23. Garden Party
23
GARDEN PARTY
RICHARD
I knew the moment we turned onto the narrow street lined with stone walls and ornate wrought-iron gates that Vivian had caught on. She straightened in the passenger seat, gazing out the tinted window at the familiar avenue of old-world Parisian mansions.
“I’ve been here before,” she exclaimed. “I’ve visited this neighborhood a few times. Adrien’s parents own a mansion around the corner.”
I nodded and smoothed my hand over my lapel. “Yes, they do. It’s a few doors down from the Buchanan mansion. When we were younger and spent time here, Rex and I used to play with their sons, although Adrien was the baby, much younger than the rest of us, so I didn’t know him as well.”
She raised her brows. “I can’t believe you knew them? You’re just now telling me?”
“My parents and Adrien’s have been friends for years. Jeanne and my mother were on the same arts foundation and even chaired other charities together for a while,” I explained. “But ever since Miriam settled with Mr. Astor in New York City, she’s been less present here.”
Her gaze narrowed, not in anger, but in surprise. “You never mentioned that.”
“As I devised this plan, you said you only wanted to know what part you needed to play today, which is the most important one of all.” Leaning in, I pressed a kiss to her lips as the car came to a stop outside the tall gates. “We’re going to get through this together, okay?”
The driver of the car ahead opened the back door, and we saw Paris rush out first. Her blush-pink tulle dress caught the sunlight like spun sugar, and her soft gold ballet flats shimmered as she stepped onto the cobblestone pathway. She patiently waited with her nanny and tutor by her side.
Our driver opened my door next, and I assisted my lovely date as she stepped out. Vivian gathered her long French blue skirt in one hand, the soft silk fluttering around her legs, while draping a cashmere shawl over her shoulders. Although the weather was perfect for the occasion, I had already promised her my suit coat should any rain come our way.
“Fuck, you’re breathtaking,” I said, holding her hands and leaning in, whispering into her ear. “Regal—as if you truly belong in this mansion with me.”
“The Buchanan mansion, I presume?” she asked as we broke apart, her eyes drifting upward to trace the ivy-covered columns of the limestone facade.
“Technically, it’s now the Buchanan-Astor mansion. My mother and Mr. Astor are hosting a garden party today,” I replied casually, adding, “I thought we would enjoy an afternoon out. You wanted closure. I wanted Adrien to finally face consequences. It’s easier to confront a snake like him in the open when you’ve already set the stage.”
She stared at me for a long moment before slowly nodding. “I hope you’re right.”
“My instincts tell me I am.”
She laughed softly. “That’s reassuring—and mine tells me to trust you… as if I have any choice. So, come on then.”
Paris piped up, “Daddy, is this a castle?” as she fell in step between us, gripping both our hands.
“You could call it a petite castle, one of the finest properties in the heart of Paris. I promise to give you both a grand tour later.”
We passed through the gates and along a winding path beside the house until the garden revealed itself like an impressionist painting of a delightful Parisian day.
White umbrellas sheltered linen-covered tables adorned with floral centerpieces, champagne flutes, and bite-sized pastries. A string quartet played under a white gazebo, their melody light and fluttering in the sunny spring air. Miriam moved gracefully among her guests in a crisp ivory sheath dress, her husband Mr. Astor by her side, exuding his usual quiet authority.
Before long, Paris’ nanny and tutor swept her away to join a few other children painting in the shade of a tree. She glanced back with a fluttering wave.
Vivian watched her go before looking up at me. “She’s so happy.”
“She’s safe and healthy, too,” I said. “That’s what happiness looks like. Now, beautiful, can I show you off as we parade through?”
I offered my elbow, and she accepted it, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride with her by my side. I led her through the garden, introducing her to some of Miriam’s acquaintances—curators, patrons, and even a French senator who lingered for a bit too long kissing her hand, prompting me to step in a little closer.
Vivian exuded graciousness, poise, and effortless elegance, gaining many appreciative glances from Miriam’s friends. “Did I tell you yet how stunning you are today?” I murmured, lightly brushing my hand down her back, and resting at the lower part of it, as we savored the finest French champagne beside the ornate archway leading to Mother’s rose garden.
She looked up with a grin. “It’s because this gown is exquisite, thanks to your black card.”
“I merely provided the means—you brought the dress to life. Gave it shape. A rather pleasing to look at silhouette.”
Before she could respond, she fell quiet, her gaze drifting toward a woman approaching through the garden. “Jeanne’s here.”
Tall, poised, with salt-and-pepper hair swept back into a neat chignon, Jeanne embodied grace, accented by her pearl earrings and matching necklace—exactly as one would expect from a renowned Christian lady.
We moved closer as Adrien’s mother welcomed the various guests. At the sight of Vivian, her face lit up.
“Vivian, my dear, come here,” Jeanne called out warmly, arms open. “What a lovely surprise.”
“Hello, Jeanne. It’s wonderful to see you,” Vivian replied, and they embraced, greeting with cheek kisses while Jeanne stepped back to admire her. “You look radiant. The years have only increased your beauty.”
“You are lovely, and too kind,” Jeanne replied. “When you visited Adrien last year, Paris was five then. She showed me her drawing of a unicorn spaceship.” Jeanne recalled with a wistful nod.
Vivian grinned. “I remember. She still draws those from time to time.”
“I have missed her terribly. The divorce was such a disappointment. I did not agree with it. But Adrien has never listened to me. You were the best thing that he ever had. Is Paris here with you?”
“Yes, she’s over there painting right now. But I’d love for you two to spend some time together visiting in a little while.”
Jeanne’s eyes drifted past Vivian, searching for Paris. “Yes. I would like that very much. I regret not keeping in touch better over the years.”
Turning her attention back to us, her eyes rested on me and her smile brightened further.
“And you,” she said, stepping forward and taking my hands. “Richard Buchanan. I have not seen you since you were, what, twenty-five?”
“Something like that. How are you, Jeanne?” I gave her the customary kisses on the cheek.
“I am fine. You know my charities keep me busy. My, but you have become a remarkable man. I read the article of you in the Financial Times. Your father would be proud.”
“Thank you,” I said, a peculiar lump in my throat as I glanced at Vivian.
Miriam joined us then, drifting in on a wave of perfume and clutching champagne flutes. Cheek kisses were exchanged once more.
“Jeanne, can you believe our children are all grown?” Miriam said wistfully.
“I was so sorry to miss Rex’s wedding. As you know, every Christmas we spend with the children at our orphanage in Nepal. God bless the little ones.” Jeanne punctuated her words with a sign of the cross.
Extending her hand, Miriam said, “It’s been years since I last donated to your orphanage. I’d love to contribute again.”
“I’m seeking a particular donor for our new library. How wonderful would it be to have it named after you?”
“The Miriam Library? Yes. Let’s hit up Mr. Astor before you leave today.” And that’s how the elite got things done. Money talked.
“Very kind. Richard, your mother has always been the most generous—” Jeanne began, but halted abruptly upon spotting someone I’d been expecting from across the way.
Adrien appeared, striding into the garden with the air of someone overcompensating for what he lacked. Slate suit, sunglasses, hair slicked back in a way that screamed “too much effort to pretend he wasn’t a cheap nightclub owner” among these guests.
He stopped mid-step at the sight of Jeanne.
Then he noticed Miriam.
Then me and Vivian.
His jaw tightened.
“Adrien,” I called, raising my hand before he could spin around and escape. “So glad you could join us.”
“Adrien?” His mother could hardly believe he was here, aghast and clutching her pearls.
He hesitated, then had no choice but to approach.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Jeanne said with a tight smile, and I was sure she whispered a reproach in French as Vivian stifled a snicker, being able to understand the language.
“Well, I, er... received an invitation from Richard,” Adrien mumbled before shifting his gaze to Vivian, his eyes trailing down her form. My fists clenched, and I fought to restrain myself from hitting him. I growled in frustration, while he merely smirked with no real warmth reaching his eyes.
“Jeanne, if you wouldn’t mind... I fear I’ve invited you here for more than just a social visit,” Miriam explained, gesturing to the interior. “Why don’t we all move into the conservatory? We can speak more freely there, and I’d love to show you the progress my gardeners have made with propagating lavender.”
We all followed her inside. I took up the rear, just in case Adrien decided to bolt. I couldn’t help but smile at my brilliance at how this plan all came together.
A while back, when I had asked Vivian for more details about our first time in Paris, she mentioned her history with Adrien. She had indicated meeting his parents. It reminded me of something Miriam had shared about how embarrassed Jeanne had been when authorities raided Adrien’s club. Her Christian friends were particularly disappointed to learn of his involvement. That memory was the seed that had set this entire plan in motion.
I knew that if we met with him on his terms, he would manipulate us, teasing us with what we wanted—his renouncement of rights—until he got what he desired, potentially millions more from me. Although I would gladly sacrifice everything for Paris to be mine, there had to be a way to circumvent his threats. I hoped today would be a success.
As soon as we entered the conservatory, Vivian didn’t hesitate. She reached into her clutch and pulled out the paternity document—undeniable proof that Paris was my daughter.
Vivian took a deep breath and explained our situation to Jeanne. She recounted how we met. Detailed Paris’ urgent need for a kidney, and how I was proven as her father. How I stepped in to save her while Adrien hesitated and avoided her calls for days. Vivian also mentioned that Adrien often neglected to provide financial support after the divorce and had rarely contacted Paris.
The most shocking revelation to Jeanne came when Vivian told her that upon learning the paternity results, Adrien demanded that she repay all the money he’d sent and more or he would sue.
Vivian played her part in this confrontation perfectly. Miriam, too, was on board with the plan the moment I had called and told her of it.
Jeanne took the document, scanned it quickly, and brought a hand to her mouth, while Adrien seethed with anger. She conceded, “She is not yours, Adrien. Never was.”
Adrien hesitated. “I only found out recently.”
I interjected, “There’s more. I’d like to give Paris my name. She’s a Buchanan, blood and bone and kidney. But to do that, we need Adrien to renounce his parental rights.” I clarified the entire reason for our gathering here today.
Jeanne, a tireless advocate for children’s causes, agreed. “ Bien sur , of course. As sad as it is not to have Paris in our family, I would never want to keep her from her rightful one.”
“Perfect. I happen to have the papers here.” I gestured to the stack that Miriam had received via courier from my lawyers. On the garden table in front of us, I spread them out. When I extended the pen to Adrien, he scoffed and stepped back.
“What are you doing, Adrien? Sign your name. Do the honorable thing.” Jeanne demanded, gesturing sharply toward the pen.
Vivian turned to her. “He threatened to stall the name change. I believe he wanted money.”
“What? Extortion? How could you?” she seethed. “That wretched club of yours does not make enough?”
Adrien snapped back, “You know how my business interests suffered since the raid, and you do nothing to support me.”
“I would never support that filth that you call a business. First you divorce a wonderful woman, then let them move to the states, leaving her as a single mother to take care of herself and her child. And now, when that girl can become a part of a well-respected family, you dishonor us like this? But why am I not surprised? You have been a disgrace ever since you opened that vile club.” A stream of French words followed.
Adrien flinched under her anger—a reaction I recalled now. How none of those Bardeaux boys ever dared defy their strict, formidable mother. Sadly, she might be the reason he abused Vivian, having grown up with a strict mother like her.
Jeanne fixed her fury on her son. “You bring shame upon me. You always have—from your dirty club to this…”
Adrien’s face flushed. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand perfectly,” Jeanne retorted, her tone icy. “You are not that child’s father. You never were. And I will not let you stand in the way of her real family.”
“You sign these, Adrien, and you can walk away,” I urged him, almost sorry for him. Then I remembered he had five million dollars of mine, and that sympathy quickly went away.
Adrien shifted his eyes from me to Vivian and then to Jeanne. Realizing defeat—having been deeply humiliated before his mother—he signed the document.
Jeanne snatched the pen from his hand, folded the paper, and with one last look of disgust, commanded, “Leave.”
He exited without even a backward glance. I quickly texted Mr. Astor, instructing him to monitor Adrien and ensure he didn’t approach Paris in the garden before departing.
For a moment, we all stood in silence after he had disappeared down the garden path.
Jeanne handed the document to me. “On behalf of my family, I must apologize for his disgraceful behavior,” she said, her tone calmer.
Vivian dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, then smiled. “Would you like to see Paris now?”
Jeanne’s face softened. “Yes, please.”
“I’ll join you,” Miriam replied. I was grateful she would, if only to watch that Jeanne treated Paris well during the visit.
I sent a quick text to the nanny, and within a minute, Paris skipped across the lawn with a crown of pink and purple flowers in her hair.
“ Grandmère? ” she cried, running up to Jeanne without hesitation.
Jeanne scooped her into her arms, kissing her cheeks. “You remember me?” Jeanne asked, voice trembling.
Paris nodded. “I drew you a rocket-unicorn picture, and you gave me chocolate.”
Jeanne laughed through her tears. “I could never forget you, ma petite. I never will.”
“And you know Mimi too?” Paris asked, tilting her head.
“We’ve been good friends for many years,” Miriam explained.
The nanny stayed close by to watch over things, so I took Vivian by the hand, and we left the trio to their conversation. We stepped inside and found a secluded corner where I could wrap my arms around her. Only then did we let go of the tension the situation had created, finally relaxing into each other.
“That went better than I expected,” I remarked.
“Is it really over, Richard? Or do you think Adrien might reappear in our lives?” she asked, still concerned.
“It’s over. He’s relinquished his rights. He has nothing left to negotiate with. The Bardeaux family is too proud, and we exposed him in front of his mother—almost like a modern-day tattling. I remember how easy it was to get the Bardeaux boys in trouble with their mother when we were kids by tattling about their mischief.” I gave her a sly smile, which made her chuckle.
Then I sobered. “I feel sort of bad, though. Learning that he was abusive to you and after seeing Jeanne’s treatment of him just now… I think the guy had it rough. I’m glad Paris has nothing more to do with him.”
“Me, too. Well, Mr. B. You certainly were quite the strategist in this plan. I can add that to your long list of admirable qualities.” Her eyes sparkled up at me.
“How about that tour of this place? We could find a cozy spot for ourselves for a while, and I’ll show you more of my admirable qualities,” I offered.
She kissed me with a hunger that left no room for doubt. “This day was everything I needed.”
I kissed her hand and led her down the hallway to the nearest bedroom. “It’s only the beginning.”
And it was.
Because we had everything now.
Trust. Peace. Love.
And each other.