Chapter 971

Rosalind was rendered speechless.

Normally quick-witted with a razor-sharp tongue, she had been ready to deliver a scathing remark when Lucian's soft murmur of "My love" instantly silenced her.

That simple endearment carried more weight than any flowery pet name ever could.

Pouting, Rosalind crossed her arms and maintained her sulky silence.

Genevieve shot Lucian an appreciative glance, impressed by his strategic intervention.

He merely smirked in response.

At The Velvet Lounge...

Reginald and Isabella were already seated at the bar when Lucian escorted Genevieve and Rosalind to an exclusive VIP section, where several wealthy socialites had gathered.

As everyone settled in, Reginald eyed Genevieve skeptically. "What brings you here?"

"Your dear friend Lucian insisted," Genevieve replied coolly. "Frankly, I'd rather be anywhere else."

Reginald fell silent, realizing she must have woken up on the wrong side of the bed.

Isabella glared daggers at both Genevieve and Rosalind. The animosity between them was palpable—three women in one room guaranteed explosive drama.

With a mocking smirk, Isabella turned to Lucian. "Couldn't decide between your past and present flames, so you brought both?"

"At least Ms. Fairchild and I hold significance in Lucian's life," Rosalind fired back without hesitation. "What does that make you after all these years? An irrelevant extra?"

Rosalind never pulled her punches.

Isabella's fists clenched, her face flushing with barely contained rage.

Meanwhile, Genevieve remained composed, observing the exchange with detached amusement.

The tension grew so thick that the men quickly intervened. "Enough! Let's just drink."

One of them grabbed a cocktail glass and offered it to Genevieve. "Ms. Fairchild, care for one?"

Before she could respond, Lucian cut in sharply. "She's pregnant. No alcohol."

The entire group froze.

"Wait... she's pregnant?"

"Who's the father?"

"It's obviously Mr. Graves, right?"

Lucian confirmed smoothly, "Yes. The child is mine."

Genevieve shot him a sideways glance. He hadn't needed to announce it so boldly, yet he'd deliberately claimed her pregnancy before everyone.

"Congratulations! A baby on the way!"

"We always knew only Ms. Fairchild could truly capture Mr. Graves' heart."

Isabella and Rosalind could only watch helplessly. This was Genevieve's victory lap—carrying Lucian's child cemented her position beyond challenge.

Lucian signaled a waiter. "Bring a glass of warm milk, please."

Within moments, the drink arrived. "Here you are, Mr. Graves."

He placed it before Genevieve. "Nothing else tonight. Just this."

Her priorities had shifted for the baby's sake.

"Fine." Her gaze drifted to the fruit platter. "But I want some fruit too."

Lucian arched a brow. "Which one?"

"Grapes."

Selecting the plumpest grape, he held it out as Genevieve reached for it.