Chapter 15

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she stared at her reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. The emerald-green evening gown hugged her curves perfectly, but her fingers trembled as she adjusted the diamond choker around her neck. Tonight was the Blackwood Charity Gala—and Nathan Blackwood would be there.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Lillian Graves, her assistant: "Car’s ready. Press is already swarming the venue. Stay sharp—Victoria Hayes just arrived with Julian Blackwood."

Evelyn’s stomach twisted. Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s cunning secretary, had been circling Julian like a vulture for weeks. Rumor had it she’d leaked false scandals to sabotage Evelyn’s reputation.

The gala hall glittered under crystal chandeliers, the air thick with perfume and whispered alliances. Nathan stood near the champagne tower, his charcoal suit cutting a severe silhouette against the opulence. His gaze locked onto Evelyn the moment she entered, dark and unreadable.

Before she could approach him, Victoria materialized at Julian’s side, her crimson dress a deliberate provocation. “Evelyn,” she purred, “how brave of you to show up after that tabloid disaster.”

Julian’s brow furrowed. “What tabloid disaster?”

Evelyn’s nails dug into her clutch. So this was Victoria’s play.

Nathan stepped forward, his voice a blade of ice. “Julian, the investors from Tokyo are waiting. Hayes, with me.”

Victoria’s smirk faltered as Nathan gripped her elbow, steering her away. But not before she shot Evelyn a look dripping with venom.

Evelyn retreated to the terrace, the cool night air a relief. Footsteps echoed behind her.

“Running away?” Nathan’s voice was low, rough at the edges.

She turned. “Just avoiding your secretary’s theatrics.”

He moved closer, the scent of sandalwood and something darker enveloping her. “Victoria’s irrelevant. But you—” His thumb brushed her wrist, igniting a traitorous spark. “—are a distraction I can’t afford.”

A crash inside the ballroom shattered the moment. Screams erupted.

Nathan’s phone blared—Marcus Donovan, Julian’s agent, frantic: "It’s Julian. He’s been poisoned."

The terrace doors burst open. Lillian, pale-faced: "Evelyn, they’re saying it was in his drink. And your fingerprints are on the glass."

Nathan’s eyes turned glacial. “Did you?”

Evelyn’s breath hitched. Someone had framed her. And with Julian fighting for his life, Nathan’s trust was already crumbling.

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse. She stretched lazily, her fingers brushing against the empty space beside her. Nathan Blackwood had left early—again.

A soft chime from her phone interrupted her thoughts. A message from Preston Whitmore, her director, flashed on the screen: "Emergency reshoot. Studio in an hour."

Evelyn groaned. She had planned to spend the day reviewing scripts, but Hollywood never waited.

As she stepped into her walk-in closet, her fingers traced the silk of a midnight-blue gown—the one Nathan had gifted her after their first red carpet together. A small smile tugged at her lips before she shook her head. No distractions today.

The studio was chaos. Crew members darted between sets, and Donovan Sharpe, the producer, barked orders into his headset. Evelyn slipped into her trailer, where Lillian Graves, her assistant, waited with a steaming cup of matcha.

"Morning, sunshine," Lillian teased. "You look like you could use this."

Evelyn took the cup gratefully. "Bless you. Any idea what the reshoot’s about?"

Lillian lowered her voice. "Rumor has it, Seraphina Delacroix messed up her lines—again—and Preston lost it."

Evelyn sighed. Seraphina, the second-tier actress with a penchant for drama, had been a thorn in everyone’s side since filming began.

On set, tension crackled in the air. Preston paced near the monitors, his jaw clenched. Seraphina stood in the center, batting her lashes at Sebastian Hart, her ex and co-star, who looked thoroughly unamused.

Evelyn took her mark, exchanging a quick glance with Sebastian. His smirk told her everything—today would be fun.

"Action!" Preston called.

The scene unfolded smoothly until—

"Wait, what?" Seraphina gasped mid-line, staring past Evelyn.

A hush fell over the set. Evelyn turned.

Nathan Blackwood stood in the doorway, his presence commanding the room. His gaze locked onto hers, intense and unreadable.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked. What was he doing here?

Then he spoke, his voice low but clear.

"We need to talk."

The set erupted into whispers. Preston groaned, rubbing his temples.

Evelyn swallowed hard. Whatever this was, it couldn’t be good.

The moment those embarrassing words slipped out, the Blackwood family exchanged awkward glances. Yet, beneath their discomfort, anticipation simmered—what would happen next?

Could tonight be the night?

"I was in the shower," Nathan explained, his deep voice laced with amusement. "That’s why it took me so long to answer the door."

"Oh, that’s... fine." Good save. Smooth.

Evelyn forced herself to look away from Nathan’s unfairly distracting frame, her cheeks warming.

Nathan’s lips quirked. "So, have you made up your mind?"

The Blackwoods held their breath.

"Actually, I have ten million now. Would you be willing to invest it for me?"

Sophia nearly choked on her drink.

Nathan simply nodded.

Evelyn tilted her head. "But I need to know—how can you guarantee profits? All investments carry risks."

His reply was immediate. "If there’s a loss, I’ll cover it. Your principal is completely secure."

Huh.

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected perk.

Nathan continued smoothly, "Consider it my thanks for helping my family again."

She accepted the credit without hesitation—after all, she had done them a massive favor. No point in false modesty.

"I’ll transfer the money later—wait, actually, let’s just invest nine million."

Nathan raised a brow at her sudden change.

I’ll keep a million handy, just in case.

Evelyn tapped her chin. "Is there an option for monthly dividends?"

That way, I’ll have steady income. No more financial stress.

Nathan’s expression darkened slightly. "If you need money, just use the card I gave you."

"I know," she laughed, "but what’s wrong with wanting to celebrate profits every month?"

Absolutely nothing—except that card is under my name, and your favorite punishment is freezing it. I won’t risk being broke if you ever get mad at me.

The flicker of insecurity in Evelyn’s eyes didn’t escape Nathan. His gaze sharpened.

She still doesn’t trust me.

"Understood. The final payment for your last job has been processed. You should receive it by tomorrow—around one million. So, let’s keep the total investment at ten million, agreed?"

"What? Seriously? Wasn’t I just scraping by on ad revenue before? How did it jump so high?" Evelyn Sinclair blinked in disbelief. Had the original host been so oblivious that she’d misremembered everything?

"This one’s… unusually generous," Nathan Blackwood lied smoothly, and Evelyn bought it instantly. Her delighted laughter rang in his mind like wind chimes.

The three eavesdroppers exchanged glances, pitying Evelyn. Clearly, all her insecurities stemmed from Nathan’s failure to make her feel secure.

Fine. From now on, we’ll just shower her with money. That ought to fix it.

Nathan suddenly shivered, sensing impending doom. After a beat, he cleared his throat. "If you ever have extra funds, hand them to me. I’ll add them to your investment portfolio."

Nathan, you’re perfect—except for refusing to share my bed!

Nathan choked on air.

Not sharing her bed?! The eavesdroppers mouthed to each other, scandalized.

If only I could sleep with him just once…

Nathan’s ears burned crimson. His gaze, previously sharp, now flitted anywhere but Evelyn’s face.

The trio mentally cheered Evelyn on. If Nathan could hear her thoughts, maybe her boldness would finally break through his defenses.

Come to think of it… has any woman ever succeeded with him? I’m sure I haven’t!

Nathan tensed. She’s about to spill something disastrous again.

The eavesdroppers sighed. Back when the incident happened, even they hadn’t known the full truth. The rumors had forced Nathan into damage control.

Wait… seriously?

They frowned at Evelyn’s shock.

Nathan’s gut twisted with dread.

No way. Nathan’s still a virgin?! Holy—

Nathan’s soul left his body.

The trio gaped. Virgin?! The man’s dated, married, and flirted with half of Hollywood!

Hahaha!

Nathan’s eyes narrowed, his cheeks flaming. He could only glare as Evelyn’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.

What’s so funny?! This is outrageous!

Not only was she mentally cackling, but her face was contorting from the effort to stay quiet.

Worse—Nathan’s sharp gaze snapped toward the far hallway. Had he just heard… snickering?

The eavesdroppers scrambled back from the door crack.

Okay, we’re busted. This was a private moment they’d never meant to intrude on.

After an awkward pause, curiosity won. They peeked just in time to see Nathan yank Evelyn into the room amid her mental giggles.

Ooh, is something spicy happening?

They crowded the door again, but it was shut tight now, muffling Evelyn’s inner monologue.

Inside, Evelyn’s thoughts had gone silent—only her racing heartbeat filled the space. She stared at Nathan, wide-eyed. "What are you doing?"

Finally free of her mental teasing, Nathan exhaled. "Drafting your power of attorney," he muttered, shooting her a half-hearted glare.

Evelyn beamed, thrilled by his efficiency. Nathan, however, seethed. Even if he’d stopped her from blabbing his secret, her incessant mental commentary was unbearable.

Helpless, he scribbled the agreement, his face still burning.

Unbelievable. A man like Nathan, still untouched? Even if he’s principled, surely his first love counted as innocent? Unless… he can’t perform? Nah, not with those abs—

Thud. The printed agreement slapped onto the desk, cutting off her shameless speculation.

Evelyn pored over the document, oblivious to Nathan’s stormy expression.

With the signed contract secured, Evelyn departed with a spring in her step. She slept like a log until the golden morning sun streamed through her windows, only to be roused by the ping of her bank notification—the final payment had cleared.

A cool million. Exactly as promised.

Descending the stairs, she found Margaret and Sophia deep in conversation with Nathan. The trio glanced up at the sound of her footsteps.

Evelyn hesitated. Did I commit some social faux pas by sleeping in?

Margaret recovered first, offering a warm chuckle. "Sleep is precious, darling. Rest as much as you need—young people keep different hours than us old folks."

Sophia nodded conspiratorially. "I used to sleep till noon at your age."

Nathan shot his mother a skeptical look—he'd seen her sipping coffee at dawn when he woke. Noticing his gaze, Sophia flushed and amended, "Well, occasionally."

Evelyn recognized their kindness for what it was—a deliberate effort to put her at ease.

Margaret summoned a maid to bring Evelyn a light snack. "We're having a ladies' lunch today," she explained. "Richard and Julian are tied up with that unpleasant business regarding Victoria."

Nathan's jaw tightened at the mention. His father rarely handled legal matters personally, but the Lawson affair demanded nothing less.

Evelyn settled onto the sofa.

"Good morning, Aunt Evelyn," Theodore greeted politely, though his fingers twisted the hem of his shirt. The boy still moved through the mansion like a ghost unsure of its welcome.

Margaret and Sophia exchanged pained glances. Their resentment toward Daniel Prescott and Adriana grew by the hour—how dare they make this child feel like an outsider in his own family?

The silence thickened like custard left out too long.

Then Evelyn remembered—Theodore loved puzzles. Rubik's cubes, Legos, model kits. Though Adriana had deemed the latter two "frivolous expenses," refusing to buy them despite the Prescott fortune.

Before she could mention it, Margaret smoothly redirected the conversation. "Did you know, Theo? Your uncles Julian and Nathan were Lego fanatics. We've got crates of them in the attic."

Sophia added, "Would you like to—"

Their words weren't mere placation. That afternoon, not only were the vintage sets brought down, but delivery trucks arrived with enough new kits to stock a toy store.

The sight of Theodore's hesitant smile thawed the lingering frost in the room.

A week later, the storm clouds cleared. Richard had handled everything with surgical precision—the divorce, the police reports, the lawsuits. Every loose end neatly tied.

Yet as Evelyn watched Theodore carefully assemble his first model plane, she couldn't shake the feeling that the real challenges were just beginning.

The private hospital owned by the Prescott family collapsed, leaving Daniel drowning in insurmountable debt. With no way out, he had no choice but to file for bankruptcy.

The entire Prescott family was left destitute, forced to live on the streets. Beatrice tried to make a scene multiple times, but since they were no longer connected by marriage, she couldn’t even get past the security.

Richard made sure no member of the Prescott family would ever get another chance to see Sophia or Theodore again.

Daniel and Adriana were both facing prison time. However, when it was discovered that Adriana was pregnant, Daniel, for once, stepped up. He took full responsibility, ensuring Adriana walked away without charges.

But Adriana wasn’t moved by his sacrifice. Whether it was her shattered hopes for the future or the betrayal she felt from Daniel’s deception, she couldn’t say. With Beatrice too distracted to watch her closely, Adriana lost the child and then disappeared without a trace.

In the end, when disaster struck, every one of them only cared about themselves. When Daniel learned what had happened, he flew into a rage in prison, earning himself an extended sentence.

Within ten days, the Prescott family vanished from the city.

Not long after, Theodore transferred schools and started anew.

Before that, the Blackwood family had thrown a grand reunion banquet to celebrate their reunion with Theodore.

As Evelyn scanned the guest list, she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of regret.

"I only know the names, not the faces. Otherwise, I could check in advance for any juicy gossip to feast on."

High society was always brimming with drama.

The Blackwoods, gathered on the couch discussing the list, suddenly found themselves distracted. It was impossible not to—no one could resist eavesdropping on gossip.

Lately, Evelyn had uncovered quite a few interesting tidbits. She’d even discovered the secret affection the butler held for the housekeeper. Every day, she quietly reveled in their budding romance.

"By the way, will Julian make it? Didn’t they say he was filming in some remote mountain area with no signal?" Richard asked.

Julian, the third son of the Blackwood family, was one of the most sought-after actors in the entertainment industry.

Nathan glanced up. "I got a message from Julian. He just wrapped up filming and promised he’d be back. He also mentioned he has something important to discuss."

At those words, the entire Blackwood family fell silent, their expressions shifting subtly.

Curious, Evelyn glanced around, unable to resist activating her Gossip System.

Ah, so that’s it.

Julian wanted to change the betrothal agreement.

Now that sounded familiar.

He was—

The Blackwood family sat in stunned silence as Evelyn's revelation hung in the air. Currently engaged to Celeste Cowell, the eldest daughter of the prestigious Cowell family, Julian had always shown undeniable affection for her younger sister Isabelle. While Celeste struggled with society's disapproval, Isabelle basked in universal admiration.

This news came as no surprise to the Blackwoods. Julian's behavior over the years had spoken volumes. The progressive family never interfered with their children's romantic choices, though they worried Julian's impulsive nature might complicate matters unnecessarily.

When Evelyn confirmed Julian's intention to switch engagements upon his return, they agreed to address the situation together as a family. Just as the weight of this decision settled upon them, Evelyn released a heavy sigh.

"Love works in mysterious ways," she murmured. "When Julian nearly died as a child, it was Celeste who saved him. Yet destiny played its cruel joke - he fell for her sister instead."

Gasps echoed through the room. The Blackwoods exchanged bewildered glances. Wait—what? Their family records clearly showed Isabelle as Julian's childhood savior, not Celeste.

The grandfather clock's ticking grew louder in the sudden silence. Margaret's teacup clattered against its saucer. Nathan's fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair. Sophia's eyes darted between family members, searching for answers.

A cold realization crept through Evelyn's veins. If their memories contradicted this fundamental truth, what other illusions had they been living under? The foundation of Julian's engagement—of his entire relationship with the Cowell sisters—might rest upon a dangerous misconception.

Outside, storm clouds gathered, mirroring the turmoil within. The truth, when it came, would rewrite more than just one engagement. It threatened to unravel years of carefully constructed relationships and expose secrets better left buried.

For in high society, where reputation meant everything, some truths could destroy lives. And this particular truth involved more than just mistaken identities—it hinted at deliberate deception with consequences none of them could yet fathom.