Chapter 102: A Late-Night Visit

Chapter 102: Chapter 102: A Late-Night Visit

Since Irene Coppola had been away for a long time and her parents had returned to Napa Valley, only Ophelia and the housekeeper who looked after Lucky remained in the large house in Malibu.

Initially, her mother, Eleanor, had wanted to take Lucky back with her, but Irene had specifically called to ask for him to stay. Thinking that Irene might be a bit lonely alone in Malibu, her mother had no choice but to agree.

Just as she finished changing and walked out of the bedroom, Lucky couldn’t wait to rub against her legs with his short little limbs.

Although he was already a nine-month-old puppy, those short legs didn’t seem to have made much progress. Irene noticed they were, at most, only a tiny bit longer than when she first found him.

She bent down and gently scooped the little fellow into her arms, her fingers stroking his soft fur one by one.

Lucky’s originally restless excitement gradually calmed under her gentle touch.

Although the filming tasks were heavy, they weren’t so overwhelming that there was no time to rest, so she had generously given everyone a week off. As for not attending the celebration party, that was entirely her own aversion to socializing.

As for whether Adelaide would find out that the crew wasn’t actually filming, she didn’t care to worry. With her current status, she no longer needed to explain herself to anyone.

"Irene, the land use approvals for 350 Broadway in downtown Los Angeles, the Los Angeles Union Station subway tunnel, the Los Angeles River bed, and the Figueroa Street tunnel next to the 110 Freeway have all come through.

However, we can’t use them at the same time. Brown Charles wants us to provide a schedule as soon as possible so he can coordinate with the local authorities." Vera Cecil hadn’t gone straight home but had come with her to Malibu.

"Don’t worry, I’ve prepared everything. You can reply to him. It won’t delay anything." Irene sank into a lounge chair. The afternoon sun was no longer harsh, and its temperature was just right.

Venice was nice, but it was just too damp for her liking. No matter how strong the sun was outside, it always felt as if she were wrapped in moisture. If she stayed any longer, she would have become depressed.

"Put all these matters aside for now. Didn’t I give you all a week’s vacation? Go spend time with your boyfriend. Otherwise, if you’re away for so long, he’ll be complaining to me," Irene teased.

"I’ll leave after confirming this one thing. But is there really nothing else urgent? Do I need to track the box office for Mean Girls?"

In fact, during her time in Venice, she hadn’t completely stopped monitoring Mean Girls’ box office. After all, she had a share in every dollar it earned. How could she not care?

"Now that I’m back in Los Angeles, I’m sure plenty of people will help me track it. Don’t worry. Be good and go rest."

Seeing the serious expression on Irene’s face, Vera had no choice but to set down the documents, pick up her luggage, and head home.

At nine o’clock in the evening, Irene was in her bedroom watching a video recording of the stage play Chicago.

On the screen, the actors wore gorgeous costumes, using highly expressive song and dance to perform an absurd yet realistic story. Irene’s eyes were full of appreciation.

This wasn’t the first time she had seen this stage play. When she was making plans before, she had considered adapting this classic. Those plots full of dramatic conflict and vivid character images were exciting to think about.

But once she decided to include Pirates of the Caribbean in her plan, there wasn’t enough time to prepare this film. After all, she knew nothing about musicals, and the early preparation would certainly take a long time. If it ended up delaying the filming of Pirates of the Caribbean, it would be more trouble than it was worth.

During a scene change, the TV went silent. She suddenly heard a knock at the door—not heavy, yet exceptionally clear in the quiet night.

Ophelia opened the front door. "Miss Taylor?"

Vivian’s face looked a bit lost and pale, her backpack slung casually over her shoulder.

"Is Irene home?" she asked softly.

Ophelia quickly let her in. "She’s in the bedroom."

"I’ll go up and find her directly. Thank you, Ophelia."

Irene paused the video when she heard the movement. Sure enough, following the sound of footsteps coming upstairs, she opened the door and looked. "Why are you here at this hour?" Irene was very surprised and stepped aside to let her in. "What happened?"

Vivian walked into the room, and before Irene could close the door, her eyes turned red.

She set down her backpack, and tears fell without warning.

She slid down the door to sit on the floor, her shoulders trembling violently, her voice sobbing so hard it was almost out of tune. "Irene, I... I don’t think I’m my father’s child."

Lucky, by the bed, was awakened by the voices and walked over slowly, nuzzling her pant leg with his nose as if to comfort her. But Vivian had no energy to pet him now, so Lucky just wagged his tail and turned back to curl up on his small mat.

Irene was startled and quickly knelt down to support her shoulders. "Tell me slowly. What’s going on? Don’t worry, I’m here."

Vivian sat stiffly on the floor, her tears flowing harder. She raised a hand to wipe her face, took a deep breath, and then spoke the truth in fragments.

"I was organizing my mother’s old boxes yesterday and saw a letter she wrote when she was young. It said that before I was born, she had a brief encounter with someone while traveling in Europe. She doesn’t know who my biological father is."

Her voice was filled with unbelievable pain. "Do you know? My mother has always been a symbol of nobility and perfection in my heart. She has European aristocratic blood and taught me etiquette and told me of the family’s glory since I was a child. I always thought our family was perfect—my father is a well-known lawyer, my mother is elegant and dignified, they love each other so much, and I’m their only child..."

At this point, Vivian suddenly raised her voice. "But now you’re telling me I’m just the product of a one-night stand? An accident in her life? How can I accept that? She is so elegant. How could she do such a thing?!"

Irene looked at her painful state, her heart full of helplessness.

She had also met Vivian’s mother. Indeed, as Vivian said, she was like the kind of noblewoman who would appear in a TV series, with her own artistic hobbies and a carefree life every day.

Meanwhile, Vivian’s father, as a well-known lawyer, earned enough to support the mother and daughter and was never a spoilsport.

Irene reached out and gently hugged her, patting her back. "Don’t get worked up yet. Let’s get up and sit on the bed to talk. The floor is cold."

Vivian allowed Irene to help her sit by the bed, her tears still flowing uncontrollably.

"My father loves her and respects her so much. I’ve never seen them get angry with each other. They’ve been so in love for all these years of marriage. I don’t know how to face them now. I feel like a joke, like a stain that broke into their perfect life."