Chapter 33

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she sipped her coffee, the warmth barely touching the chill in her chest. Last night’s argument with Nathan Blackwood still echoed in her mind—his sharp words, the way his storm-gray eyes had darkened with frustration.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant: "Meeting with Preston Whitmore moved to 11 AM. He wants to discuss the script changes before lunch."

Evelyn sighed. The director had been relentless about tweaking her character’s arc, insisting on more "emotional depth." As if she hadn’t poured her soul into the role already.

Before she could reply, another notification flashed—Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s sharp-tongued secretary.

"Mr. Blackwood requests your presence at the office. Urgent."

Her grip tightened around the phone. Urgent? After the way he’d dismissed her concerns last night?

Nathan’s office was as immaculate as ever, the scent of leather and sandalwood lingering in the air. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad shoulders tense beneath his tailored suit.

"You wanted to see me?" Evelyn kept her voice cool, though her pulse betrayed her.

He turned, his gaze piercing. "We need to talk about the press leak."

Her stomach dropped. "What leak?"

"The one where someone told the media about our relationship." His jaw clenched. "Care to explain?"

Evelyn’s breath hitched. "You think I did this?"

"Who else would benefit from the publicity?"

The accusation stung. She stepped closer, her heels clicking against the marble. "If I wanted attention, Nathan, I wouldn’t have kept us a secret for months."

A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but Victoria chose that moment to stride in, her crimson lips curled in a smirk. "Mr. Blackwood, the board is waiting."

Evelyn’s eyes narrowed. Convenient timing.

Nathan exhaled sharply. "This isn’t over."

As he walked out, Victoria lingered, her voice a venomous whisper. "He’ll see through you eventually, darling."

Evelyn smiled sweetly. "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."

Outside, the city buzzed with life, but Evelyn barely noticed. Her phone rang—Serena Whitmore, her agent.

"Evelyn, turn on Channel 7. Now."

The screen flashed to a paparazzi shot of her and Nathan leaving a restaurant last week, the headline screaming:

"Blackwood’s New Muse: Is Love in the Script?"

Her stomach twisted. Someone had set her up.

And she had a very good guess who.

To avoid being discovered, Julian tapped into his acting skills, effortlessly boosting his charm by proposing a late-night gaming session and supper with two male researchers.

Celeste, of course, declined and retreated to her room alone.

The others exchanged knowing glances. It was obvious Julian was just looking for an excuse to spend more time with Celeste.

With the main leads gone, everyone else prepared to return to their own rooms.

Surprisingly, Julian actually intended to treat them all to supper.

The trio of researchers was taken aback and initially tried to politely refuse.

Julian insisted, "I should’ve treated you all to a meal a long time ago."

Years ago, he had failed in his duties as a fiancé, but now he wanted to make up for it by treating Celeste’s friends. Too little, too late.

With nowhere else to go, Evelyn couldn’t resist adding a sarcastic remark under her breath.

Julian’s smile stiffened at the thought.

The researchers felt awkward too. Celeste’s retreat to her room made it clear she wanted nothing to do with Julian personally. Though they thought the two were a perfect match, they respected boundaries and didn’t want to pressure her.

They could be kind, but they wouldn’t guilt-trip anyone.

Seeing their hesitation, Julian smoothly shifted the topic. "Actually, I wanted to get to know your team better—so I can invest wisely and pay attention to the finer details in the future."

Even if it was just an excuse, refusing now would risk offending their benefactor.

And so, swept up in the moment, they all ended up in the researchers’ room for supper.

Julian ordered an extravagant feast, instantly dissolving any lingering tension. He even indulged them with autographs and photos. Even if they weren’t fans, he was still a top-tier celebrity—posting about this would rack up insane likes on social media.

Before long, Julian contacted Marcus to arrange two rooms on the same floor.

Cleverly, he chose the one directly across from Celeste’s.

Marcus and Lillian arrived soon after, smoothly covering for him.

However, once Marcus pulled Julian aside for a private chat, it became clear the issue was Isabelle. Julian wanted nothing to do with her anymore.

With Julian’s stance now firm, Marcus loosened up and cut off all resources previously allocated to Isabelle.

Meanwhile, Evelyn and Lillian enjoyed skewers together. Julian approached them and whispered, "Later, come with me to bring food to Celeste."

Is he using me as a buffer because he’s too scared to go alone?

Evelyn refused outright.

She had never considered playing matchmaker for Julian and Celeste.

Julian gritted his teeth. "I just transferred a million—freshly wired."

Evelyn stood her ground. "A deal’s a deal. This is a separate price."

Julian choked, staring at this shamelessly greedy woman who had just taken his money. She had conned him before—how could she have no guilt?

In the end, he had no choice but to transfer more.

He muttered, "If this keeps up, I’ll develop a reflex."

Every time he asked for help, he’d have to pay.

Evelyn smiled as she accepted the money.

As expected, he’s turning over a new leaf! But is he stupid? Anyone else here would be a better buffer for delivering food. Yet he chose me. Is this his way of giving me front-row seats to the drama? I’ve never met someone so eager to throw money around. Hah, my opinion of Julian is really improving.

Julian heard her inner monologue and felt numb. Why did I pick Evelyn? Did I actually consider her family ties?

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Forget it. At least I’ll have company.

He carefully selected food for Celeste. Evelyn suggested, "The grilled eggplant is great."

"She doesn’t eat eggplant."

Evelyn blinked. "You still remember her preferences?"

"Yeah." Julian replied casually.

Evelyn was surprised. Given how distant he had been from Celeste before, she had assumed he only remembered things about Isabelle.

They reached Celeste’s door, and Julian knocked.

A moment later, Celeste’s cool voice came from inside. "Who is it?"

Julian answered, "It’s me and Evelyn. We brought you supper."

Silence.

Clearly, Celeste was hesitating. Finally, the door opened.

If Evelyn hadn’t exposed Vivienne and Dominic, Celeste would still be in the dark. She had wanted to thank Evelyn, but Julian’s constant presence had made it impossible. Now was her chance.

Evelyn continued, "When you first advised her to break up and she agreed but then went back, you should’ve realized she doesn’t take advice. Some people just want validation, not guidance. When you meet someone like that, step back. Respect their choices, or you’ll end up hurt because of them."

Julian was taken aback, even impressed by Evelyn’s sudden wisdom. Did gaining the ability to see through people enlighten her?

Celeste’s expression remained icy. "Thanks for the food. Goodnight."

She moved to close the door.

"Wait!" Julian instinctively reached out.

A muffled grunt escaped him as his hand got caught in the door.

Startled, Celeste released the handle.

But before she could shut it again, Julian had already braced his arm against the door, refusing to let her.

"Celeste, we need to talk!" His voice was urgent, his gaze intense.

Celeste felt suffocated under the weight of his presence. His aura pressed down on her, making her skin prickle with discomfort.

She frowned, meeting his eyes with frosty indifference—enough to unsettle him. Yet he stubbornly held his ground.

Oh, persistence won’t work on Celeste. How clueless.

Julian stiffened. How am I still hearing Evelyn’s thoughts? Didn’t she leave?

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the neighboring door slightly ajar—multiple shadows visible through the gap.

They’re eavesdropping.

His face burned. He was used to respect, to pride—never humiliation. But now, he had no choice but to push forward. He couldn’t afford to lose this chance.

Just as he was about to speak, Evelyn’s commentary floated over.

This won’t work.

Julian nearly choked. I haven’t even started! Don’t jinx it!

Being humble isn’t enough to erase the past. Celeste is waiting for him to say the right thing—to end it properly. If he messes this up, he’s .

Julian paled as he took in Celeste’s icy expression. He knew it wouldn’t be easy—but he hadn’t expected it to feel nearly hopeless.

It was like a death row inmate’s final plea before sentencing. His throat tightened with nerves.

But he couldn’t back down. He still owed Celeste three sentences.