Chapter 21

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she paced the length of her living room, her phone pressed tightly to her ear.

"Serena, I need you to handle this immediately," Evelyn demanded, her voice sharp with urgency.

On the other end, her agent, Serena Whitmore, sighed. "Evelyn, I understand your frustration, but pulling out of the gala last-minute isn’t going to help your image."

Evelyn clenched her jaw. "I don’t care about my image right now. Not after what Nathan did."

The memory of last night’s argument with Nathan Blackwood still burned fresh in her mind. His cold dismissal, the way he had turned away as if she were nothing more than an inconvenience.

Serena hesitated. "Look, I get it. But the press is already speculating about tension between you two. If you don’t show up tonight, they’ll assume the worst."

Evelyn exhaled sharply, her fingers tightening around her phone. "Fine. I’ll go. But I swear, if Nathan so much as looks at me—"

A knock at the door interrupted her.

"Hold on," she muttered, striding toward the entrance.

When she swung the door open, she froze.

Nathan stood there, his dark eyes unreadable, his usual composed demeanor replaced with something far more unsettling—regret.

"Evelyn," he said quietly. "We need to talk."

Her pulse spiked. "You have five minutes."

Behind her, Serena’s voice crackled through the phone. "Evelyn? What’s happening?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she kept her gaze locked on Nathan, her heart pounding in her chest.

Because despite everything, despite the anger and the hurt, a traitorous part of her still ached for him.

And that was the most dangerous thing of all.

The grand ballroom of the Blackwood estate shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, but Evelyn Sinclair felt none of its warmth. Her fingers trembled around the stem of her champagne flute as she watched Nathan Blackwood across the room, his tall frame commanding attention even in the sea of elite guests.

Victoria Hayes, ever the viper in silk, leaned too close to him, her crimson lips brushing his ear as she whispered something that made his jaw tighten. Evelyn’s stomach twisted. She had seen the signs for weeks—his late nights, the hushed phone calls, the way he’d grown distant.

Serena Whitmore, her ever-loyal agent, nudged her elbow. "You’re glaring, darling. Breathe."

Evelyn forced a smile, but it felt brittle. "I’m fine."

She wasn’t.

The orchestra swelled into a waltz, and Nathan finally turned, his storm-gray eyes locking onto hers. He excused himself from Victoria and strode toward her, his steps deliberate. Every woman in the room tracked his movement, but Evelyn stood frozen, her pulse a frantic drumbeat.

"May I have this dance?" His voice was low, rough with something she couldn’t name.

She should refuse. But the part of her still in love with him—the foolish, hopeful part—nodded.

His hand settled at her waist, warm and familiar, yet it burned like betrayal. They moved in sync, their bodies remembering what their hearts no longer trusted.

"You’ve been avoiding me," he murmured.

Her laugh was sharp. "Funny. I was about to say the same to you."

His grip tightened. "Evelyn—"

"Don’t." She pulled back just enough to meet his gaze. "I know about Victoria."

A flicker of guilt darkened his expression before he schooled it into cool indifference. "It’s not what you think."

"Really?" Her voice cracked. "Then tell me, Nathan. What is it?"

The music crescendoed, drowning out his reply. But she didn’t need to hear it. The truth was in the way his eyes darted to Victoria, in the way he couldn’t hold her stare.

Evelyn stepped out of his arms, the weight of her engagement ring suddenly unbearable. With a deep breath, she slid it off and pressed it into his palm.

"We’re done."

The gasps around them were a distant hum. Nathan’s face paled. "You don’t mean that."

She turned before he could see her tears. "I’ve never meant anything more."

The crowd parted as she walked away, their whispers chasing her like shadows. But Evelyn didn’t look back.

Some vows weren’t meant to last.

The intruder was none other than Vincent Holloway, the infamous playboy of high society.

With nothing but a moderately handsome face to his name, Vincent was the epitome of a spoiled, worthless heir. His reputation was stained with countless scandals, and he was practically on first-name terms with the local police.

No rumor about him could shock anyone anymore.

But today, the Blackwood family was hosting the event. For Vincent to cause a scene here was nothing short of a deliberate insult.

His aunt and uncle, the Holloways’ representatives, immediately rushed forward to restrain him. "We allowed you to come, but we never permitted you to make trouble!" his aunt Daphne hissed. "Vincent had too much to drink. We’ll take him home immediately."

Vincent, however, shoved them aside. Still fuming from his previous humiliation at Julian’s hands—and Celeste’s public dismissal—he had just received another piece of infuriating news. Downing bottle after bottle of liquor, his rage only grew, until he stormed back into the venue, reckless with intoxication.

He strode straight toward the Cowell family, flashing a smug grin at the stunned Edward and Penelope. "Mr. and Mrs. Cowell," he slurred, "since you're reconsidering marriage arrangements, why not settle mine with Celeste tonight? Everyone’s already here."

His malicious gaze then locked onto Celeste.

For a moment, Celeste’s mind went blank. She didn’t look at Vincent. Instead, her eyes flickered to Isabelle, who was cowering behind her parents.

Isabelle’s face paled, her eyes darting nervously. The moment she noticed Celeste watching her, she flinched and looked away, guilt written all over her.

Just as Vincent reached for Celeste’s wrist, a strong hand intercepted his, gripping it tightly.

Drunk and reckless, Vincent glared at the man stopping him. "Back off, Julian," he sneered. "I don’t even mind taking your leftovers. You should be thanking me!"

"Have you lost your damn mind?" Julian snarled, his fist already flying.

His emotions were already a tangled mess, his frustration boiling over like a caged beast. And now, Vincent had the audacity to provoke him further. Without hesitation, Julian’s punch sent Vincent crashing to the floor.

He was about to strike again when Celeste grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Julian turned, his fury clashing with her icy indifference—as if she didn’t want his interference.

At that moment, her expression was frigid, her gaze locked onto Vincent with unsettling calm.

And in that instant, Julian felt something inside him twist painfully.

Though the Blackwood family was furious with Vincent's behavior, they couldn't simply stand by and watch their own be humiliated.

"What in the world are you doing? Vincent is clearly intoxicated. Resorting to violence—is this how the Holloways treat their guests?" Daphne, Vincent's aunt, snapped, her voice trembling with barely contained rage.

"We, the Holloways, have extended nothing but hospitality, yet you've turned our home into a spectacle. Is this how the Blackwoods conduct themselves as guests?" Margaret countered, her tone icy. "And let's not forget the disgraceful insults."

Daphne's face flushed crimson. "Mrs. Holloway, let's not dance around the issue. You want to call off Celeste's engagement, don't you? Then this matter should be between Vincent and Celeste. It was Julian who interfered. Besides, Vincent merely proposed—he hasn't done anything more!"

Margaret let out a sharp, humorless laugh. "Don't you think Vincent is being rather… presumptuous?"

Daphne faltered. After all, the engagement between the Holloway and Cowell families hadn’t been formally dissolved yet. If scrutinized, Vincent’s reckless proposal could be seen as an outright insult—a slap in the face to the Holloways.

"Now, now, we’re all friends here," Edward interjected smoothly, stepping forward as the mediator. "There’s no need for a little spat between the youngsters to ruin our relationships. Let’s all take a breath. This is entirely my daughter’s fault."

Penelope quickly chimed in, her expression shifting from confusion to a practiced smile. "Celeste should never have entertained Mr. Holloway while still engaged. But perhaps this is fate’s way of setting things right. Why don’t we all sit down and discuss this properly?"

The Cowells were in no position to offend either the Holloways or the Blackwoods.

They had assumed breaking off the engagement would be the end of it. But now, another marriage proposal had landed in their laps—this time from the Blackwoods.

It was an unexpected windfall. And a perfect opportunity to silence those who accused Edward and Penelope of favoring Isabelle over Celeste.

The lingering guests, who had been reluctant to leave, were now thoroughly invested in the drama of two sisters entangled with two powerful men.

But then, the situation took an even more unexpected turn.

"Seems fortune has smiled upon your family today," one guest remarked with a knowing smirk. "Since we’re all here, let’s have the three families bear witness. Don’t forget to send us invitations for the celebration!"

"Indeed," another added. "Everyone’s found their perfect match. Though you youngsters do love stirring up trouble—still, this is a blessing in disguise."

Celeste and Vincent, both notorious for their scandals, were now paired together. Meanwhile, Isabelle and Julian—both paragons of grace—made a flawless couple.

Everything had fallen into place.

And the guests? They were merely there to revel in the spectacle.

If this triple alliance succeeded, business strategies across the elite circles would need some… adjustments.

But beneath the surface, tensions simmered.

Because in high society, nothing was ever as simple as it seemed.

Having insider knowledge proved invaluable.

Nathan observed everything from the sidelines while Evelyn beside him was practically vibrating with excitement. Holy hell! This is scandalous gold!

Her outburst momentarily diverted the Blackwood family's attention. Still, they had to focus on Julian's life-altering situation.

Richard and Margaret exchanged glances before continuing the discussion. Protective as they were, they had no intention of creating an impasse.

The tension in the room had escalated, drawing every guest's rapt attention. It was crucial to resolve this immediately before rumors spiraled out of control.

Richard cleared his throat. "Since the truth is out, we won't conceal it any longer. The engagement was an old-family promise. But modern youth value autonomy in love. The Blackwoods won't force our son's hand."

Margaret added pointedly, "We only hope young people make choices they won't regret."

Their gazes lingered on Julian meaningfully.

After discovering the Cowells' deception, their disdain for Isabelle, Edward, and Penelope burned fiercely. Claiming credit for another's sacrifice? Disgusting.

Yet matters of the heart were personal. Julian knew the truth now. Whether he believed it was his choice. But how did Celeste get entangled with Vincent? A shame. No matter.

They left Julian to his thoughts, ears straining toward Evelyn's ongoing commentary.

Gasp! No way! You're kidding! Damn! This can't be real!

The Blackwoods mentally groaned. Stop teasing and just tell us already!

But Julian remained oblivious to Evelyn's theatrics, his mind in turmoil.

Edward and Penelope, however, swooped in cheerfully. "How progressive of the Blackwoods! Julian, darling, don't you agree?"

They shoved Isabelle forward, blind to her mortified expression.

Julian's lips parted, the burning question on his tongue—Who really saved me that night? But did it even matter now?

Gratitude isn't love. Maybe she lied because she loved me too much. Then why can't I speak?

His hesitation cast a pall over the room. Whispers erupted. A twist! How delicious!

Isabelle, unable to bear the silence, tugged Julian's sleeve desperately. "Julian..."

He blinked at her—the woman he'd adored for years—then at Celeste, so familiar yet suddenly a stranger.

Meanwhile, the Blackwoods, too engrossed in eavesdropping, missed Julian's inner turmoil.

His breath hitched as he noticed Celeste's retreating figure. Is she... leaving me?

An inexplicable ache bloomed in his chest—one he didn't understand.

"Celeste, don't be difficult," Edward snapped. "We'll handle the Holloways. Greed doesn't become you."

Penelope added coldly, "We know you resent Isabelle, but this is her happiness. The Blackwoods have spoken. Julian refuses to marry you. Must you humiliate yourself further?"

Their cruelty rolled off Celeste like rain off stone. Their words couldn't hurt her anymore.

"Today," she announced, voice steady, "I formally end our engagement." A weight lifted as she smiled. "Julian, I don't want you anymore."

The words struck like a physical blow. Julian swayed, a piece of his soul tearing away.

Julian stood frozen in place.

This was supposed to be the moment he had been waiting for—the end of his torment. Yet instead of relief, he felt trapped in a nightmare.

While the guests exchanged surprised glances, none dwelled on it too deeply. They assumed Celeste must have truly been involved with Vincent, which explained her decisive breakup.

Edward, Penelope, and Isabelle exhaled in relief.

Evelyn smirked inwardly. The Cowells are all hypocrites. They know exactly where Celeste’s heart lies, yet they pretend ignorance. They pressured her endlessly at Eleanor’s place, but she always refused. She let Isabelle take everything from her—except Julian. And now, she’s given him up too. She’s truly let go.

Julian is such a fool. He lost a diamond while chasing pebbles. He’ll regret this.

When the Blackwoods caught Evelyn’s thoughts, they stiffened. So Celeste still has feelings for Julian?

Julian’s lips trembled. That’s right. She loved me. But now, she’s moved on. Of course she has—she’s with someone else.

Yet the memory of Celeste’s shattered expression when she denied her involvement flashed through his mind.

A hand clapped his shoulder, snapping him back to reality.

Julian blinked, realizing the Cowells were staring at him expectantly—waiting for him to announce his engagement to Isabelle.

But he remained silent. Something felt wrong. A deep, gnawing regret twisted inside him.

Vincent, however, couldn’t hide his smug satisfaction. He sauntered toward Celeste, grinning. "Finally came to your senses, huh? From now on, you’re my fiancée."

Julian’s fingers curled into fists, his gaze snapping toward Celeste.

But she didn’t even glance his way. Instead, she fixed Vincent with an icy stare, lips curling in disdain. "Who the hell are you? Do I know you? Open your eyes—I, Celeste, have never met you in private. You’ve been spreading lies about us, and I will sue you for defamation."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Oh, this just got interesting.

The Blackwoods, initially confused, quickly pieced together Evelyn’s thoughts. Celeste is telling the truth. Wait—so Vincent fabricated everything?

Julian’s mind reeled. The scene in the garden replayed in his head.

The moment Julian saw the devastation in Celeste's eyes, his world tilted on its axis.

Her gaze held a depth of anguish so profound it stole his breath away. The engagement ring in his palm suddenly felt like a lead weight, its diamond catching the light with cruel irony. Sweat slicked his fingers as his grip tightened unconsciously.

A choked whisper escaped Celeste's lips. "You can't mean this."

Julian's throat worked, but no words came. The gilded walls of the Blackwood estate seemed to press in around them, the grandfather clock's ticking an ominous countdown to ruin.

Across the room, Isabelle stood frozen near the grand piano, her twin's distress mirrored in her own features. The scent of wilting gardenias from the centerpiece hung heavy between them.

"You promised," Celeste breathed, her voice fracturing like thin ice. The lace of her Valentino dress trembled with each shallow breath.

Somewhere downstairs, a door slammed. The sound jolted Julian into motion. He reached for her, but Celeste recoiled as if burned.

The movement sent his world crashing down.