Chapter 4

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she sipped her coffee, scrolling through her phone. A message from her agent, Serena Whitmore, popped up:

"Don't forget—meeting with Nathan Blackwood at 10 AM. His team insists on discussing the script changes in person."

Evelyn groaned. Nathan Blackwood—Hollywood's most infuriatingly talented actor—was also the most stubborn man she'd ever worked with. Their last collaboration had ended in a heated debate over a single line of dialogue.

She arrived at the sleek high-rise office fifteen minutes early, determined to maintain the upper hand. But fate had other plans.

The elevator doors slid open—and there he stood.

Nathan Blackwood, in all his unfairly handsome glory, leaned casually against the mirrored wall, his tailored navy suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes flicked up, locking onto hers with an intensity that made her pulse stutter.

"Miss Sinclair," he drawled, lips quirking. "Fancy meeting you here."

Evelyn forced a smile. "Mr. Blackwood. I see punctuality isn’t your strong suit."

His chuckle was low, infuriatingly smooth. "I was just thinking the same about you."

The elevator lurched—then plunged into darkness.

A sharp gasp escaped Evelyn as she stumbled forward, only to be caught by strong hands. Nathan's grip was firm, his warmth seeping through the thin fabric of her blouse.

"Relax," his voice murmured near her ear, sending an unwelcome shiver down her spine. "Emergency power should kick in soon."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Then—

"Still hate me, darling?" His tone was teasing, but there was something darker beneath it.

Evelyn scoffed. "Hate implies I care enough to feel anything at all."

A beat. Then Nathan shifted closer, his breath ghosting over her cheek. "Liar."

The lights flickered back on, revealing how dangerously close they stood. Evelyn jerked away, smoothing her skirt with trembling hands.

The doors opened to a hallway full of startled executives.

Nathan stepped out first, throwing her a smirk over his shoulder. "Try to keep up, sweetheart."

Evelyn clenched her fists. This man would be the death of her.

And the worst part?

She couldn’t wait to see him again.

Evelyn hadn’t expected Nathan to humiliate her so publicly. Her face paled, lips pressed into a thin line as she shot him a wounded look—as if he were the villain in this twisted drama.

Marcus, ever the knight in shining armor for his beloved, was seething. "You’re really going this far? This is a direct insult to Ms. Hayes’ honor!"

Nathan’s icy glare could have frozen the room, but Marcus refused to back down. "If you can’t prove anything, you owe her an apology."

The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Though no one else spoke, their disapproving expressions said it all.

The entire corporation had gathered, drawn like moths to a flame. After all, a prodigy like Victoria was invaluable to the company.

Most assumed Nathan had lost his mind. Everyone knew Evelyn was nothing more than a nuisance—a wife in name only. But Victoria? She was indispensable.

Evelyn, however, suspected they were all just here for the spectacle.

Their eager, gossip-hungry stares gave them away.

One woman was Nathan’s neglected wife, the other his brilliant protégée. The office had probably started a betting pool on who would win this battle.

Evelyn, who had always been content to stay in the shadows, never imagined she’d become the center of attention.

Turns out I’m the punchline in this joke.

She glared daggers at Nathan’s back, but he remained infuriatingly indifferent.

Has she always been this insufferable? he wondered, irritation simmering beneath his calm exterior.

Then, the investigation results came in.

No surprises—Victoria was cleared of all suspicion.

Marcus smirked triumphantly. "Well, Nathan? Still planning to cover for Evelyn?"

Evelyn could feel Nathan’s gaze shift toward her.

"Mr. Blackwood, do you believe me now?" Victoria’s voice trembled, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.

Nathan glanced at his phone, then back at her.

The moment their eyes met, Victoria’s blood ran cold.

The room fell silent as Nathan turned toward the screen behind him.

A new surveillance feed replaced the old one.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as the footage played—Victoria entering Marcus’s office.

Confusion spread like wildfire.

What kind of twist is this?

Victoria’s face drained of color. Her hands shook, her breath coming in shallow bursts.

Marcus snapped, "What’s the meaning of this? That’s just Victoria delivering documents!"

Nathan ignored him, his expression unreadable.

Then, a screen recording appeared—someone manipulating a computer.

The wallpaper? A picture of Victoria.

The truth hit like a freight train.

We’re doomed.

Under Nathan’s ruthless rule, they’d all be fired. Victoria had dragged them down with her.

No one dared speak.

Victoria was trembling now, her voice barely a whisper. "Nathan, I didn’t—"

"Serena Whitmore is your cousin’s wife, isn’t she?" Nathan’s voice was lethally calm. "You conspired with her to frame Evelyn."

The room erupted in shock.

Victoria’s knees nearly buckled. "How did you—? You knew all along?"

Even the spectators were stunned. No one had seen this coming.

Evelyn, meanwhile, was still processing the footage.

She had suspected the truth, but Nathan’s sharp instincts surprised her.

He knew Serena’s identity? But how did Marcus get involved?

Nathan caught Evelyn’s bewildered stare.

I can’t exactly tell them I heard it from Evelyn’s thoughts, can I?

Instead, he said coolly, "Once you’re a suspect, every piece of footage with your face gets reviewed. Every device you’ve touched gets scrutinized."

Victoria had made one fatal mistake—she hadn’t deleted the incriminating evidence.

And Evelyn had been the one to point it out.