Chapter 216

Eavesdropping on Scandalous Thoughts

The morning sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse, casting golden streaks across the marble floors. She lounged on her velvet chaise, sipping her matcha latte, when an unexpected wave of thoughts crashed into her mind.

"Oh my god, did you hear? Nathan Blackwood was seen leaving Seraphina Delacroix’s penthouse at 3 AM last night!"

Evelyn nearly choked on her drink. That voice—sharp, gossipy, unmistakably belonging to Lillian Graves, her ever-dramatic assistant. But Lillian wasn’t even in the room.

Then another voice, hushed but dripping with excitement: "I bet Vanessa Sterling is fuming. She’s been trying to claw her way into Nathan’s orbit for months."

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her cup. Since when could she hear people’s private thoughts? And why were they all about him?

A third voice chimed in, this one smug. "Please, Harrison Montgomery’s wife, Natalie, is the real victim here. Rumor has it she’s planning to leak Seraphina’s old scandal to the press as payback."

Evelyn’s pulse spiked. This wasn’t just idle chatter—it was a full-blown celebrity war, and somehow, she’d been thrust into the middle of it.

Her phone buzzed. A text from Preston Whitmore, her director: "Emergency meeting. Studio in 30. Wear something that says ‘I’m above the drama.’"

Too late for that.

Evelyn exhaled sharply, tossing her phone aside. If she could hear these thoughts, who else’s secrets were floating around? And more importantly—could she use them to her advantage?

A slow smirk curled her lips. Hollywood’s elite had no idea what was coming.

In mere moments, whispers spread like wildfire through the crowd. The missing item—a million-dollar birthday gift from Mason to Claire—had become the center of attention.

At the mention of the necklace, both Violet and Mason’s expressions darkened.

Bolstered by Claire’s silent approval, Luna stepped forward, her voice dripping with accusation. "If you’ve got nothing to hide, why not let us check your bag? Something’s not right here."

Mason’s jaw clenched as he shot back, "Are you deaf? I said no. She’s my girlfriend. If she wanted something, I’d give it to her. Why would she steal a damn necklace?"

Violet crossed her arms, her tone icy. "Why am I the first suspect the moment something goes missing? Since when do I have to prove my innocence based on baseless accusations?"

A knot of unease twisted in Violet’s stomach. She knew all too well how Claire and Luna operated—their hostility wasn’t new.

Then, Luna’s sharp gasp cut through the tension. "Wait—this bracelet!" She snatched it off the table, holding it up like evidence. "It matches Claire’s necklace! Whose is this? Yours, isn’t it?"

Violet’s fingers curled into fists. "I just returned it to Mason."

"So it was yours," Luna crowed triumphantly.

Claire’s lips curved into a faux-sympathetic smile. "I remember now. Mason gave me the necklace—and this bracelet was part of the set. Is this the same one?"

The room erupted.

Murmurs swirled into a single, damning verdict: "He gave the main piece to Claire and the cheap match to his girlfriend? No wonder he keeps her hidden. She’s just a placeholder."

The words hit Violet like a slap. Even though she’d ended things with Mason, the humiliation burned fresh. That bracelet—once treasured—now felt like a brand of shame.

Mason stiffened, guilt clawing at his chest. He’d never meant for it to go this far. His gaze darted to Violet, but he couldn’t meet her eyes. Instead, he glared at Claire and Luna, fury simmering beneath the surface.

"If you were upset with Mason, you could’ve just told me," Claire purred, playing the wounded innocent.

"She’s still a thief," Luna snapped. "Probably took the necklace out of spite—thinking he didn’t value her enough."

The air thickened with tension, the unspoken truth hovering just out of reach.

The tension in the room thickened after Violet Carter's bold declaration. Even if she was Mason Hunter's girlfriend, her alleged theft suddenly seemed almost forgivable—or at least, that was the impression she wanted to give.

"Both of you, shut up!" Mason snapped, his temper flaring. But before he could say another word, Liam Bennett and Grace Collins cut him off sharply.

"How dare you speak to Claire like that!" Liam defended Claire Morgan, his tone icy.

Grace, her eyes flashing with disapproval, added, "If your girlfriend took it, just return it. We won’t make a scene about it."

Liam and Grace knew Mason well. His outburst only confirmed their suspicions—he was embarrassed, likely because Violet had stolen something. What else could make him react so defensively? A lovers' quarrel was one thing, but ruining their wine-tasting evening was another.

Violet’s eyes welled with tears. "Dad, Mom, don’t you believe—"

Before she could finish, Luna Morgan lunged forward, snatching Violet’s bag. With practiced ease, she upended it, sending its contents scattering across the floor. Lipsticks, receipts, and a compact mirror tumbled out—and then, with a soft clink, a dazzling necklace landed at their feet.

The room fell silent.

The necklace gleamed under the chandelier, its craftsmanship unmistakably matching the bracelet Claire had been wearing earlier.

Mason stared at it, stunned, before turning to Violet with a mix of confusion and betrayal.

Violet’s breath hitched. She had braced herself for this moment, but panic still clawed at her throat. "It wasn’t me," she insisted, voice trembling. "Someone framed me!" Then, her gaze snapped to Claire. "You did this!"

Murmurs rippled through the crowd. But Violet’s accusation only made her look more desperate. Who would believe Claire would plant her own jewelry just to set Violet up? The idea was absurd.

Claire sighed, feigning hurt. "I don’t blame you for taking the necklace to pick a fight with Mason. But accusing me when you’re caught? That’s low."

Violet’s restraint shattered. "You planted it! You slipped it into my bag when I wasn’t looking—because you—!"

Evelyn Sinclair, watching from the sidelines, nearly bounced on her toes. Yes! Say it! Blow this whole thing wide open! If everything went down in flames, so be it—at least no one would walk away unscathed.

But Violet didn’t finish. Instead, she turned to Mason, her voice breaking. "She framed me. Do you believe me?"

Evelyn groaned internally. No! Why ask him to choose sides now? Weren’t you done playing the lovesick fool?

To everyone else, it looked like a plea for her boyfriend’s trust.

But Nathan Blackwood saw something else entirely.

Violet Carter knew the stakes were high. If she dared expose the scandalous affair between Mason Hunter and Claire Morgan, she needed irrefutable proof. Without it, she’d be crucified—accused of fabricating the connection between the necklace and bracelet just to save her own skin.

But proof? She had none. Unless Mason himself stepped forward and admitted his past with Claire, this could very well be Claire’s elaborate trap.

Yet, if Mason did that, he’d shatter the fragile peace of the Hampton family. And Violet had long stopped trusting him. She wasn’t foolish enough to gamble on his loyalty—not when she couldn’t even vouch for herself.

The incident had happened in the makeup room, a place with no cameras, no witnesses. Even if she screamed her innocence, claiming she’d been framed, it wouldn’t matter. In the court of public opinion, she was already guilty.

The simplest setups were the hardest to escape.

Despair settled over her like a suffocating fog. Her only lifeline? Mason. So she did what she did best—adapted. She turned to him directly, her voice trembling with desperation.

"Do you believe me?"

If he said yes, it meant he doubted Claire’s actions. That alone could save her. But if he didn’t… well, then there was no point in explanations.

Nathan Blackwood watched the scene unfold with detached amusement, his fingers tapping idly on his phone. He already knew the answer.

Mason, however, froze at Violet’s question. His gaze flicked to Claire, who stood there with red-rimmed eyes, her lips quivering as if holding back tears.

The truth? He didn’t know. His resentment toward Claire stemmed from his secrets being exposed—not because he thought her capable of something like this.

Violet was outright accusing Claire of being a criminal. And Mason was torn. The woman he’d once loved couldn’t possibly be a villain in his mind. Instinctively, he wanted to believe Claire.

But he also trusted Violet. There had to be a misunderstanding. Maybe the necklace had fallen in accidentally? Or—his eyes narrowed—maybe it was Luna Morgan’s doing. Yes, Luna. She’d been acting suspiciously from the start.

Instead of answering Violet, he turned on Luna.

"Did you do this?" His voice was sharp, accusatory. "You found the necklace too easily. Were you the one who planted it? You were in the makeup room—it had to be you."

His deflection spoke volumes. He trusted Claire. He trusted Violet. And in doing so, he’d just sealed Violet’s fate.

The moment Mason spoke, not only did Luna throw a tantrum, but Violet let out a sharp, icy laugh. "Fine, let's call the police then. I'd love to prove my innocence to them."

The crowd gasped, stunned by the escalating tension. Was she truly innocent, or just stubbornly refusing to admit guilt?

Daniel cleared his throat, ready to step in. As an officer on duty, he found the situation intriguing.

But Violet’s suggestion was swiftly shut down. Liam and Grace intervened, saying, "There’s no need for the police. We won’t press charges. The necklace has been found—that’s all that matters. Mason, talk some sense into your girlfriend."

Mason hesitated. Dragging family drama into a police station was undignified. Spotting Daniel about to rise, he gripped his shoulder, stopping him. Finally, he turned to Violet with a frustrated sigh. "Enough. I believe you. Let’s drop this. We’ll explain everything to my parents—they’ll believe you too."

Tears welled in Violet’s eyes. "So, everyone here will believe I’m innocent? Can you guarantee that if rumors spread, my reputation won’t be ruined?"

Mason’s expression darkened. "Isn’t my trust enough? I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. But if you keep pushing, can you really prove yourself? Don’t dig your own grave."

His concern was clear—if Violet failed to prove her innocence, she’d be branded a criminal. Better to let it go.

Evelyn watched, disgusted. How noble of you—sacrificing the weakest link for the sake of peace. In your eyes, Violet is disposable. Pathetic. And Daniel—aren’t you a cop? Do something! The rest? All Mason’s friends, bound by family ties and loyalty. No one’s going to betray him for a stranger.

Violet’s tears spilled over.

She knew if this was swept under the rug, her name would be dragged through the mud. No one’s going to help me. A miracle won’t just fall from the sky.

She didn’t know anyone here. Then, an image flashed in her mind—Evelyn, champion of female artists, the woman who’d helped her before.

But doubt crept in. Would Ms. Sinclair even bother? There’s no way out of this.

Evelyn’s heart sank. Her status kept her from intervening—without proof, she was powerless.

She shot Nathan a glance, but asking him to expose his own friend was unfair. Besides, exposure wouldn’t solve anything.

Nathan caught her look. "What’s wrong?"

Evelyn pressed her lips together, irritation simmering.

Nathan's lips curled into a playful smirk as his fingers brushed against Evelyn's chin, tilting her face upward. The sudden contact sent a jolt through her, her breath hitching in surprise.

Evelyn blinked, her heart pounding against her ribs. Is he seriously flirting with me right now?

Nathan hesitated for a split second before his expression softened. With a teasing pinch, he turned her head toward the massive screen at the far end of the room.

The display, which had been looping promotional clips of rare vintage wines, flickered abruptly. A deep, resonant voice filled the space.

"What is this necklace?"

Every head in the room swiveled toward the screen, conversations dying mid-sentence.