Chapter 272

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 exhaled sharply, running a hand through her tousled auburn hair. The weight of the upcoming meeting pressed on her shoulders like an invisible burden.

Nathan Blackwood’s deep voice echoed in her mind—"You’re overthinking this, Evelyn. Just trust your instincts."

She scoffed, picking up her phone to reread the message from Preston Whitmore, the director of her next project.

Preston: "We need to discuss the final revisions. The studio wants changes—especially for the third act."

Evelyn’s fingers hovered over the screen. Changes. Again. She had fought for this script, poured her soul into it, and now they wanted to alter the heart of the story.

A knock at the door startled her.

"Come in," she called, setting her phone aside.

Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant, stepped inside, balancing a tray with a steaming cup of coffee and a stack of documents. "Morning, Evelyn. You look like you’ve been wrestling with your thoughts all night."

Evelyn accepted the coffee with a grateful sigh. "More like wrestling with studio executives in my dreams."

Lillian smirked. "Well, brace yourself. Marcus Donovan just called. He’s on his way up."

Evelyn’s brows shot up. "Julian’s agent? Why?"

Before Lillian could answer, the elevator dinged, and Marcus strode in, his tailored suit immaculate, his expression unreadable.

"Evelyn," he greeted smoothly. "We have a situation."

She crossed her arms. "What kind of situation?"

Marcus handed her a tablet. On the screen was a tabloid headline:

"Nathan Blackwood Spotted with Vanessa Sterling—Is Evelyn Sinclair Out of the Picture?"

Evelyn’s stomach twisted, but she schooled her features into indifference. "And?"

Marcus’s gaze sharpened. "And Julian thinks this could affect investor confidence in your joint project. The last thing we need is bad press derailing everything."

Evelyn set the tablet down with deliberate calm. "Tell Julian not to worry. My personal life won’t interfere with my work."

Marcus studied her for a beat before nodding. "Good. Because the studio’s already skittish. One wrong move, and they might pull the plug."

As he turned to leave, Evelyn’s phone buzzed. A message from Nathan:

"We need to talk."

Her fingers tightened around the device.

Lillian cleared her throat. "Should I reschedule your meeting with Preston?"

Evelyn shook her head. "No. Let’s handle one fire at a time."

But as she glanced back at the tabloid photo—Nathan’s arm draped casually around Vanessa’s waist—a quiet storm brewed inside her.

Trust your instincts, he had said.

But right now, she wasn’t sure she trusted him.

"Tsk, tsk. Poor thing," Evelyn murmured under her breath, her fingers tightening around her champagne flute.

The others nearby had no idea she was actually referring to Lucas.

"Right?" Vivian chimed in, tossing her sleek auburn hair over one shoulder. "I feel sorry that Beatrice is doomed to marry such a man. Honestly, I’d love to crash their engagement party." A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes. "Maybe I should hire a few gorgeous models to sweep Beatrice off her feet—save her from that walking disaster."

Nathan scoffed, swirling his drink. "Beatrice wouldn’t give you the time of day."

Vivian rolled her eyes. "She told me she and Caleb are just a business arrangement. They’re even planning to use a surrogate for kids."

"You’re not wrong. Beatrice has… particular standards," Marcus added dryly.

This was news to Evelyn, and a weight she hadn’t realized she was carrying lifted slightly. At least now she knew Beatrice wasn’t some innocent girl ruined by a snake.

Still, watching the two exchange rings and fake smiles was nauseating.

Then Caleb took the microphone, his voice dripping with rehearsed charm.

"I’m beyond thrilled to be engaged to Beatrice. This is the first step toward our lifelong happiness together."

Evelyn nearly choked on her drink. Since when did he become such a smooth talker? I expected him to embarrass himself in front of everyone.

Caleb turned to Beatrice, his gaze unnervingly intense. "Beatrice, from this moment on, you are officially mine."

The possessive edge in his voice made Beatrice stiffen. This wasn’t part of their agreement—their relationship was supposed to be strictly professional. But she played along, forcing a smile as he pulled her into a stiff embrace.

Evelyn’s grip on her glass turned white-knuckled.

Then, without warning, Nathan turned to Vivian. "Vivian, lend me your sunglasses."

Vivian’s oversized shades were practically a part of her face today, a bold fashion statement she hadn’t removed indoors. She blinked at Nathan’s sudden request but handed them over without question.

In one swift motion, Nathan slid them onto Evelyn’s face, shielding her from the sickening display in front of them.

Evelyn exhaled sharply. Good. I don’t have to watch this farce anymore.

"There are reporters here," Nathan murmured, his displeasure evident.

Evelyn blinked in surprise.

It wasn’t that she feared being photographed. At past events, credentialed reporters had always been present, discreet and professional. But today, she hadn’t spotted a single one, leading her to assume the Blackwoods didn’t engage with the media in such settings.

Unauthorized photos, however, were a different beast—ripe for manipulation, for twisting narratives. Isabelle Laurent had warned her: If you sense paparazzi, cover your face. It makes damage control easier.

Yet Evelyn hadn’t noticed a thing. Nathan, though not an artist, had sharper instincts.

"Where?" she asked, keeping her sunglasses firmly in place.

"What? Paparazzi? Since when does the Blackwood family allow this? No one warned us!"

Their small group stiffened in alarm.

Nathan’s frown deepened. "Lucas didn’t arrange this. It’s Caleb. His business partners’ table—they’re filming covertly."

Eyes flicked toward the indicated group. Sure enough, several guests cradled devices in their arms, lenses subtly angled, capturing footage without permission.

"What’s Caleb playing at? Why the secrecy?" Marcus Prescott muttered, baffled.

Nathan didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled out his phone and dialed Lucas, relaying the situation in clipped tones.

The ceremony had ended, the toast concluded. The moment Lucas received the message, he sought out Ava.

Within minutes, Ava summoned Caleb for an explanation.

"What’s the issue? Can’t I document my own engagement?" Caleb’s tone was defensive, bordering on petulant. "You might dismiss my company, but I’ve poured everything into it, Mother."

Ava exhaled, rubbing her temples. It was always like this—she could guide empires, yet her own son remained an enigma wrapped in rebellion.

"Tattling to my mother again? Pathetic," Caleb sneered at Lucas, who ignored him, long accustomed to empty threats.

"Enough," Ava cut in, weariness lacing her voice. "Today is important. If you insist on filming, one rule: no footage of the guests."

Caleb shrugged, as if it were obvious. "Wasn’t planning to."

Seeing his unexpected compliance, Evelyn let out a quiet sigh of relief. Then, as if struck by a sudden thought, she gestured for Nathan to step away first, signaling she needed a private word with Caleb.

But Caleb’s expression was already darkening with impatience. "What?"

Evelyn had intended to soften her tone, but his sharp response made her hesitate. "I know you and Nathan have always clashed, and I understand why you feel the way you do," she began carefully. "But you must remember—we’re family. I could never favor him over you. The only reason I’ve invested more in him is because he has the skills to carry the Blackwood legacy."

She believed herself to be fair, even logical, yet Caleb’s face twisted further. "So, in your eyes, I’ll never measure up to him, is that it?"

Evelyn didn’t understand his resentment. She had built an empire while her husband remained content in the background, never once complaining. Everyone had their strengths—why must they compete? Their marriage had thrived on balance, yet their son seemed determined to wage war.

"You have your own talents," she said gently, not wanting to escalate tensions, especially not today. "Once Nathan takes over, you’ll have the freedom to pursue whatever you want. That’s not a bad compromise, is it?"

Caleb’s control snapped. "So, it’s official then? They’re announcing him as the heir today, and you’re here to soften the blow for me first?"

"This was a decision made by the entire family council."

Caleb refused to accept it. In his mind, if Evelyn had just supported him instead of Nathan, the title would have been his. Ability didn’t matter—he deserved it. It was Nathan’s existence that held him back, and the world’s refusal to see his worth.

Fine. If they won’t give me what’s mine, I’ll drag them all down with me.

He smirked, cold and bitter. "Nathan might not be the golden boy you think he is. Just don’t come crying to me when you regret choosing him."

Without another word, he turned and walked away.

Meanwhile, Nathan had already circled back to Lucas. He knew the man well enough to guess his concern—his celebrity wife. Quickly, he reassured him that no photos of the guests would be taken.

Yet Lucas still didn’t let Evelyn remove her sunglasses.

"What’s his game?" Vivian muttered. "Using his own engagement party as free publicity for his company? Is he really that desperate?"

"If they’re not photographing guests, why all the secrecy?" Marcus questioned, frowning.

"Something’s not right," Vivian agreed, her instincts prickling.

After a brief pause, Daniel turned to Nathan with a thoughtful expression. "Do you think they got caught in the act and panicked, making up some ridiculous excuse on the spot? Though I doubt they'll be bold enough to try anything like this again."

Evelyn studied Nathan's face intently, her curiosity piqued.

The man's brows knitted together in suspicion. "It's not that straightforward. He's invested too much time and effort into setting this up—there must be something more behind it."

Given the circumstances, further investigation was necessary.

Evelyn's mind raced. Not only is Caleb carrying on his affair at his own engagement party, but he's also scheming something else? Let me think... He invited those reporters primarily to... Wait—to expose his own infidelity?!