Chapter 181

The Juicy Secrets in Her Head

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting a golden glow over Evelyn Sinclair’s bedroom. She stretched lazily, her mind already buzzing with the latest gossip she had overheard at last night’s gala.

Nathan Blackwood and Victoria Hayes were seen arguing in the hallway.

Evelyn smirked as she replayed the scene in her mind. Nathan, ever the composed businessman, had looked genuinely flustered—something rare for him. Victoria, his usually poised secretary, had been red-faced and nearly shouting.

What could have set them off?

She padded to her vanity, picking up her phone to scroll through messages. Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant, had already sent her a rundown of the day’s schedule. But Evelyn’s thoughts kept drifting back to Nathan and Victoria.

Was it about work? Or something… personal?

A knock at the door interrupted her musings. "Evelyn? You up?" Serena Whitmore, her agent, peeked in, holding a steaming cup of coffee. "You’re going to want to hear this."

Evelyn arched a brow. "If it’s about Nathan and Victoria, I already know."

Serena’s eyes widened. "You do?"

"Of course. They had a very public spat last night." Evelyn took the coffee, savoring the rich aroma. "But I don’t know why."

Serena leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. "Rumor has it Victoria was caught snooping through Nathan’s private files. Something about a hidden contract."

Evelyn nearly choked on her coffee. Now that’s interesting.

Nathan Blackwood wasn’t the type to leave incriminating documents lying around. If Victoria had gone digging, she must have been desperate—or stupid.

"Any idea what the contract was about?" Evelyn asked, her curiosity piqued.

Serena shrugged. "No one knows yet. But if I had to guess? It’s tied to that secret project he’s been working on with Julian."

Evelyn’s lips curled into a slow smile. Oh, this is going to be fun.

She set down her coffee and reached for her tablet. If Nathan was hiding something, she was going to find out what it was—before Victoria did.

And if she happened to uncover a few more juicy secrets along the way?

Well, that was just a bonus.

Evelyn Sinclair hurried down the corridor, her mind buzzing with the latest gossip she couldn’t wait to share. As she rounded the corner, someone suddenly stumbled into her path, sending a box tumbling straight toward her.

For a split second, Evelyn couldn’t react fast enough. The box burst open, its contents scattering in her direction—until a strong arm yanked her backward.

She crashed into a solid chest, shielded completely. Not a single stray object touched her.

Nathan Blackwood had pulled her close, one arm locked around her waist, the other raised defensively in front of her. Every flying item had been deflected by his forearm.

"Are you hurt?" His deep voice rumbled above her, laced with concern despite its usual cool edge.

Evelyn blinked, startled. "I—I'm fine."

Nathan released her, and they both turned toward the figure on the ground. A young woman with a high ponytail and a black mask sat awkwardly amidst spilled cosmetics. She scrambled up, tugging her mask down, her face pale with exhaustion.

"I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to— Oh! Ms. Sinclair?"

Evelyn recognized her instantly—Violet Carter, the assistant makeup artist assigned to their team for The Art of Performance.

"Violet?" Evelyn frowned, taking in the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you okay? You look terrible."

Violet forced a weak smile. "Just… skipped a few meals. Blood sugar drop, probably."

A distant voice called her name, and Violet quickly bowed again. "I should go. Sorry again, Ms. Sinclair!"

Before darting off, she cast a fleeting, almost nervous glance at Nathan.

As the makeup artist for their team, Violet had seen him around—enough to know he wasn’t someone you wanted to cross.

Evelyn watched her go, unease prickling under her skin. Something wasn’t right.

And Nathan’s sharp gaze followed Violet too, his expression unreadable.

Julian. Even in her professional capacity, Violet couldn't help but admire his striking features—those sharp cheekbones, the piercing gaze, the effortless charm that seemed woven into his DNA.

She'd caught whispers here and there about Nathan and Evelyn being married. But Violet wasn’t one to pry or spread rumors. Discretion was her middle name. So when she spotted the couple that evening, she kept her curiosity in check, though her artist’s eye couldn’t resist appreciating the visual harmony they created.

The pair standing before her were nothing short of breathtaking. As a makeup artist, Violet had an eye for beauty, and these two were masterpieces—Nathan with his sculpted jawline, Evelyn with her ethereal grace. She allowed herself a few stolen glances before snapping back to reality.

Finishing her sentence, Violet hastily bent to gather the scattered makeup products littering the floor. Seeing her flustered state, Evelyn instinctively knelt to help. Nathan, ever the gentleman, joined without a word.

Violet’s cheeks flushed. "Oh, no, please! You don’t have to—"

But it was too late. The three of them made quick work of the mess. As Nathan picked up the last item—a delicate, silver bracelet—his fingers stilled. The intricate design caught his attention.

Violet gasped, snatching it from his palm with trembling hands. "Thank goodness! I thought I’d lost it." She inspected the bracelet like a lifeline, relief washing over her as she tucked it safely into her pocket.

The muffled sound of someone calling her name echoed down the hall. Violet offered a hurried thanks before scurrying away, leaving Nathan and Evelyn alone.

Evelyn clicked her tongue, arms crossed. "That bracelet? Definitely a gift from a man who lives off women. I’ll give him credit—he’s got taste. But I can’t place the brand."

Nathan’s lips quirked. "Custom-made."

Evelyn arched a brow. "Expensive?"

"Not that one," Nathan admitted.

Evelyn smirked. "Figures. Well, you know what they say..."

As they walked, Evelyn couldn’t resist filling Nathan in on the latest backstage gossip. After all, it wasn’t classified information—just the usual chatter that floated around during recordings.

Nathan tilted his head, listening intently.

"She’s an assistant makeup artist for My Acting Skill—decent pay, but she’s always hustling for extra gigs. You can see the exhaustion in her eyes. And why? Because she’s bankrolling some deadbeat boyfriend."

Nathan frowned. "Bankrolling?"

Evelyn scoffed. "Two years. Two whole years she’s been supporting him. He eats her food, lives under her roof, and contributes nothing. Classic freeloader."

Nathan’s expression darkened. "Pathetic."

Evelyn nodded. "Exactly. And that bracelet? Probably the only nice thing he’s ever given her—with her money, no doubt."

A beat of silence passed before Evelyn sighed. "Some women have terrible taste in men."

Nathan shot her a sidelong glance. "Good thing you don’t."

Evelyn smirked. "Flattery won’t get you out of buying me dinner later."

Nathan chuckled as they turned the corner, the weight of Violet’s situation lingering in the air.

Mason Hunter rarely left their shared apartment these days, consumed by his fledgling online business venture. Every expense—from rent to groceries—was shouldered by Violet Carter, who never once complained. In fact, she spoiled him relentlessly, ensuring he had the finest clothes, the latest gadgets, even premium organic meals. She nurtured his dreams with unwavering faith, convinced of his inevitable success. To her, this wasn’t dependence; it was partnership. The mere suggestion that Mason might be taking advantage of her devotion would spark indignation. Even her mentor, after countless failed interventions, had given up.

Nathan Blackwood arched a brow. "And her boyfriend just lets her exhaust herself like this?"

Evelyn Sinclair nodded, lips pursed. "I won’t deny there are men who genuinely need temporary support while building something. But Mason? He’s not one of them."

"Exactly," Nathan agreed, voice edged with disdain. "If he were truly struggling, he’d refuse her extravagance. Instead, he’s living comfortably while she works herself to the bone."

Evelyn’s hand landed on his shoulder with a frustrated pat. "Worse—she once took an advance payment because he crashed into a Lamborghini. They fought, of course. No compromise, just her emptying her savings to cover his recklessness." She scoffed. "Useless. Temperamental. What does she even see in him? Did he pull her from a burning building?"

Her sympathy for Violet was genuine, but so was her contempt. Yet Evelyn never considered intervening. Violet wasn’t some naive victim. She didn’t feel exploited. If anything, she seemed to revel in her sacrifices. Who was Evelyn to disrupt that delusion? She wouldn’t waste energy deciphering Violet’s logic—venting was catharsis enough.

Nathan, however, grew more perplexed. How had that bracelet ended up with Violet?

Evelyn adored gossip. Perhaps she’d appreciate a tidbit in return—something to pique her curiosity. Their conversations couldn’t always be one-sided. He needed to contribute, to engage her.

Just as he opened his mouth, movement at the hallway’s end caught his eye.

Daniel Wright emerged, pausing mid-step at the sight of them. They stood close, heads tilted together, whispering like conspirators. Nathan’s smirk suggested he’d just heard something scandalous; Evelyn’s eyes glittered with avid interest.

Daniel blinked. He’d seen them together before, but this? This felt... surreal.