Chapter 185

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse, illuminating the scattered scripts on her coffee table. She traced her fingers over the bold title of her latest project—Whispers of the Heart—a role that could redefine her career.

Her phone buzzed, breaking the silence.

Lillian Graves (Assistant): "Evelyn, Preston Whitmore just called. The studio wants to fast-track production. They’re moving the table read to tomorrow."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. Tomorrow? She had barely annotating her script.

Before she could respond, another message flashed.

Nathan Blackwood: "Breakfast at The Velvet Rose? I have news."

Her lips curved into a smile. Nathan’s texts always carried an air of mystery, but this one felt different.

The Velvet Rose was an upscale café tucked between high-rises, its marble countertops gleaming under delicate chandeliers. Nathan sat at their usual corner booth, his sharp jawline accentuated by the morning light.

"You’re early," Evelyn teased, sliding into the seat across from him.

Nathan smirked, pushing a steaming cup of lavender latte toward her. "When have I ever kept you waiting?"

She took a sip, the floral notes calming her nerves. "So, what’s this news?"

His expression turned serious. "Vincent Holloway is backing out of Whispers."

Evelyn nearly choked on her drink. "What? He’s the lead investor!"

"Not anymore." Nathan leaned in, his voice low. "Rumor has it, he’s diverting funds to that indie film Seraphina Delacroix is producing."

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her cup. Seraphina—her longtime rival—had a knack for sabotaging her projects.

"But," Nathan continued, a sly glint in his eyes, "I might have a solution."

She arched a brow. "Do tell."

"Sebastian Hart."

Evelyn’s breath hitched. Sebastian was A-list, notoriously selective, and—most importantly—untouchable by Seraphina’s schemes.

"You think he’d consider it?" she asked.

Nathan’s lips quirked. "He already has. We met last night."

Evelyn’s heart raced. This changed everything.

Back at her penthouse, Evelyn paced, her mind whirling. If Sebastian signed on, the studio wouldn’t dare delay production. But why would he agree so quickly?

Her phone rang—Preston Whitmore.

"Evelyn," his voice was tense. "We need you on set in two hours. Donovan Sharpe is pushing for reshoots on the finale."

Her stomach dropped. "That’s impossible. We wrapped last week!"

"Not according to the new edits." A pause. "And… Seraphina’s here. She’s suggesting… revisions to your character’s arc."

Evelyn’s blood ran cold.

This wasn’t just about Whispers anymore.

This was war.

"Nice to meet you," Gwendolyn Brooks greeted, her bedroom eyes lighting up momentarily as they met Evelyn Sinclair's gaze. Her voice lifted briefly before she caught herself, smoothing her expression into practiced professionalism.

Those hypnotic eyes—deep pools of liquid warmth—were identical to Vivian Moore's, Grayson Hart's first love and ex-girlfriend.

From Evelyn's perspective, the gossip about Grayson hiring a lookalike substitute for his unrequited crush suddenly made tragicomical sense.

There was just one hiccup.

Oh, this college girl is actually my fan. Not bad—she’s got taste. Evelyn smirked internally. No wonder she looked so starstruck earlier. If she weren’t on duty, she’d probably be scrambling for a selfie right now.

On duty…

Nathan Blackwood resisted the urge to facepalm.

When Evelyn had casually exposed Damien’s scandals earlier, her revelations felt frustratingly sparse. But now? He’d give anything to unhear this.

What kind of deranged idiot hires a college student as a living memorial to his ex? Nathan cringed inwardly. Though, given how that breakup went down, maybe I shouldn’t be surprised…

Evelyn’s mental commentary continued unabated: Hah! Turns out Vivian dumped him for the simplest reason—she got bored. Long-distance was exhausting, her feelings fizzled, and she wanted to ‘explore new horizons’ (read: date foreign guys). So she publicly broke it off to avoid cheating allegations. Cold-blooded efficiency!

Nathan’s lips twitched. Vivian did always play by her own rules. Last I checked, she’s on boyfriend number three in Barcelona. Even I’ve accidentally seen her tan-line photos on Instagram.

I’d pay to see Grayson’s face when she walked away, Evelyn mused.

Nathan mentally replayed the scene: Oh, it was priceless. Dude tried to salvage his pride by threatening, ‘You’ll regret this!’ like some rejected Disney villain.

And Vivian? Evelyn’s inner voice dripped with glee. She blew him a kiss and told him to ‘stay mad, sweetheart’ before strutting off.

Worst part? Nathan added silently. He held out hope until her new boyfriend’s yacht pics went viral.

Evelyn’s imaginary popcorn munching grew louder. Then he hired Mini-Vivian here? Pathetic. Though… Her gaze flicked to Gwendolyn’s expertly neutral smile. This girl’s clearly smarter than she looks. Watch her turn this into a paid acting gig.

Nathan choked on his drink. God, she’s right. That’s exactly what—

"Another whiskey, Mr. Blackwood?" Gwendolyn asked sweetly, already reaching for his glass.

Evelyn’s eyes sparkled with mischief. Called it.

Did Grayson truly believe that Vivian, who had walked away from him by choice, would still care?

For some inexplicable reason, I couldn’t help but pity Grayson…

Truth be told, Nathan was taken aback. Grayson had once been the epitome of a playboy, cycling through girlfriends like seasons. Each time, it was the women who fell hopelessly for him. Even after his breakup with Vivian, he’d indulged in his usual escapades. Yet, against all odds, he still couldn’t erase her from his heart.

Was this what they meant when they said every man had his own kryptonite? Evelyn mused silently.

Nathan agreed wordlessly. You hit the nail on the head…

Evelyn’s thoughts spiraled further. During a chance encounter with Gwendolyn, who was job-hunting, Grayson had the audacity to hire her as a stand-in for Vivian. He claimed to love Vivian but couldn’t tolerate her fiery temperament. So, he’d instructed Gwendolyn to study Vivian’s mannerisms and speech—yet demanded she embody a docile, obedient version of her.

Nathan’s brows knitted slightly, his gaze flickering with disdain toward his so-called friend. This behavior is beyond questionable.

Evelyn scoffed inwardly. This man is living in pure delusion. Since he can’t have the perfect woman, he’s decided to mold someone into his ideal?

Quietly, Nathan exhaled in relief. Thankfully, Gwendolyn seems to have no ulterior motives, and this arrangement is mutually beneficial. Otherwise, this would’ve been a disaster waiting to happen.

Suddenly, realization struck Evelyn. Ah, I see now! He doesn’t even consider Gwendolyn a girlfriend, yet he brought her to this event. He’s playing mind games—hoping Vivian, who’s overseas, will catch wind of this. Seriously, Grayson, do you really think using Gwendolyn as bait will lure Vivian back? So the two women can fight over you?

Nathan blinked. Huh?

How utterly childish. Even so, it depended on whether they were willing to play along. I can’t speak for Vivian, but Gwendolyn is about to resign, you know? Ha! His arrogance is his downfall. I’d pay to see his face when Gwendolyn quits and Vivian doesn’t come running back.

Evelyn’s mind raced with gossip, her lips twitching as she struggled to suppress a smirk.

Watching Grayson strut around as if Gwendolyn were his property, it took every ounce of her self-control not to burst out laughing.

Beside her, Nathan could feel her trembling with suppressed amusement.

He wanted to bury his face in his hands, mortified on Grayson’s behalf. Evelyn had seen right through his pathetic scheme.

Because even after Gwendolyn had greeted her, Evelyn kept darting glances between them, her expression brimming with barely contained excitement. Grayson’s skin prickled under her scrutiny.

“Why are you staring like that?” He shifted uncomfortably under her intense gaze.

Evelyn smiled sweetly. “I’ve never seen such a stunning young woman before. I couldn’t help but admire her a little longer.”

When Gwendolyn heard her idol complimenting her, her eyes sparkled instantly. "Ms. Sinclair, you're the one who—"

Before she could finish, Grayson—who had unmistakably detected the excitement in her tone, completely at odds with the demeanor he'd demanded—abruptly raised his hand and yanked her into his arms, displeasure written across his face. His glare was sharp enough to cut glass.

Couldn't she see I despise Evelyn? Why the hell is she being so friendly?

For a heartbeat, Gwendolyn froze. But then, like a well-trained actress slipping into character, she melted against him, playing the part of the doting, lovesick woman flawlessly.

Grayson smirked, his voice dripping with condescension. "Evelyn, your taste has always been questionable. What's so special about her? If she hadn’t clung to me like a desperate leech, acting like she’d die without me, I’d never have let her be my date. Isn’t that right?"

He arched a brow, staring pointedly at Gwendolyn, silently demanding she back him up.

With a shy, awkward nod, she played along, embodying the shameless pursuer to perfection.

Inside, though, she was seething. Hang in there. Just endure it for the sake of half a million. I’m not Gwendolyn anymore—I’m Vivian 2.0. Even if my boss is an insufferable jerk, it’s just part of the job. Stay professional. The orphanage renovations are almost funded.

Grayson, meanwhile, was absurdly pleased with her performance. A part of him even wondered if there was a shred of truth in it. Sure, his words might’ve stung, but pain was a good teacher—one that would remind her of her place.

Across from them, Evelyn’s hand had slipped to her thigh, nails digging in to keep herself from bursting into laughter.

Don’t laugh. Don’t you dare laugh. Grayson, oh Grayson, is this really how you think Vivian acted? You want her to be obsessed with you while you play the indifferent tycoon? Pathetic. The harder you try, the more pitiful you look. Then again, in your own twisted way, you’re almost romantic.