Chapter 35

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she paced the marble floors, her phone pressed tightly to her ear. "Victoria, I need those contracts reviewed by noon," she demanded, her voice sharp with urgency.

On the other end, Victoria Hayes sighed, flipping through the thick stack of papers on her desk. "I'm working on it, Evelyn. But these clauses are—"

"I don't care about the clauses," Evelyn interrupted, her fingers tightening around her phone. "Just get it done."

She ended the call abruptly, tossing the device onto the plush velvet couch. The weight of the upcoming merger pressed heavily on her shoulders, but failure wasn’t an option. Not when Nathan Blackwood was watching her every move.

Speaking of the devil…

Her phone buzzed again, Nathan’s name flashing on the screen. She hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering. "Nathan."

"Evelyn," his deep voice resonated through the line, sending an involuntary shiver down her spine. "We need to talk. In person."

Her grip on the phone tightened. "About?"

"The merger. And other things." There was an edge to his tone, something unreadable that made her pulse quicken.

"Fine. Your office in an hour."

"Make it thirty minutes." The line went dead before she could protest.

Evelyn exhaled sharply, running a hand through her dark waves. Nathan always had a way of throwing her off balance, and she hated it. Hated how his presence alone could unravel her carefully constructed composure.

She grabbed her blazer from the back of a chair, slipping it on as she headed for the door. The elevator ride down to the lobby was agonizingly slow, her mind racing with possibilities. What did he want to discuss? The merger was straightforward—at least, it should have been. But with Nathan, nothing was ever simple.

Her driver, Marcus, held the car door open as she slid into the backseat. "Blackwood Enterprises, please. And step on it."

The city blurred past the tinted windows as the car sped through the streets. Evelyn’s fingers drummed restlessly against her thigh, her thoughts a tangled mess.

When they arrived, she didn’t wait for Marcus to open her door. She strode into the sleek, glass-and-steel building, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floors. The receptionist barely had time to greet her before Evelyn was marching toward the private elevator, swiping her access card with practiced ease.

The doors slid open to reveal Nathan’s office—spacious, immaculate, and suffocatingly familiar. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad silhouette framed against the skyline.

"You’re early," he remarked without turning around.

Evelyn crossed her arms. "Cut the small talk, Nathan. What’s this about?"

Finally, he faced her, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "Sit down."

"I’d rather stand."

A flicker of amusement crossed his features before his expression hardened again. "Suit yourself." He moved to his desk, retrieving a folder and sliding it toward her. "Take a look."

Evelyn hesitated before stepping forward, flipping open the folder. Her breath caught as she scanned the contents—financial discrepancies, unauthorized transactions, all traced back to someone within her company.

Her head snapped up. "What is this?"

"Evidence," Nathan said coolly. "Someone’s sabotaging the merger from your side."

Her mind reeled. "That’s impossible. My team is vetted—"

"Everyone has a price, Evelyn." His voice was low, dangerous. "Even people you trust."

A cold knot formed in her stomach. If this was true…

She met his gaze, her voice steady despite the storm inside her. "Who?"

Nathan’s lips curved into a humorless smile. "That’s what we’re going to find out."

The air between them crackled with tension, unspoken words hanging heavy. Evelyn knew one thing for certain—this was far from over.

And the real game had just begun.

The hallway froze into stunned silence. Whether peeking through cracked doors or shamelessly eavesdropping, every resident was rendered speechless by Julian Blackwood's outburst.

At first, the crowd dismissed it as a desperate lie—just Julian trying to salvage his dignity after Isabelle's brazen ambush. After all, how could someone like him, Hollywood's golden boy with a reputation for charm, still be... untouched? Even Celeste had assumed he and Isabelle had crossed that line ages ago. Their constant alone time had fueled enough rumors for her parents to gently suggest she "accept reality."

So when Julian blurted out that confession, credibility wasn't exactly on his side.

Realizing his slip, Julian's face burned crimson. He wanted the floor to swallow him whole. But Celeste's skeptical stare sent panic surging through him. This isn’t just about pride anymore—if she doesn’t believe me, she might think I’m hiding some... condition!

Dignity be damned. Ignoring Isabelle’s venomous glare from the floor, he lunged toward Celeste—only to trip spectacularly, skidding to his knees at her doorstep.

Celeste instinctively reached to help, but Julian seized her wrists before she could retreat. His gaze burned with frantic sincerity. "We were engaged back then! You think I’d betray you with her? I swear on my life, I’ve never—never—been with anyone! No diseases, no lies—just you! Believe me!"

The hallway collectively gaped. Holy hell. He’s kneeling while saying this. Either he’s Oscar-worthy, or... The image of Julian Blackwood, A-list heartthrob, being a virgin shattered every assumption.

No freaking way, Evelyn Sinclair thought, biting her lip to stifle laughter. Mr. "I-Date-Supermodels" is a virgin*? The tabloids would pay millions for this clip!*

Julian’s eye twitched at her mental cackling, but he couldn’t afford distractions. His grip on Celeste tightened, his voice raw. "I stayed faithful. To us."

Celeste, meanwhile, short-circuited. A man on his knees, swearing his... purity? Heat flooded her cheeks as she yanked her hands back. The absurdity was too much.

But Julian wasn’t done. "Test me. Anything," he rasped. "I’ll prove it."

Somewhere, a phone camera discreetly clicked. Tonight’s gossip just went nuclear.

Evelyn Sinclair, who had finally severed ties with their toxic relationship, couldn't take another second of it. She yanked her hand away and slammed the door shut behind her.

Her voice trembled with uncharacteristic panic. "T-That's none of my business!"

She bolted down the hallway, heart pounding.

Julian Blackwood rapped his knuckles against the door urgently. "But I'm serious! You have to believe me!"

"Julian Blackwood!" Isabelle shrieked, her eyes blazing with fury as she rounded on him. "Are you blind to anyone but that witch? Was everything we shared just a lie? You're utterly heartless!"

Julian finally turned to face her, his previously tender gaze icing over in an instant.

"Why did you come here tonight?" Suspicion laced his voice as he studied Isabelle's motives.

Isabelle stiffened, a flicker of guilt flashing across her features before she masked it.

So that's how it is! Watching the drama unfold, Evelyn seized the moment to dig up the scandalous truth.

Isabelle had been avoiding Vincent Holloway for weeks. But recently, she'd received devastating news—Vincent had contracted an STD. Panicked, she got tested and discovered she was infected. Blaming Julian for her predicament, she convinced herself that his constant rejection had driven her into Vincent's arms. In her twisted logic, if Julian had just loved her properly, none of this would have happened. Now that he was abandoning her, she was determined to drag him down with her. Pathetic.

Julian's expression darkened with cold rage. Cutting off any further excuses, he pulled out his phone and summoned Marcus Donovan to handle the situation.

Isabelle panicked. "So this is it? You'd really throw away everything we had? Even if I'm willing to be Celeste's replacement?"

Julian scoffed. "You could never measure up to her."

"But Celeste doesn't want you anymore!" Isabelle spat desperately. "You know how stubborn she is—she won't change her mind. At least with me, you'd have some comfort!"

Julian's voice turned glacial. "To me, you and Celeste have always been worlds apart—except for that one time I mistook her for you when I was dying. Don't degrade her just because you have no self-respect."

Isabelle trembled violently, not from fear, but from pure, seething hatred.

Marcus had shown her courtesy earlier for the sake of appearances, but now, her reckless behavior infuriated him. What if someone had snapped photos?

Surprisingly, Isabelle didn’t resist as Marcus escorted her away. But the venomous glare she shot over her shoulder made it clear—this wasn’t over.

Julian frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Evelyn groaned. "You should’ve told me sooner. I already posted it in the group chat."

Julian paled. "What group chat?"

"Um… the Blackwood family group."

His momentary relief vanished. Great. Now my whole family witnessed that train wreck.

He checked his phone frantically but found no messages in the main family chat.

"It’s… a smaller group I made," she admitted sheepishly.

Before bed, Nathan Blackwood hadn’t been the only one to reach out. Margaret, Richard, and Sophia had all—

Evelyn's phone buzzed incessantly as her concerned friends checked on her for staying out alone. Each notification carried the same worried question: Are you okay?

Replying individually felt exhausting. With a mischievous grin, she created a group chat—The Inner Circle—and typed a single message to address them all. Then, unable to resist, she dropped the explosive gossip she hadn’t shared with Nathan.

Richard, Margaret, and Sophia’s reactions were priceless. Evelyn smirked, promising to update them the moment she got fresh intel.

Killing two birds with one stone—gossip and peace of mind. Who could sleep with this kind of tea left unsipped?

Julian glanced at Evelyn just as she sheepishly turned her phone toward him. "Too late," she admitted. "They’ve all seen it. No take-backs." She shrugged. "Didn’t expect them to be night owls…"

The chat log was minimal but devastating. At the top was Evelyn’s video upload, captioned:

HOT GOSS ALERT! A-list heartthrob caught on his knees outside his fiancée’s door at midnight, screaming he’s a—

The video had already been viewed.

Below it, Richard, Margaret, and Sophia’s responses were a chaotic flood of:

!!!

WHAT. THE. ACTUAL. HELL.

Evelyn Sinclair, EXPLAIN. NOW.

The dark screen of Julian’s phone reflected his handsome face—now twisted in horrified disbelief.