Chapter 50

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she clutched the damning photograph in her trembling hands. The image of Nathan Blackwood and Victoria Hayes locked in a heated embrace outside a luxury hotel sent a sharp pang through her chest.

How could he?

Her phone buzzed—another message from Lillian Graves, her ever-loyal assistant.

Lillian: Evelyn, the board meeting starts in an hour. You need to be there.

Evelyn exhaled sharply, tossing the photo onto her marble coffee table. She had spent years building Sinclair Media from the ground up, only for Nathan to betray her trust so carelessly.

Across town, Nathan adjusted his cufflinks in the mirror of his penthouse suite, his mind still replaying last night’s disastrous encounter with Victoria. She had ambushed him outside the gala, her calculated embrace timed perfectly for the paparazzi lurking nearby.

His phone rang—Julian, his younger brother.

Julian: You’ve seen the headlines, right?

Nathan gritted his teeth. Of course. The tabloids had wasted no time splashing the scandal across their front pages.

Nathan: It’s not what it looks like.

Julian: Tell that to Evelyn.

Nathan’s stomach twisted. He had to fix this—before Evelyn made a decision he’d both regret and deserve.

At Sinclair Media’s headquarters, Evelyn strode into the boardroom, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor. The room fell silent as she took her seat at the head of the table.

Victoria Hayes smirked from across the room, her crimson lips curling in triumph.

Evelyn met her gaze, unflinching.

Evelyn: Let’s begin.

The battle lines were drawn.

Meanwhile, Sophia Blackwood paced her living room, her phone pressed to her ear.

Sophia: Nathan, you need to fix this. Now.

Her husband, Daniel Prescott, watched her with concern.

Daniel: What’s going on?

Sophia shook her head. Nothing good.

Back at the office, Lillian handed Evelyn a sealed envelope.

Lillian: This just arrived for you. Marked urgent.

Evelyn tore it open, her breath hitching as she scanned the contents.

A single line stood out in bold print:

"Victoria Hayes is working with Preston Whitmore to take over Sinclair Media."

Evelyn’s grip tightened on the paper.

This wasn’t just a betrayal.

It was war.

Nathan’s car screeched to a halt outside Sinclair Tower. He had to see Evelyn—to explain before it was too late.

But as he stepped into the lobby, his phone buzzed with a notification.

Breaking News: Sinclair Media CEO Evelyn Sinclair announces emergency shareholder meeting amid scandal.

Nathan’s heart sank.

He was already too late.

The Blackwoods made no move to seek out Damian. After all, he hadn’t earned that privilege yet.

But what they never anticipated was Nathan escorting someone inside—Camille.

Night had fallen, and the entire family was gathered in the grand hall. One by one, their gazes locked onto the unexpected visitor.

Camille was undeniably pretty, carrying herself with a poised elegance that would put any parent at ease. The kind of girl you’d trust around your children.

Once, the Blackwoods had doted on her, showering her with gifts. But ever since Damian started dating Genevieve, their warmth had turned to ice.

Now, she stood awkwardly under their collective scrutiny, the hostility palpable.

Among the stares, one burned particularly sharp. That must be Genevieve’s sister-in-law, Camille thought. Though I’ve never met her, the way she’s looking at me… it’s unsettling. Her eyes are almost… vacant.

Margaret had been about to offer some stern words from a mother’s perspective when Genevieve’s hurried footsteps interrupted.

“Cam!”

“Gen!”

Their bond was unmistakable—tight as sisters.

Julian didn’t hold back. “The girlfriend’s fighting tooth and nail for this sham of a relationship, and the boyfriend’s too cowardly to show his face? Sending his sister instead? Pathetic.”

Genevieve immediately defended, “I told him not to come! Don’t blame Damian.”

Camille bit her lip. “I just wanted to check on Gen. Damian’s worried too, but he didn’t want to upset you all further. He knows he messed up by moving Gen in without your permission. But he adores her. That’s why he acted impulsively. I’m here to apologize on his behalf.”

She bowed deeply.

The Blackwoods had no intention of making Camille’s visit harder than it already was, so they let it slide.

Genevieve quickly whisked Camille upstairs to her room.

Downstairs, Julian kept mocking Damian’s spinelessness. He was the only one who’d crossed paths with the guy. According to Julian, Damian might look respectable, but his slimy demeanor screamed con artist.

Yet, for some reason, good girls always fell for these bad boys.

The Blackwoods sighed in unison. How had it come to this?

Evelyn, seated quietly on the couch, had been unusually silent since Camille’s arrival.

It wasn’t until Nathan handed her a yogurt that he noticed her deepening frown. “What’s wrong?”

Her lips twitched. She glanced at him, then at the others. “Nothing.”

Her tone was light, but her expression was anything but. The family exchanged uneasy looks. Something’s off. That look… it’s ominous.

Evelyn’s thoughts raced. How do I break this to them? Maybe I should just tighten security. That might solve everything.

The family tensed. Security? What’s she not telling us?

Then it hit Evelyn like a truck. Oh, this is rich. All this time, we thought the punk was manipulating our sweet Genevieve. But the real snake? Her best friend.

The Blackwoods stiffened. Wait—what?

Nathan’s gaze sharpened.

Just then, footsteps echoed from upstairs. Genevieve was seeing Camille out.

Now, the family’s stares turned downright suspicious.

Camille fidgeted under the scrutiny. As she turned to leave, Nathan dropped a bombshell.

“Genevieve gave up her spot in the international exchange program. Rumor has it, you’re next in line.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to him, impressed. Sharp.

The family’s glares intensified. So that’s the game.

Camille feigned innocence. “I did try to talk her out of it. But since I was next on the list…”

Julian scoffed. “How convenient. Tell me, was this your plan all along? Your brother seduces our sister, and you swoop in for her spot?”

Exactly, Evelyn thought. But it’s not just about the exchange program…

Genevieve paled, her gaze darting to Evelyn. Why does everyone take her word as gospel?

Camille, however, remained unshaken. She clasped Genevieve’s hand. “The exchange thing is a coincidence. I get why you’re wary of me—because of Damian and Gen. But his feelings are real. He loves her. He wants to spend his life making her happy. Can’t you give them that chance?”

Julian’s outburst had gone unchallenged, signaling the family’s collective stance.

Camille’s eyes gleamed as she squeezed Genevieve’s hand. Made your choice yet?

Genevieve’s voice trembled. “Why can’t you just let us be happy?” Tears welled.

Camille pulled her close, the picture of solidarity against their “cruel” family.

Then Genevieve dropped her own bomb.

“You don’t know everything. When I was researching abroad, if Damian hadn’t saved me, I could’ve—”

“What?” Richard and Margaret blanched. “What happened?”

Genevieve launched into her tale—how she’d once been so absorbed in her art that she’d forget to eat, often passing out from hunger. One night, she’d collapsed in the studio. Damian had carried her back to her dorm.

“When I woke up,” she whispered, “the room smelled like home. He’d cooked for me. Three dishes, soup—everything. He’d never cooked before, but he did it for me. After that, he made sure I never skipped a meal. He cares. If I lose him, who’ll ever love me like that?”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Our chefs make seven-course meals daily.”

“It’s not the same,” Genevieve insisted. “His food was made with love. You wouldn’t understand.”

Sophia cut in, voice tight. “Remember when Mom tried cooking? You got food poisoning. We banned her from the kitchen after that. And now you’re swooning over this?”

The family’s accusatory stares made Genevieve waver.

Then Evelyn’s silent laughter echoed in her mind.

Oh, this is priceless. She’s ready to elope over takeout. Damian didn’t cook—he ordered in and plated it. And she bought it. Hook, line, and sinker.