Chapter 17
As Evelyn's string of complaints reached Nathan's ears, he noticed Julian had frozen mid-step. The younger man looked as if he'd seen a ghost. Nathan immediately grasped the situation.
Before Julian could speak, Nathan intervened, his voice carrying an unspoken weight. "Julian, stay here and help me with the guests." Though not quite a command, the words effortlessly shifted focus from the previous topic.
"Let me assist Isabelle inside first—she's having trouble moving," Julian began, but the disruptive voice cut through again.
Is he dense? Her parents and sister are right there! Since when is it his turn to play knight in shining armor? Evelyn's mental tirade continued. Even if they were dating—which they clearly aren't—Nathan's practically spelling out how inappropriate this is. Is love really making him this obtuse?
Julian stiffened as the invisible barrage of insults hit him. Humiliation and anger flared. He whirled toward Evelyn, teeth clenched. "You—"
"Hmm?" Evelyn blinked, genuinely perplexed.
She assumed Julian was attempting a greeting, albeit with unusual hostility. Their relationship had always been strained—ever since childhood, Julian had idolized Nathan while resenting Evelyn, his brother's wife. Despite sharing the entertainment industry, Julian had never acknowledged her as family, publicly or privately.
Yet he'd never confronted her directly—until now.
"Julian?" Isabelle whispered, confused by his abrupt halt. From her angle, she couldn't see his glare directed at Evelyn, assuming instead he was staring at Celeste beside her.
Her lower lip trembled. "You should stay with Celeste," she said, shoving Julian away with fragile dignity. "I'll manage alone."
Celeste, who'd remained silent, arched a brow. "Mr. Blackwood asked Mr. Julian to assist with the guests. Why am I suddenly involved?"
Isabelle's eyes widened, tears welling instantly as if struck by unbearable injustice.
"What's this attitude?" Edward and Penelope swooped in, shields raised. "Must you always antagonize your sister? We never should've brought you!"
The air crackled with unspoken tensions as the family drama unfolded beneath the glittering chandeliers.
Meanwhile, oblivious to Isabelle’s tearful expression, Julian turned his head and met Evelyn’s icy gaze. Did she just call me Mr. Blackwood? She always used to call me Julian.
A strange discomfort twisted in Julian’s chest, but before he could dwell on it, Evelyn’s sharp voice cut through the tension.
"I can’t stand this any longer. I may not know Celeste well, but this isn’t right."
"Earlier, my husband only asked for Julian to stay. He never mentioned Celeste. Why did you bring her up?" Evelyn’s tone wasn’t accusatory—just curious, laced with a quiet demand for answers. It was a tactic that often worked.
The moment Evelyn posed the question, the room fell into an uneasy silence. A heavy, almost eerie atmosphere settled over the party, and the guests exchanged glances as if seeing the situation in a new light.
Wait, where did that even come from?
It was one thing for Julian to stay behind to entertain guests, but expecting Celeste to do the same? Somehow, in Isabelle’s version, it had twisted into Julian keeping Celeste company. How did that happen?
Edward and Penelope immediately jumped to Isabelle’s defense, sensing Evelyn’s thinly veiled hostility. They opened their mouths to argue, but Nathan unexpectedly spoke first.
"There seems to be a misunderstanding. I only mentioned my brother."
Then he glanced at Evelyn, who looked ready for a fight. A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face when he noticed she had called him husband instead of ex-husband.
Their silent understanding left Isabelle flushed with humiliation, momentarily speechless. She could only stare at Julian with wide, helpless eyes.
Julian, too, was stunned.
"Besides," Evelyn continued smoothly, "your sister was just correcting you earlier. Why are you acting like you’ve been wronged? Having your father scold her in public only makes things worse. As hosts, is there any conflict we can help resolve?" She shifted her gaze from Isabelle to the Cowells.
Isabelle, who had always been poised and confident, faltered. She froze, unable to respond.
The Cowells were equally dumbfounded, struggling to comprehend how the situation had spiraled so quickly.
"Unless you think we’ve been inhospitable?" Nathan added, his voice devoid of emotion.
The Cowells could only stammer, their frustration boiling beneath the surface but unable to find the right words.
The next instant, Evelyn flashed Isabelle a radiant smile, her tone dripping with honeyed concern. "Darling, there's something quite odd about what you just said. What do you mean by letting Julian escort Celeste? Are you implying you can manage alone? You really shouldn’t speak like that."
The crowd around them froze. Was Evelyn subtly acknowledging Julian and Isabelle as a couple on behalf of the Blackwoods? Was she chastising Isabelle for belittling herself?
For a fleeting moment, Isabelle forgot their earlier clash. Her eyes shimmered with hesitant hope as she stared at Evelyn.
Without missing a beat, Evelyn clasped Isabelle’s hands, her voice earnest. "Your parents are right here, alive and well. How could you forget them? And if that’s not enough, your sister stands beside you too! They’d never abandon you to face things alone."
Alone? That’s not what I meant at all.
The spectators exchanged glances, their expressions shifting like sand in the wind.
Finally, someone in the crowd scoffed loudly, "Isn’t she just putting on an act?"
Evelyn patted Isabelle’s shoulder comfortingly. "It’s good that you’ve realized you’re not entirely—"
Hah! This pretentious little thing was painfully transparent. Her words were so illogical they practically invited ridicule. Spoiled rotten, no doubt, thinking she could manipulate everyone. But sorry, sweetheart—Evelyn was a master at dismantling fakes.
She sauntered off, fully aware Nathan would smooth things over.
Just as Isabelle’s eyes welled up with staged tears, Nathan stepped forward, his polite but firm gesture cutting the confrontation short. The Cowells swallowed their fury, ushering a bewildered Isabelle inside.
She looked utterly lost—like a deer caught in headlights.
Once the crowd dispersed, Julian finally snapped. "What was that about? Isabelle is innocent! She just misspoke. Did you have to humiliate her like that?"
This woman, who’d stubbornly clung to marrying my brother, is now considering divorce? Wait—did I hear that right?
Nathan’s lips twitched. Clearing his throat, he interrupted Evelyn’s spiraling thoughts. "Leave the guests to me and Julian. You can go inside."
Evelyn beamed. Perfect. Time to enjoy the show.
As she skipped away, Julian pressed trembling fingers to his temples, shooting Nathan a questioning glare.
Nathan didn’t mince words. Seizing the momentary lull, he laid out Evelyn’s… unique situation.
Julian stood frozen for a solid minute before muttering, "Do we need a family therapist? Scratch that—maybe an exorcist."
Nathan shot him a withering look.
Pouting, Julian leaned in. "So… she actually knows everything?"
Nathan responded coolly, "She'll uncover whatever she desires soon enough."
Marcus scoffed. "What, is she the queen of tabloids now?" His tone dripped with skepticism.
Nathan's eyes darkened briefly before shifting the subject. "You're still set on breaking off the engagement tonight?"
Julian hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, but don't worry. I won't disrupt your son's celebration. I've already spoken to the Cowells—they'll stay behind afterward so we can settle this privately."
Nathan gave a curt nod.
"Nobody will object, right?" Julian asked cautiously.
"Are you sure it's Isabelle you want, not Celeste?" Nathan countered.
The memory of Celeste's piercing gaze flashed through Julian's mind, stirring an uncomfortable tightness in his chest. Yet he forced out, "Obviously. Isabelle is fragile—she needs me. Celeste? She’s bitter, jealous, and cruel to her own sister. I can’t stand that kind of woman."
Even as he spoke, the hollowness of his words gnawed at him, especially when Nathan remained expressionless.
Julian pressed on. "You have no idea what Isabelle’s endured because of their identical faces—"
Nathan cut him off. "Your life, your choice. Just don’t regret it later."
Stung, Julian let out a sharp breath before turning away.
Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the ballroom, his gaze landed on Celeste. Dressed in a sleek black gown, she stood isolated in a corner, swirling her wine glass absently while the crowd buzzed around her.
Then, abruptly, she looked up—directly at him.
Julian jerked his eyes away, his pulse inexplicably racing.
Why? Why did the thought of ending things with her suddenly feel like a mistake?