Chapter 4

Olivia's POV

The next day, I received a phone call from Sean Foster's assistant, Julian Ward.

"Mrs. Foster, Mr. Foster has booked out The Lantana tonight to make up for your birthday. The driver will pick you up at seven o'clock."

The Lantana was the most exclusive high-end restaurant in New York. Strictly reservation-only, a full buyout cost seven figures.

This was how Sean Foster celebrated my birthday every year.

Grand spectacles, lavish spending, and always dedicated photographers on site.

Then press releases would flood the media, touting Mr. Foster's devotion to his wife and the win-win partnership between Foster Group and Vance Group.

Following that, the stock prices of both companies would soar, and comment sections would be filled with envy.

In the past, I thought this was proof of his regard—a perfect win-win of love, fame, and fortune.

Now I understood it was merely business, devoid of a shred of real feeling.

For a man like Sean Foster, true devotion meant flying halfway across the globe and waiting three hours in line just to buy a dessert for Vivian Hayes.

Vivian had posted that ice cream on her account with the caption: "Sean said he couldn't stop thinking about me while waiting in line."

I didn't want to go.

However, the collaboration between Vance Group and Foster Group was still wrapping up, and Audrey Vance was working around the clock to finalize things.

If I failed to show up now and Sean suspected something, it wouldn't do the Vance family any good.

For the sake of the Vance family, I had to play my part in this farce until the end.

At seven in the evening, I arrived at The Lantana right on time.

The restaurant had been specially redecorated.

Champagne roses covered every corner beneath opulent crystal chandeliers; the display was as extravagant as ever.

Sean Foster stood waiting in the center, clad in formal attire.

Seeing me walk in, he came forward holding a bouquet of champagne roses.

"Olivia, happy birthday."

He produced a velvet box and opened it to reveal a sapphire necklace.

A few days ago, Vivian Hayes had posted a picture wearing the exact same necklace design around her neck.

But Vivian's was pigeon-blood ruby—far more precious and expensive than this sapphire.

I thanked him, took the box, and casually placed it on the table.

The photographer's camera clicked continuously.

We took our seats to order, and Sean remained as attentive and courteous as ever.

Suddenly, the restaurant doors swung open, and Vivian Hayes barged in with an aggrieved pout.

"Sean! I went to your office looking for you, but you weren't there. So this is where you were!"

Sean immediately stood up to greet her, taking her hands and rubbing them between his palms.

"It's so cold outside! You should've just waited for me at home. Why run around out here?"

Vivian glanced at me.

"You're having dinner with her without me! I don't care, I'm starving, I want to eat too!"

"All right."

Sean smiled and pulled out a chair for her, completely disregarding my opinion.

He summoned the waiter and placed the orders with practiced ease.

"Steak medium-well. No mango in any of the desserts—not even a trace. And no nuts on the birthday cake."

Vivian's eyes curved into crescent smiles.

"Sean, you remember all my likes and dietary restrictions so clearly!"

Sean tapped the tip of her nose, his eyes filled with doting affection.

"You scatterbrain, you can't even remember your own allergies. If I didn't remember for you, you'd end up in the hospital again."

"Well, I have you! You'll always remember for me!"

"All right, I'll always remember for you."

The waiter collected the menus, cast a sympathetic glance in my direction, and stepped away.

Only then did Sean turn back to me, looking somewhat apologetic.

"Olivia, Vivian has hypoglycemia and can't go hungry, so I let her join us."

I knew full well that the angrier I became right now, the more triumphant Vivian would feel.

Slicing the steak on my plate, my expression remained placid.

"Be my guest, both of you."

A birthday dinner meant for two turned into a bizarre table for three.

Sean Foster and Vivian Hayes sat on one side, looking far more like a couple.

One moment Vivian asked him for water, the next for a napkin, and Sean complied with every demand.

When the steak was served, he expertly cut it into bite-sized pieces and placed them directly onto Vivian's plate.

I had once playfully asked him to cut my steak for me, too.

Back then, he had refused with a stern face, saying such childish antics had no place between us.

Watching the scene before me, my heart still stung a little.

I scooped a large spoonful of dessert into my mouth, and the ache dulled slightly.

Vivian eyed me from the corner of her vision and spoke up again.

"Sean, do you remember that time in high school? When I was bullied, you brought several bodyguards to rescue me.

And once you arrived, you wouldn't even let the bodyguards touch them—you insisted on fighting yourself. You punched them like a madman, blow after blow. Even after they were knocked out cold, you wouldn't stop, until the bodyguards finally pulled you off."

So Sean Foster had his moments of losing control after all.

Vivian turned toward me, flashing an intentional smirk.

"Olivia, Sean protects you like that too, right?"

I had been harassed once, too.

At a business gathering, an intoxicated client who didn't know my identity mistook me for a regular Foster Group employee and tried to grope me.

Sean happened to witness it. He had someone call the police on the spot and severed all business channels with that client's company the very next day.

Ruthless, composed, and without lifting a single finger from start to finish.

That was the Sean Foster the world knew.

Sean obviously recalled that incident as well, guilt flashing across his face.

"Vivian, stop fooling around. I was young back then and lacked restraint."

I smiled lightly.

"Understood. Ms. Hayes is your cousin, after all. It's only natural for an older cousin to protect her fiercely."

The smile on Vivian's face froze.

Sean's expression also soured.

At that moment, Julian Ward, standing in the corner, couldn't watch any longer and stepped forward hesitantly.

"Mr. Foster, this..."

He gestured toward the photographer beside him.

The photographer had already lowered the camera, standing at a complete loss.

With three people at the table and Mr. Foster nestled close to Ms. Hayes, there was no way to take proper photos.

Sean cleared his throat.

"We have enough material for today. You may leave and release the press coverage."

Julian quickly complied and led the photographer out.

Seeing that, I calmly rose to my feet as well.

"I'm full. Enjoy your meal, you two. I'll take my leave."

Picking up my handbag, I walked toward the exit, leaving both the flowers and the necklace on the table.

Instinctively, Sean gave chase.

"I'll drive you!"