Chapter 174

The tension in the penthouse was palpable as Evelyn Sinclair clutched her phone, her knuckles white. Nathan Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his broad shoulders rigid with barely contained fury. The city lights flickered below, casting long shadows across his chiseled features.

"You knew," Evelyn whispered, her voice trembling. "All this time, you knew."

Nathan turned slowly, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "I had my suspicions," he admitted, his deep voice laced with regret. "But I needed proof before I could act."

Evelyn's heart pounded in her chest. The betrayal cut deeper than she had anticipated. Victoria Hayes, the woman she had trusted as her secretary, had been playing a dangerous game behind the scenes.

A sharp knock at the door interrupted the heavy silence. Lillian Graves, Evelyn's assistant, stepped in hesitantly. "Ma'am, there's an urgent call for you. It's Preston Whitmore."

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Nathan before taking the phone. The director's voice crackled through the line, frantic. "Evelyn, we have a problem. The press just got wind of the scandal. It's everywhere."

Her stomach dropped. "How?"

"Someone leaked the footage," Preston said grimly. "It's all over social media."

Nathan snatched the phone from her hand. "Pull every string you have. We need damage control now."

Evelyn sank onto the couch, her mind racing. The carefully constructed facade of her career was crumbling, and the vultures were circling. But one thing was certain—she wouldn't go down without a fight.

Across the room, Nathan's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen, his expression darkening further. "It's Julian," he muttered. "He says Harrison Montgomery is involved."

Evelyn's breath hitched. Harrison—the famous actor married to Natalie Whitaker—was tangled in this mess too? The web of deceit was far more extensive than she had imagined.

Nathan pocketed his phone and strode toward her, determination burning in his eyes. "We're ending this tonight."

Evelyn nodded, steeling herself. Whatever came next, they would face it together.

But as the clock ticked toward midnight, one chilling question remained—who else was hiding in the shadows?

One netizen posted: Can someone explain what just went down?

Another replied: Seriously? You see the police cars and Gabriel's actions, and you still don't get it?

A third chimed in: So Gabriel was actually involved in drugs?

A skeptical comment followed: Is this another one of Team A-List’s publicity stunts? Coordinating with the cops for drama? That’s next-level marketing.

A sarcastic reply shot back: Pure coincidence. Who knew Team A-List would bring in a sniffer dog? Gabriel just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Talk about bad luck.

Another user laughed: If this is a coincidence, it’s the funniest thing ever. We were all arguing about Gabriel’s innocence. Well, case closed.

A dramatic post read: A simple variety show turned into a crime scene. Classic Team A-List—never a dull moment.

One fan joked: First, Evelyn exposes industry scandals, now she’s uncovering actual crimes? Iconic.

Another agreed: Evelyn never fails to deliver the drama.

Evelyn sat in the audience, scrolling through the chaos online. She groaned.

How is this my fault? she thought. Danielle borrowed Sven, Gabriel brought the drugs, and I was just sitting here! Unbelievable.

The Blackwoods around her were torn between amusement and exasperation.

No one had seen this coming.

Vivienne was still reeling from the whispers about drug trafficking. It was beyond anything she’d imagined.

Claire, Gabriel’s mother, had already left to assist with the investigation.

At this point, the show’s outcome didn’t matter. Once the police arrested the dealer hiding in the restroom, the audience was free to go.

After verifying identities, everyone was released.

As the Blackwoods passed through the venue, they spotted Daniel Wright in the middle of the chaos.

Despite his hectic schedule, Daniel flashed them a grin, his gaze lingering on Evelyn.

Sure, things had gone sideways—but without Evelyn and Julian’s little performance, the police wouldn’t have landed such a major bust.

The unexpected turn of events had left Roland with a newfound appreciation for Evelyn Sinclair.

Nearby, a group of young officers cast admiring glances at Evelyn and Julian, their expressions a mix of awe and gratitude.

"You were incredible. Let me take you both out for dinner as thanks," Roland offered, his tone sincere.

"Just luck," Nathan murmured, though his mind was already racing.

Damn. I didn’t even consider the contact in the restroom, but they already caught him. Tonight turned out better than expected. If I check the contact myself, maybe— His thoughts screeched to a halt. Why didn’t I think of that sooner? Let’s see…

Nathan’s expression darkened. Could it really be?

What? I can’t see anything? His frustration flared. Right. Too much interference with reality means limited access. This system only scrapes the surface—gossip, not secrets. What a waste.

He realized then that Evelyn wasn’t omniscient. Her abilities only revealed fragments—simple, surface-level information tied to individuals or their immediate connections.

For example, uncovering Gabriel’s details had led to the contact. If Evelyn probed further, she might catch trivial details about related figures—things the police could dig up themselves—but nothing that would expose the mastermind outright. That would tip the scales too far.

Nathan sighed. It was disappointing, but logical. If Evelyn’s powers were limitless, the balance would shatter.

With that realization, neither he nor Evelyn dwelled on it further.

After a brief exchange with Roland, Nathan guided his family toward the exit.

At the studio’s entrance, Sven lay sprawled on the ground, exhausted.

The moment the dog spotted Evelyn, it scrambled to its feet, tail wagging furiously, whining softly.

The trainer chuckled. "He’s apologizing for not finishing the performance with you."

Evelyn crouched, scratching behind Sven’s ears. "Don’t be silly. You were amazing. What you did was far more important than my little act. Good boy, Sven!"

Thrilled by the praise, Sven nuzzled her leg affectionately.

The group couldn’t resist snapping photos with the heroic K-9 before finally leaving.

Outside, chaos still simmered. Preston Whitmore and Donovan Sharpe looked utterly drained as they managed the aftermath, their clothes rumpled, their expressions weary.

Danielle even approached them, offering a few words of sympathy.

Then, from the crowd, two sharp, resentful gazes locked onto Evelyn.

Evelyn Sinclair was utterly bewildered.

“This wasn’t my doing. I had no prior knowledge of any of this,” Evelyn protested, her voice firm. “Besides, isn’t this a good outcome? We helped catch criminals.”

“We’re glad to have done our civic duty, but our nerves can’t take much more of this. We’d like to live a few more years,” Donovan Sharpe said, his voice trembling as if on the verge of tears.

Preston Whitmore threw his hands up in exasperation. “Next time you decide to join a show, could you please avoid dragging us into it? I think we’re fundamentally incompatible.”

The others stifled their laughter, though the tension in the room made it difficult to indulge in humor.

Honestly, who had ever heard of a variety show spiraling into such chaos? It was unprecedented—an absolute spectacle in the entertainment industry. But this was just an unfortunate coincidence, and there was nothing anyone could do about it now. All they could offer were sympathetic pats on the back.

Little did they know, the storm had only just begun.

Though social media was ablaze with wild theories, the production team and participating celebrities remained tight-lipped, waiting for the official police statement.

Only the live audience from the broadcast studio that night could provide any real insight, but separating fact from fiction was proving impossible.

As the night wore on, however, the leaks took a darker turn.

One netizen posted: My neighbor is [REDACTED]. The police showed up at their place at midnight!

Another chimed in: Guys, my girlfriend works PR for an artist. She got yanked out of bed for an emergency meeting. Something big is going down.

A third comment read: Did someone report my upstairs neighbor? Usually, they’re just noisy, but tonight, the cops showed up. I peeked—turns out it’s [REDACTED], that famous actor!

Yet another claimed: Paparazzi just snapped photos of multiple celebrities being escorted into police cars.

Confusion spread like wildfire. What the hell is happening? I thought only Gabriel Ramirez got busted tonight?

By morning, the rumors had spiraled into something even more outrageous.

Evelyn had slept through the night, blissfully unaware. It wasn’t until she sat down for breakfast and scrolled through Twitter that she realized the extent of the chaos. Her brows furrowed in bewilderment.

Around the breakfast table, the gossip was relentless.

“What on earth happened?” Genevieve gasped, eyes wide.

Julian scrolled through his phone, lips pressed into a thin line. “Apparently, multiple celebrities had their homes raided last night. Industry insiders are whispering about drug use.”

Richard sighed. “So this is connected to Gabriel’s arrest? He was trafficking, not using, right?”

Margaret’s fingers flew across her screen as she muttered in disbelief, “Good heavens. If this is all linked, some of these ‘wholesome’ celebrities might be .”

Sophia's warning rang in Evelyn's ears: "Celebrity worship comes with dangerous consequences!"

With trembling fingers, Evelyn scrolled through the breaking news alerts. It wasn't Gabriel Ramirez at the center of this storm after all—it was his connection, a shadowy figure who'd been supplying narcotics to A-list celebrities for years. The real bombshell? The dealer kept meticulous records of every artist he'd ever supplied.

"Holy..." Evelyn's breath hitched as the implications hit her. This wasn't just a scandal—it was an atomic bomb about to detonate across the entertainment industry. How many careers would crumble when those names surfaced? She could already picture the devastation among fan communities worldwide—heartbroken devotees watching their idols' carefully constructed images shatter overnight.

The article continued with chilling details: encrypted ledgers, coded messages, and a network that reached into the highest echelons of show business. This wasn't merely about recreational drug use—it hinted at coercion, blackmail, and an entire system of control.

Evelyn's phone buzzed with frantic messages from Lillian, her assistant: "Are you seeing this? The studio's in lockdown. Publicists are having meltdowns. This changes EVERYTHING."

As she refreshed the page, three more major outlets picked up the story. The tsunami of revelations had only just begun. Somewhere in Los Angeles, powerful people were scrambling to contain the damage—but the genie couldn't be forced back into the bottle.

A thought struck Evelyn with icy clarity: Whoever leaked this information didn't just want to expose the drug ring—they intended to burn the entire entertainment industry to the ground. And in the ashes? Only the truth would remain.

She reached for her laptop, her reporter's instincts kicking in. This story had more layers than anyone realized, and Evelyn Sinclair intended to uncover every last one—no matter who tried to stop her. The real question wasn't which celebrities would fall, but who had orchestrated their downfall... and why now?

The game had changed. The rules no longer applied. And Evelyn? She held her breath as the first celebrity name appeared in the comments section—a Grammy-winning singer whose wholesome image had just been obliterated in a single keystroke.

This was only the beginning.