonight.
Tiffany shot me a look, and I quickly stepped forward, mimicking her graceful manner as I greeted the Vanderbilt elders. But I was too nervous. My tone felt off, my gestures awkward. The older generation barely glanced at me, offering only perfunctory nods. They had no interest in engaging further.
I stood there, my smile on the verge of cracking.
That's when the banquet hall doors swung open.
I turned instinctively.
Ethan walked in, dressed in a sharp black suit, his broad shoulders cutting a striking silhouette. He seemed to pull all the light in the room toward him. Beside him, holding his hand, was someone else.
Serena.
She wore a white evening gown, her hair half-pinned, her makeup minimal. Her only accessory was a delicate chain with a sapphire pendant. But the moment she stepped through those doors, every eye in the room locked onto her like she was a magnet.
I knew that feeling all too well. It made me sick. She didn't have to do anything—just walk through a door—and all the light in the room bent toward her.
I felt the color drain from my face. The fragile confidence I'd built up began to leak away, drop by drop.
Why was she here?