Chapter 25

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she sipped her coffee, the warmth of the mug seeping into her fingers. She had barely slept, her mind still reeling from the confrontation with Victoria Hayes yesterday. The woman’s sharp words had left invisible cuts, but Evelyn refused to let them fester.

A sharp knock at the door startled her.

Frowning, she set her cup down and padded across the marble floor. Through the peephole, she saw Nathan Blackwood standing there, his dark hair slightly disheveled, as if he had rushed over.

Her breath hitched.

She hadn’t expected him—not after their last argument, not after the way he had walked out without looking back.

Evelyn hesitated, then pulled the door open.

Nathan’s piercing gaze locked onto hers, his expression unreadable. "We need to talk."

Her pulse quickened. "About what?"

"About us," he said, stepping forward, his presence filling the doorway. "About what you said to Victoria."

Evelyn crossed her arms. "If you're here to defend her—"

"I'm not." His voice was firm, cutting her off. "But I need to know—did you mean it?"

She swallowed. "Mean what?"

"That you still love me."

The air between them thickened, charged with unspoken emotions. Evelyn’s heart hammered against her ribs. She hadn’t planned for this. Hadn’t planned for him to show up and demand answers she wasn’t sure she was ready to give.

Before she could respond, Nathan took another step closer, his fingers brushing against her wrist. "Because I never stopped loving you, Evelyn. Not for a second."

Her breath caught.

Then, from behind him, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

"Well, isn’t this touching?"

Evelyn’s stomach dropped as Victoria Hayes stepped into view, her crimson lips curled into a smirk.

Nathan stiffened. "What are you doing here?"

Victoria’s gaze flickered between them, her smile sharp. "Oh, I just thought I’d drop by and see how my favorite exes were doing." She tilted her head. "But it looks like I interrupted something… interesting."

Evelyn’s fingers curled into fists.

This wasn’t a coincidence.

Victoria had planned this.

And now, whatever fragile moment she and Nathan had shared—was gone.

The game had just gotten more dangerous.

The grand ballroom glittered under crystal chandeliers as Evelyn Sinclair adjusted her emerald-green gown. Across the crowded space, Nathan Blackwood stood like a storm cloud in his tailored tuxedo, his piercing gaze locked onto her. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Victoria Hayes materialized at Evelyn's elbow, her crimson lips curling. "Darling, you look positively desperate," she purred, swirling champagne. "Though I suppose that's understandable, given tonight's... revelations."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her clutch. "Whatever game you're playing, Victoria—"

"Oh, but the game's already over." Victoria's laugh tinkled like broken glass. "Did you truly think Nathan would choose a nobody over family legacy?"

A sudden hush fell as Margaret Blackwood ascended the podium, her silver-streaked hair gleaming. "Ladies and gentlemen," she announced, "the Blackwood Foundation is proud to announce—"

Nathan's voice cut through like thunder. "Mother."

Every head swiveled as he strode forward, his jaw set. "There's been a change in tonight's program." He extended a hand toward Evelyn. "Come here, darling."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Victoria's champagne flute shattered on the marble floor.

"You see," Nathan continued, pulling Evelyn against him, "Ms. Sinclair isn't just our newest philanthropist. She's my fiancée."

Evelyn's breath caught as he produced a velvet box. The diamond inside winked under the lights, its intricate filigree unmistakable—the Blackwood heirloom ring last worn by Nathan's grandmother.

Margaret's face drained of color. "You wouldn't."

"I did." Nathan slid the ring onto Evelyn's finger. "Three weeks ago, in fact."

A commotion erupted near the entrance. Sophia Blackwood burst through, dragging a weeping Adriana Prescott by the wrist. "Brother! Tell them what Daniel's been—" She froze, spotting Evelyn's hand. "Oh. Well. This complicates things."

Lillian Graves chose that moment to stumble in, clutching a manila envelope. "Evelyn! The lab results—" She blanched at the scene. "I'll just... leave this here."

The envelope slid across the floor, spilling its contents—DNA test results bearing the Blackwood crest. Nathan's eyes locked onto one particular page, his expression turning glacial.

"Interesting timing," he murmured, lifting the document. "It seems my father had another child no one knew about." His gaze found Evelyn's. "And she's standing right beside me."

Victoria's scream shattered the silence as Evelyn's knees buckled. The last thing she saw before darkness claimed her was Nathan's arms reaching out, his voice ragged with emotion:

"Welcome to the family, sister."

A suffocating silence engulfed the grand hall. The guests had gorged themselves on revelation after shocking revelation, leaving them breathless.

By severing ties with the Cowell family and calling off her engagement, Celeste was effectively cutting all bridges.

Society had grown accustomed to illegitimate children clawing their way into elite circles. But a privileged young woman voluntarily relinquishing her status? That was unheard of.

The sheer determination behind Celeste's words sent shivers down spines.

Yet given the Cowell family's track record, who knew what schemes they might have dragged her into had she stayed?

"Y-You ungrateful child!" Edward sputtered, veins bulging at his temples.

Tears streamed down Penelope's face. "After everything we've done for you, Celeste! Is this how you repay us?"

"You gave birth to me, but you never raised me." Celeste's voice was ice. "If I'd had a choice, I'd have chosen different parents. At least then I wouldn't have been groomed as Isabelle's personal stepping stone."

The Cowell patriarch and matriarch gaped at their daughter as if seeing her for the first time.

"Stop this madness!" Isabelle suddenly lunged forward, her manicured nails digging into Celeste's wrist hard enough to leave crescent marks. "Even if you're angry, you can't say such horrible things! Do you want to give our parents heart attacks?"

Isabelle's pallor matched her ivory gown as she clung to Celeste like a drowning woman. "Listen," she choked out, "if you don't want to marry Vincent, fine. Break up if you must. But must you create such a spectacle? I admit I was wrong before—taking things that were yours. I understand your resentment, especially since you're fond of Julian and don't want to end the engagement. But can't we discuss this privately?"

Classic Isabelle. Even cornered, she fought dirty. Had Celeste really indulged them so much that they believed she'd back down now?

"Are you deaf, Isabelle? I've proven my innocence. Now it's your turn." Celeste wrenched free with a sharp twist.

Isabelle's face contorted grotesquely. "How dare you demand that of a Cowell heiress!" she shrieked, eyes wild. "Are you trying to kill our parents with grief? Or is this your twisted way of humiliating me? I'm innocent! I don't even know him! If you push me further, I'll—"

With dramatic flourish, Isabelle grabbed crab scissors from the buffet and pressed them to her throat. "My blood will prove my innocence!"

Gasps erupted.

Edward and Penelope descended into hysterics.

"Look what you've done!" Penelope wailed, striking Celeste's shoulder. "Are you trying to murder your sister?"

Edward turned purple with rage. "Happy now? Is this what you wanted? Apologize to Isabelle immediately! We all know it was you with Vincent—why can't you admit it? Must you drive your sister to suicide?"

Celeste's bitter laugh cut through the chaos.

Always the same script. No matter how much pain she endured, Isabelle's theatrics erased everything. The golden child could never be at fault.

Why? Why was she always the sacrificial lamb?

The suffocating injustice stole her voice.

As guests recoiled in shock, the Blackwoods' expressions darkened. Then—

CRACK!

A silver tray connected with Isabelle's head, sending her sprawling. The scissors clattered across marble.

All eyes swiveled to Evelyn Sinclair, who calmly set down her impromptu weapon.

"Thank heavens I anticipated her little performance," Evelyn drawled. "Playing victim? Shifting blame? Emotional blackmail? Please. Celeste finally breaks free, and this viper tries to drag her back? Over my dead body."

Had Isabelle drawn even a drop of blood, Celeste would've borne the stigma forever—the cruel sister who drove her twin to suicide.

Nathan Blackwood signaled sharply. Security swarmed in, pinning the dazed Isabelle.

"Unhand her!" Edward roared.

Nathan's smile was arctic. "Given your daughter's... instability, we're ensuring everyone's safety until your departure."

The crowd exhaled collectively, praising Evelyn's quick thinking.

Isabelle thrashed against her restraints. "Julian! Help me!"

But Julian's gaze remained fixed on Celeste, who stood motionless, staring at the fallen scissors with unsettling intensity.

Vincent chuckled darkly. "At least I never impersonated anyone to manipulate feelings. Or threatened suicide when caught." He produced his phone with a flourish. "Shall we compare more... intimate photos? Surely you twins aren't identical everywhere?"

The threat sent horrified whispers through the crowd.

"Liar!" Isabelle screamed.

Celeste remained eerily still. The contrast was damning.

Realization drained the color from Isabelle's face.

"Got you." Vincent smirked. Turning to Celeste, he added, "My apologies. Your sister fooled me too."

"It wasn't me!" Isabelle's shrieks turned feral. "Julian, look at me! Mom! Dad! Tell them it was Celeste!"

When no one moved, she snarled at Celeste, "Just take the blame like always! Haven't you done it a hundred times before?"

Celeste tilted her head. "Why would I?"

The quiet question hung like a guillotine.

Pitying glances turned toward Celeste while disgusted ones raked over Isabelle—and her parents.

One could almost see them in a hospital nursery years ago, blaming infant Celeste for "stealing nutrients" from her sickly twin. Some patterns never changed.

Edward and Penelope looked shell-shocked. Their perfect daughter's venomous core had been exposed.

Celeste's laugh was hollow. "All those times you 'defended' me... you were actually feeding the rumors, weren't you? You don't just want their love—you want me destroyed."

Isabelle might not even love Julian. Stealing him was simply another way to obliterate Celeste.

Isabelle trembled with rage. "If you don't confess, you'll regret it!"

Evelyn's scoff echoed the room's sentiment. What kind of monster had the Cowells raised?

Then—

"Never again."

Celeste snatched up the scissors and slashed toward her own face.

A hand intercepted the blade.

Julian stood before her, blood dripping from his palm where the scissors had bitten deep.

(Evelyn had seen Celeste's intention and gasped—giving Julian that crucial second to react.)

Celeste stared blankly at Julian's bleeding hand. "Let go," she whispered. "I'm done being her scapegoat. Done having my life stolen. If disfiguring myself is the only way out, so be it."

Her voice broke on the last word, the sound of a soul pushed beyond endurance.