Chapter 263

Mind Games and Whispered Secrets

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's luxurious penthouse as she sipped her coffee, scrolling through her phone. A slow smirk curled her lips.

Oh, this is delicious.

Her mind-reading ability—her best-kept secret—had just tuned into the most scandalous thoughts from none other than Victoria Hayes, Nathan Blackwood’s scheming secretary.

"If only Nathan would finally see me as more than just an assistant…" Victoria’s inner monologue dripped with desperation. "That Evelyn doesn’t deserve him. I could make him so much happier."

Evelyn nearly choked on her latte. Oh, sweetheart, you wish.

She leaned back, amusement dancing in her eyes. Victoria’s fantasies were laughably transparent—flimsy daydreams of stolen glances and whispered confessions in Nathan’s office. But then…

"Maybe if Evelyn had an… accident…"

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her cup.

Oh, it’s on now.

She set her coffee down with deliberate calm. If Victoria wanted to play dirty, Evelyn would show her exactly how the game was won.

Her phone buzzed—a message from her agent, Serena Whitmore.

"Emergency meeting at Blackwood Media. Drama with the Montgomery account. Get here ASAP."

Evelyn’s smirk returned. Perfect timing. She’d deal with Victoria later.

But as she grabbed her coat, another thought slithered into her mind—this time from Nathan himself.

"I need to tell Evelyn the truth… before it’s too late."

Her breath hitched.

Truth? What truth?

The elevator doors closed before she could dig deeper.

And just like that, the day’s gossip turned deadly serious.

Evelyn met Nathan's gaze, his stormy gray eyes pulling her into their mesmerizing depths. An electric current of unspoken desire crackled between them, making the air thick with tension.

Evelyn stared at the impossibly handsome face mere inches from hers, her pulse racing like a wild stallion. Her gaze dropped to his slightly parted lips—soft, inviting, dangerously tempting. Without thinking, she swallowed hard.

Too close. If I lean forward just a little...

Nathan suddenly snapped out of his daze, realizing how dangerously close he was to crossing a line. No. I can't. Not unless Evelyn wants this too. To him, she held all the power—she could do anything to him, but he refused to take what wasn’t freely given.

What’s he thinking? Is he going to kiss me? Should I stop him... or not? Evelyn’s thoughts spiraled. If I tilt my head up now, our lips would—

Nathan exhaled sharply, his breath uneven.

Yet, despite the charged moment, neither dared to close that final gap. Both were prisoners of their own hesitation, drowning in what-ifs.

"Y-You okay?" Evelyn stammered, cheeks burning. "Did I... do something?"

Nathan’s lips twitched. Couldn’t my wife be a little bolder? But then again, he was no better.

"It’s nothing," he murmured, voice rough with restraint. "It’s late. We should rest." His body thrummed with need, but he refused to let it show—not when Evelyn might pull away.

Relieved he wasn’t pressing further, Evelyn quickly lay down with a soft "Mhm." Yet, the moment she settled, she instinctively turned and curled into Nathan’s side, her arm draping over his chest.

It felt right.

And since he hadn’t objected, she took it as permission.

Nathan switched off the lamp, plunging the room into shadows, though moonlight still painted faint outlines across the sheets.

Evelyn blinked up at him, her eyes luminous in the dim light.

"Close your eyes," he whispered.

She opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Nathan leaned in and pressed a featherlight kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight," he murmured, his voice a velvet caress.

Evelyn’s heart swelled.

"Goodnight," she whispered back.

They slept soundly, wrapped in warmth and quiet contentment.

Meanwhile, across the city, Vivian Moore and Gwendolyn Brooks were having a very different kind of night—one filled with restless pacing and bitter regrets.

The air between Vivian and Gwendolyn crackled with unspoken emotions as they sat across from each other, two sisters reunited after years of separation. The weight of their shared past hung heavy in the silence, demanding to be addressed.

Vivian didn’t hold back. She laid bare the ugly truth of their fractured family, her voice steady but laced with bitterness.

"Back then, our parents married for love," she began, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup. "But our grandparents never approved. The difference in their social status was too great. So, they eloped. I was born soon after, and our grandparents had no choice but to accept the marriage—but only on one condition."

Gwendolyn leaned forward, her eyes wide. "What condition?"

Vivian’s lips twisted into a humorless smile. "Our father had to prove himself. He worked day and night, barely sleeping, just to meet their impossible expectations. And our mother? She couldn’t handle the loneliness. She couldn’t stand that he never had time for her. So, she ran back to her first love."

A sharp inhale from Gwendolyn.

Vivian continued, her voice dropping to a whisper. "When our father found out, she didn’t even hesitate. She packed her things and left—but not before making sure I wouldn’t slow her down."

With trembling hands, Vivian lifted the hem of her blouse, revealing a jagged scar along her waist. Gwendolyn gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"She pushed me down the stairs," Vivian said flatly. "I was just a child. The fall shattered my hip. This scar? It’s from the surgery that put me back together."

Gwendolyn’s eyes welled with tears, her breath hitching. She reached out, but Vivian pulled away, tucking the scar back beneath her clothes.

"You don’t have anything to say?" Vivian challenged, her voice brittle. "Even after hearing all this, you don’t doubt her?"

Gwendolyn swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to her lap. "I… I remember bits and pieces from when I was little. Maybe it’s karma, but their life after that was miserable. Always fighting. Always broke. She drank too much, and when she did, she’d cry about regrets." Hesitating, she rolled up her sleeve, revealing a faded scar of her own. "One night, she threw a wine bottle at me. Said if it weren’t for me—if it weren’t for the lies our father told—she could have gone back."

Vivian’s hands clenched into fists. "Back to him?"

Gwendolyn nodded.

"Disgusting," Vivian spat. "She had two daughters, and she couldn’t even love one of us properly. She was nothing but a selfish coward."

Gwendolyn flinched but didn’t argue. After all, their mother was long gone. There was no one left to defend.

The silence stretched between them, thick with pain and resentment.

Then, softly, Gwendolyn whispered, "Do you think we’ll ever stop hating her?"

Vivian’s answer was immediate. "No. And I don’t want to."

Because some scars never fade.

Unable to resist, Vivian embraced Gwendolyn.

"Sorry, Vivian." Gwendolyn murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Vivian immediately scoffed. "What kind of nonsense is that? The one who wronged me was that woman—what does any of this have to do with you? We're both just unlucky, stuck with the same wretched birth mother."

Gwendolyn let out a soft laugh. "At least she gave me an incredible sister."

For so long, she had believed herself utterly alone in this world. Then, out of nowhere, fate had handed her a sister like Vivian—strong, brilliant, and fiercely protective. It still felt surreal, like something out of a dream.

Vivian smirked. "True. The only decent thing she ever did was leave me with you."

Just then, the phone in Vivian’s hotel suite rang. Few people knew how to reach her here, which meant it was likely someone who had tried her cell first and failed.

Vivian stood, stretching lazily. "Probably my parents. They must’ve just woken up over there. I bet the news gave them quite the morning shock."

Gwendolyn tensed, her expression flickering with unease. She couldn’t help but dread facing Wren. In her mind, that man would surely despise her very existence.

Vivian caught the shift in her mood instantly. "Relax," she said, waving a hand dismissively. "You’re connected to me, not them."

"But revealing our relationship could damage the Graham family’s reputation," Gwendolyn argued quietly. Having been exposed to Grayson’s world, she understood these things all too well.

Vivian laughed. "When I got the DNA results, I already told them everything. Their exact words? ‘Your life, your rules.’"

With that, she picked up the phone. Sure enough, Wren’s deep, displeased voice rumbled through the line, layered with Grace’s softer, soothing murmurs in the background.

Vivian stuck out her tongue playfully at Gwendolyn before launching into her defense. "What’s the big deal? You said I could handle things my way."

"You never mentioned you’d be causing an international scandal!" Wren snapped. "If you’re so capable, clean up this mess yourself!"

Gwendolyn bit her lip, but Vivian just grinned, unfazed, and launched into placating her father.

Not once did Wren bring up Gwendolyn.

The truth was, Wren and Vivian had long since healed from their wounds, thanks to Grace’s unwavering love. But as far as Wren was concerned, the child that woman had borne outside their family was none of his concern. Still, he didn’t stop Vivian from doing as she pleased.

Meanwhile, Grace quietly asked after Gwendolyn’s well-being, and Vivian filled her in on the details. Grace’s heart ached for the girl, and her concern was genuine.

"She's with me—we're forming an unbreakable sisterly bond. Don't worry, I'll protect her. No one dares mess with my little sister," Vivian teased, her laughter light and infectious. Then, with a mischievous glint in her eyes, she turned to her mother. "Mom, now that I have a sister, when are you going to give me a baby brother?"

"What kind of nonsense are you spouting, child!" her mother scolded, though her lips twitched with suppressed amusement.

Vivian grinned, undeterred. "Did I say something wrong? All I meant was, now that I have Gwendolyn, you don’t need to worry about me being lonely anymore. So, please—give me a little brother!" Her laughter rang out again, bright and carefree.

Gwendolyn felt warmth spread through her chest. The way Vivian and her family embraced her so effortlessly made her heart swell. She hadn’t expected such open acceptance, but here she was, caught up in their laughter, their teasing, their love.

If they really did have a baby brother one day—even if he wasn’t related to her by blood—she knew she’d adore him just as fiercely.