Chapter 283

The tension in the penthouse was palpable as Evelyn Sinclair stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, her fingers tightening around the stem of her wine glass. The city lights glittered below, but her mind was far from the view.

Nathan Blackwood watched her from across the room, his dark eyes unreadable. "You're overthinking again," he murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "It's not overthinking when the entire industry is waiting for us to fail."

Victoria Hayes, Nathan's sharp-tongued secretary, chose that moment to stride in, her heels clicking against the marble floor. "The press has caught wind of the merger," she announced, her tone clipped. "They're already spinning it as a desperate move."

Serena Whitmore, Evelyn's ever-loyal agent, scoffed. "Desperate? Please. This is strategic genius."

Nathan's lips curved into a smirk. "Let them talk. By the time we're done, they'll be scrambling to rewrite their narratives."

Evelyn turned to face them, her emerald eyes flashing with determination. "Then we make sure there's no room for doubt. We go bigger than they expect."

Victoria arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "Bigger how?"

A slow, knowing smile spread across Evelyn's face. "We don't just announce the merger. We announce the project that will redefine the industry."

Nathan's gaze locked onto hers, a spark of challenge igniting between them. "You're talking about The Obsidian Crown."

Evelyn nodded. "Exactly. We give them something they can't ignore."

Serena clapped her hands together. "Oh, I love this. The media will lose their minds."

Victoria, ever the skeptic, crossed her arms. "And if it backfires?"

Nathan stepped forward, his presence commanding. "Then we handle it. But it won't."

Evelyn met his gaze, the unspoken understanding between them stronger than ever. They had faced worse—betrayals, scandals, ruthless competitors. This was just another battle.

And they always won.

Lydia's proposal took everyone by surprise—especially Evelyn.

The older woman's suggestion carried profound respect, a gesture so unexpected it made Evelyn's breath catch. Just moments ago, she had been drowning in distress, weighed down by the aftermath of the scandal. Worse still, she suspected Lucas might harbor feelings for her…

But now, with Lydia’s words, it was as if chains had shattered around her. A new path unfurled before her, bright with possibility.

Lydia tilted her head, amusement dancing in her eyes. "So, which will it be? Or do you need more time to decide?"

She owed this woman a debt. Her son had caused pain, and she intended to make amends.

The Blackwoods and the Prescotts didn’t object—though they clearly preferred the stability of a marriage alliance. Subtle glances from the Prescotts nudged Evelyn in that direction.

The onlookers whispered, marveling at how Evelyn had turned disaster into fortune.

Small clusters of guests began placing bets on her choice.

Vivian leaned toward Nathan, mischief glinting in her gaze. "What do you think she’ll pick?"

Nathan shrugged. "No idea."

Vivian’s lips curved. "Let’s make it interesting. You choose one option, I’ll take the other. Whoever wins gets to demand a favor from the loser."

Hah! I already know she’ll pick goddaughter. Victory is mine! Her mind raced with possibilities. What should I make Nathan do?

Nathan didn’t know her scheming thoughts, but his ears burned pink anyway.

"Fine," he said. "I’ll take the marriage alliance."

Vivian nearly squealed. "Perfect! Then I’ll take goddaughter."

Watching her grin like a cat with cream, Nathan couldn’t help but smile. Their tablemates overheard and quickly joined the wager.

Roland frowned. "I wonder what Lucas will think."

"He likes—" Daniel started, but Roland cut him off.

"Don’t joke about that."

Vivian bit her lip to keep from laughing.

His silent devotion had been so carefully concealed that even his closest friends remained unaware. In truth, his restraint was so complete that others began misinterpreting his kindness as mere formality. Poor Lucas. Had his circle known the truth, they might have schemed to unite the pair long ago.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, Beatrice spoke. Hesitation wasn’t in her nature. Before, circumstances had bound her—but now, the choice was hers.

"Mrs. Eleanor, I—"

"Beatrice!" Lucas couldn’t suppress the outburst any longer.

For years, he’d held back out of deference to his aunt’s generosity. But Caleb’s marital blunder was entirely his own making. If Lucas hesitated now, he’d regret it forever. A decade of longing had led to this moment—his chance to fight for the woman who’d unknowingly held his heart.

This was his closest brush with claiming the love he’d nurtured in secret.

As Lucas drew breath to speak, Beatrice’s voice cut through the tension. "My decision is made."

Her frosty tone froze him mid-sentence, though he hadn’t even posed the question.

She understood.

And she’d chosen.

He had no right to object.

Their eyes met, and in that instant, he knew.

Lucas fell silent, his devastation more profound than when he’d been framed months prior. The light drained from his expression, leaving hollow resignation.

The exchange was too direct to suggest hidden meanings. The gathered guests merely buzzed with curiosity—what path would the renowned jewelry designer select?

Eleanor herself seemed startled by Beatrice’s swift resolution.

"I wish to become your goddaughter," Beatrice declared without preamble.

Gasps rippled through the room.

Every soul present had expected her to choose marriage. Their years of friendship, their matching intellects and temperaments—where would Beatrice find a more suitable match than Lucas Thornton?

The Blackwoods mourned the lost opportunity, yet respected her autonomy. The smaller faction remained oblivious, still convinced no romance existed between the pair.

Across the room, Evelyn’s lips curved in triumph as she locked eyes with Nathan.

"Congratulations," Nathan murmured, amusement dancing in his gaze. "Name your prize."

Evelyn tapped a finger against her champagne flute. "I’ll collect when inspiration strikes."

The hum of speculation crescendoed as Lucas turned toward the terrace, his broad shoulders rigid with unspoken grief. Beatrice watched him go, her expression unreadable.

Eleanor reached for her hand. "Are you certain, my dear?"

The question hung between them—not just about goddaughters or weddings, but about the life Beatrice was choosing to walk away from.

Beatrice’s answer came swift as a blade.

"Some paths aren’t meant to intertwine."

And with those words, the gilded doors of possibility slammed shut.

"Alright."

Formalizing an adoptive relationship required more than a casual agreement. They needed to select an auspicious date for the ceremony.

Once the arrangements were settled, Lydia turned her attention to the three troublemakers.

"Caleb, do you understand what you've done wrong?"

Caleb's face darkened as he watched how warmly his adversaries were being treated. He shot up from his seat. "Admit my mistake? You're treating Lucas like your own son and Beatrice like your goddaughter, but you won't even look at me! How generous of you. Huh? You turn a blind eye to everything I’ve endured, and now you think I’m beneath you. Fine. I don’t need you anymore. Today, I’m cutting all ties with you. Go ahead—be their mother!"

His father, startled, leaped to his feet. "How dare you speak to your mother like that? You’re in the wrong. Apologize now!"

"Are you threatening me?" Lydia’s heart ached at her son’s venomous words, but she kept her composure, her expression unreadable.

Caleb was furious, his pride refusing to bend. He wanted to challenge her, to see who would break first.

"If this is truly your decision, I won’t stop you," Lydia said calmly. She wasn’t one to be intimidated. The moment she learned of Caleb’s downfall, she knew drastic measures were necessary.

Deep down, she still hoped to save him. By severing their ties and cutting off his financial support, she prayed hardship would force him to grow. For his sake, she was willing to make this painful choice.

"You—you—" Caleb hadn’t expected her to agree. His vision blurred with rage, his legs nearly giving out beneath him.

"How cruel can you be?" Luna snapped, unable to hide her resentment. "Are you even his real mother?"

Her words drew muffled laughter from the onlookers.

Surprisingly, everyone seemed to share the same thought.