Chapter 117

A faint twitch tugged at the corner of Evelyn Sinclair’s lips. She was beyond arguing about the ridiculous "Justice Upholder" nickname the internet had slapped on her.

I thought it was just a stupid online joke, but here’s the elegant Mrs. Holloway actually saying it with a straight face. How is she not embarrassed? I’m mortified enough for both of us.

Despite her internal screaming, Evelyn kept her expression perfectly composed. Little did she know, her silent rant had just been overheard by Margaret and Genevieve Blackwood, who had paused mid-step outside the lounge.

The two women, with far too much free time on their hands, had come to spy on how Nathan and Evelyn were getting along at the company. Finding them absent, they’d decided to rest in the lounge—only to stumble upon some juicy gossip.

Exchanging a glance, they quickly disguised themselves—oversized sunglasses, wide-brimmed hats, anything to hide their faces—before slipping inside unnoticed. They settled into a secluded booth, ears perked.

"Mrs. Holloway, you must be joking," Evelyn said with a strained laugh.

Ruth Holloway’s sharp gaze pinned her. "Of course not. You handled the first two groups flawlessly. You’re a woman of principle, Ms. Sinclair. Surely you wouldn’t tolerate such shameless behavior?"

Truthfully, Ruth knew Team A-List would’ve gone after the homewrecker regardless—for clout, for revenge, whatever. But this time, she wanted Evelyn’s help to ensure the woman stayed buried.

"If you cooperate, we’ll handle everything," Ruth said, her tone dripping with authority.

Evelyn tilted her head. "And what exactly is your plan?"

Ruth’s lips thinned, displeased by Evelyn’s casual tone. "The face-off is decided by lot, but with our influence, the producers will pair your groups first. The topic? 'Women.'"

Her smile turned venomous. "We’ll expose that so-called 'close confidante' as nothing but a husband-stealing snake. No sugarcoating. She ruins families—let’s make sure the world sees it."

Margaret and Genevieve gasped. Were they really going this far?

"Weren’t Mrs. Holloway and Ms. Delacroix on good terms before?" Genevieve whispered. "What happened?"

Margaret frowned. "Something must’ve gone very wrong."

Their suspicions were confirmed when Ruth’s next words spilled out—her husband, Vincent Holloway, wanted a divorce for Rebecca Yancey.

Ah. So that’s the real issue.

Evelyn, meanwhile, was scrolling through her phone right in front of them, utterly unfazed. "Let me just… fact-check this drama real quick."

The wives bristled. How dare she ignore them?

But as Evelyn dug deeper, her amusement faded. The "evidence" against Rebecca? All of it pointed to Vincent being the predator—forcing himself on her, manipulating scenes, even tearing her clothes.

Damn. She’s not a seductress—she’s a victim.

Margaret and Genevieve, now also scrolling, shared horrified looks. The entertainment industry’s darkness was on full display—and these wives were blaming the wrong person.

Rebecca wasn’t the problem.

It was the despicable men—and the women who enabled them.