Chapter 49

The first one who couldn't stay silent was Julian.

"Damn it! I knew that bastard was no good! And you actually moved in with him? What the hell were you thinking?" Julian was so furious he was practically shouting at Genevieve.

Even as Genevieve paled under his outburst, he didn't relent.

"Tell me the truth," Julian demanded, his voice sharp with anger. "When you two were living together, did he touch you?"

An uncomfortable tension settled over the room. Even Margaret and Sophia, who had known about the cohabitation, had never pressed for details.

Logically, Julian knew he shouldn’t pry into his sister’s private life, but the mere thought of that lowlife laying a finger on Genevieve made him sick to his stomach—like he might vomit up the Christmas feast he'd eaten three years ago.

Genevieve’s face burned with humiliation, but she lifted her chin stubbornly. "We had separate rooms. Damian respects me. He promised he wouldn’t cross any lines before marriage. He just wanted to be close to me. He’s a good man!"

She was an adult, after all. What happened between her and her boyfriend was none of their business. Half her college friends weren’t even virgins anymore. Compared to them, Damian’s restraint was proof of how much he valued her.

Her answer left the room in stunned silence.

On the surface, it should have been a relief. But everyone knew what a man usually expected when he convinced a woman to move in with him.

Julian’s first instinct was to call her a liar.

Then, Evelyn’s quiet, incredulous thought cut through the tension.

Wait… she’s telling the truth? That’s… weird.

The expressions around the room shifted in unison. Seriously? That doesn’t make sense. That punk had no problem groping a girl’s thigh in broad daylight, but he kept his hands to himself when they were alone?

He’s a young guy. Full of hormones. Living together and nothing happened? Is there something wrong with him? Let me check…

Unable to resist, Evelyn dug into the gossip, her curiosity burning.

The subtle shift in everyone’s expressions made Genevieve’s face flush even deeper.

That wasn’t the case. There had been moments—times when Damian held her, and she’d felt him.

But she wasn’t about to admit that to her brother.

The moment was abruptly shattered by Camille's interruption. Otherwise, who knows what might have happened?

While Evelyn couldn't confirm whether Damian had... performance issues, she did uncover something far more shocking. Oh my God!

The sudden outburst sent everyone's hearts racing, their breaths hitching in unison. The room fell into stunned silence.

Even Genevieve, who wasn't entirely familiar with Evelyn's sharp observations, felt a prickle of unease. Recalling Evelyn's earlier skepticism, Genevieve had always wondered—how could anyone dislike someone as seemingly perfect as Damian?

Just as she was lost in thought, Evelyn's incredulous voice cut through the air.

No way. Is Genevieve blind, or just plain stupid?

Genevieve froze, stunned by the accusation.

Evelyn's thoughts spilled out in rapid succession. Damian told Genevieve he treated her well. He said, "Look at other couples. The girlfriends cook, clean, hand over their paychecks—that’s what a good woman does. But you? You're my princess. I don’t care if you never grow up. Stay innocent forever." And like an idiot, Genevieve fell for it! Then he had the nerve to say, "You ruined my favorite jersey even though I only asked you to hand-wash it. What kind of woman doesn’t know how to do laundry? But I’m not mad. I’ll wash them myself. Where else would you find a man who spoils you like I do?" And what did Genevieve do? She apologized and thought it was sweet! Disgusting. I can’t even—my brain cells are dying just listening to this.

Around her, the others' expressions shifted like traffic lights, their gazes locked onto Genevieve with a mix of disbelief and morbid fascination.

Genevieve stiffened. She had always found Damian’s words endearing—until Evelyn threw them back at her with dripping sarcasm. A wave of humiliation crashed over her.

Something felt wrong, but what burned hotter was the indignation on Damian’s behalf.

"He—he really—" Genevieve’s voice trembled.

Julian couldn’t take it anymore. He jabbed a finger at her. "You’re a hopeless romantic!"

"I’m not!" she protested.

"Oh, right," Julian scoffed. "That term’s for people who are actually loved back. Since that’s not you, you’re just dumb." He crossed his arms. "Mom nearly died giving birth to you. Did she leave your brain behind in the delivery room?"

Genevieve, no match for Julian’s sharp tongue, faltered. Tears welled in her eyes. "No! He loves me. What about all of you? Have you ever—"

The siblings exchanged glances. Richard and Margaret looked ready to intervene.

Evelyn sighed internally. This family’s naivety must be genetic. Nathan, Sophia, and Julian have already been played. Now Genevieve’s next. I wonder if their parents were this gullible when they were young…

Richard’s voice turned icy. "Enough. Once the transfer application is filled out, it’s being submitted tonight."

"I don’t want to," Genevieve blurted.

Richard’s eyes narrowed. "What did you say?"

"I’m not leaving," she insisted, defiance flaring. "I already tore up the form."

Richard inhaled sharply. "You—you—"

Julian snorted. "Did that con artist perform a lobotomy on you?"

Genevieve clamped her mouth shut.

Then Nathan spoke. "Fine."

Just as Evelyn debated revealing where the crumpled form was hidden, Nathan’s voice cut in—

A sharp voice cut through the tension.

All eyes snapped to Nathan Blackwood, who had finally broken his silence.

Genevieve's breath hitched as she whispered, "Nate... you're really going to let me do this?"

His expression remained unreadable. "I'm not letting you do anything," he said coolly. "Your life is yours to ruin. If you’ve made up your mind, then face the consequences. Just don’t come crying to us later when it all falls apart."

A cold dread slithered down Genevieve’s spine. For the first time, she felt the weight of her choices pressing down on her—like sand slipping through her fingers, impossible to grasp.

The rest of the Blackwood family exchanged knowing glances. They understood Nathan’s game.

Youthful mistakes always came with a price.

And thanks to the Blackwood name, that price wouldn’t destroy her—but it would leave a scar. A permanent reminder of her recklessness.

Three days into her self-imposed isolation, someone finally came knocking.