Chapter 35

"Absolutely true. The man's wealth is obscene. Just ancient, hideous, and practically on death's door."

The guests exchanged puzzled glances, mentally cataloging every elderly billionaire in attendance.

A server approached Evelyn with perfect posture. "Miss Thorne, you're requested on the upper level."

Her head snapped up.

The venue's open architecture revealed the second-floor balcony clearly from the main hall.

Dominic's personal guard stood at the railing, his gaze locked on her.

As the waiter guided her away, the crowd's smirks transformed into stunned silence.

This wasn't just any gala - it was a meticulously curated hierarchy of power.

While the merely wealthy mingled below, true influence gathered upstairs.

"Evelyn Thorne ascending to the upper level? Who the hell is backing her?"

"Must be someone terrifyingly connected if she's getting that invitation! Even if he's a fossil, she's struck gold!"

"I've scanned the guest list twice - there aren't that many elderly moguls here tonight."

"Was she playing us all along?"

Dozens of eyes tracked her progress, but the upper level remained shrouded in mystery.

The private dining area held fewer than ten seats, all occupied by men who controlled empires.

Evelyn took the empty chair beside Dominic without hesitation.

Before them, culinary masterpieces adorned the table.

She turned to him, eyebrow arched. "You didn't drag me here for canapés, surely."

Dominic studied her expression before murmuring, "Julian's expected. Since you couldn't resist seeing him behind my back during my trip, I'm granting you a proper reunion."

The revelation caught her off guard.

Did he truly believe she pined for Julian? That she couldn't function without him?

Pathetic.

Starving from skipping dinner, Evelyn focused on her plate rather than arguing.

Her silverware clinked against fine china as she ate with single-minded determination.

"Mr. Blackwood, your nephew still owes me three million. Normally I'd write it off, but given your... strained relations, I'll have to collect directly."

"Caught him grooming my daughter last month. Twenty years old! When the investment scam failed, he tried seduction. Disgusting creature."

"Julian Whitmore's the laughingstock of finance. Every venture implodes spectacularly. Almost pitiful if he weren't so arrogant. Only his father's money keeps him afloat."

As the vitriol flowed, Dominic's attention shifted to Evelyn.

"Checking if I've lost my appetite?" She met his gaze coolly. "The food's exquisite, though the pasta's al dente. I'm finished."

Cutlery discarded, she stood. "This conversation bores me. I'm leaving."

His hand closed around her wrist like a vise.

Evelyn twisted futilely against his grip.

"Are you that desperate for entertainment?" she hissed. "I've a thesis deadline. Release me or I'll email you the draft to complete yourself."

His fingers loosened at her glare.

Downstairs, Julian swayed slightly, champagne flute in hand, groveling before a group of investors.

Evelyn turned on her heel without a second glance.

When Dominic returned to Mooncrest Manor at ten, Mrs. Wilkins greeted him anxiously. "Has Madam Evelyn returned with you, sir?"

He checked his watch, brow furrowing. "She departed at eight. She's not home?"