Chapter 275

Delicious Secrets Unraveled

The morning sun streamed through Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse windows, casting golden streaks across her marble countertops. She sipped her lavender-infused latte, scrolling through her phone with idle curiosity—until a particular headline made her nearly choke on her drink.

"Nathan Blackwood Spotted Leaving Luxury Hotel with Mystery Woman at 3 AM!"

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her phone. The grainy paparazzi photo showed Nathan—his signature brooding expression in place—holding the door open for a statuesque brunette. The caption speculated wildly: Is the billionaire playboy finally moving on from his rumored entanglement with rising star Evelyn Sinclair?

A scoff escaped her lips. As if.

She knew Nathan better than the tabloids ever could. That "mystery woman" was none other than his cousin, Genevieve, visiting from Switzerland. But the media loved twisting narratives, and Evelyn had learned long ago not to take gossip at face value.

Still... curiosity gnawed at her.

Tapping her manicured nails against her phone case, she opened her messages and fired off a text to Lillian Graves, her ever-reliable assistant:

"Any intel on Nathan’s ‘scandalous’ hotel rendezvous? The press is having a field day."

Lillian’s reply was instantaneous: "Already on it. Give me 10 mins."

Evelyn smirked. Lillian was a wizard at digging up the truth—often before the parties involved even realized there was a story.

Setting her phone aside, Evelyn wandered to her floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the city skyline. Her reflection stared back—flawless makeup, sleek blonde hair, a designer silk robe draped over her shoulders. The perfect image of unbothered elegance.

But beneath the surface?

Her mind raced.

What if this wasn’t just tabloid nonsense? What if Nathan was seeing someone new? The thought sent an unexpected pang through her chest—one she quickly shoved aside. They weren’t together. They’d never been together, no matter how much the media—or her traitorous heart—wished otherwise.

Her phone buzzed. Lillian’s follow-up:

"Confirmed: It’s Genevieve. They were at a family meeting with Julian and Sophia. Boring stuff—estate planning, blah blah. The ‘hotel’ was the Blackwood corporate suite. Press just loves drama."

Evelyn exhaled, tension seeping from her shoulders. Of course.

But then—another message:

"Though... you might want to check Page Six’s latest. Someone’s feeding them very specific rumors about you and Preston Whitmore."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

Preston? The director she’d had one professional dinner with?

She swiped to the tabloid—and there it was:

"Evelyn Sinclair’s Secret Romance with A-List Director Heats Up!"

The attached photo showed them laughing over wine at a dimly lit restaurant. Innocent enough—but the caption painted it as a "clandestine lovers' meeting."

Evelyn groaned.

This wasn’t just gossip.

This was a setup.

And she had a sneaking suspicion she knew exactly who’d orchestrated it...

Nathan's expression darkened the moment he caught Evelyn's thoughts about the approaching crowd coming to catch Lucas and Beatrice together.

"Evelyn," he commanded sharply, "check the door—discreetly."

Without hesitation, Evelyn darted to the entrance and cracked it open just enough to peek outside. A quick scan confirmed her fears. She snapped the door shut.

"Damn it," she hissed. "There's a whole mob heading this way. If we step out now, we're screwed."

Inside the bathroom, Lucas had heard every word. His face drained of color, a mix of fury and helplessness twisting his features.

"Why... Why is this happening?" His mind raced through the betrayals—his mother, his sister, his own family. It was enough to make his blood boil.

"Save the self-pity for later," Nathan snapped.

He knew Lucas was fighting to stay composed, but the drugs in his system made rational thought nearly impossible. If not for his iron will, Lucas would have already lost control.

Seeing him struggle, Nathan took charge.

The bathtub was now filled, water lapping at Lucas's tense body. Nathan turned off the tap and tossed him a towel.

"Bite down on this if you have to," he ordered. "Just keep quiet. The last thing we need is them knowing you're here."

Nathan's voice carried an authority that even Lucas, in his haze, couldn't ignore. He obeyed, gripping the towel between his teeth.

When Nathan stepped out, Evelyn was desperately shaking Beatrice, trying to rouse her. After a quick assessment, he said, "Hide her in the closet. We'll make it look like we're the only ones here."

Evelyn's eyes lit up with realization.

Damn, no wonder he's the boss. If the intruders found just the two of them—a married couple—they’d be too embarrassed to search further. And if they dared, Nathan’s infamous icy glare would send them running.

Nathan barely suppressed an eye roll at her train of thought.

Evelyn hauled Beatrice up and stuffed her into the nearest wardrobe. By the time she turned back, Nathan was already straightening the room. The broken vase and the blood Lucas had smeared on the floor? She shoved them out of sight just in time.

Outside, Caleb stormed down the hallway, his expression thunderous.

Then, three members of the Blackwood family intercepted him. Oddly, they didn’t seem to notice the crowd trailing behind him.

"Perfect timing. You must be Caleb, right? Have you seen our son and daughter-in-law? We've been searching everywhere for them, but their phones seem to be off. There's something urgent we need to discuss!" Richard exclaimed, his voice laced with urgency.

Margaret chimed in, wringing her hands. "I'm terribly worried. Could you perhaps use the loudspeaker to make an announcement?"

Sophia Blackwood, ever the quick thinker, added, "Maybe you could check the surveillance footage for us?"

Caleb Moore was in a rush—his blood boiled at the thought of catching the cheaters in the act. But to his frustration, these three oblivious individuals blocked his path. His temper flared, yet he dared not lash out. Their status wasn't something he could dismiss lightly, so he swallowed his rage, cursing them silently instead.

"Go bother my mother if you need help."

"The Blackwood family won’t let that traitor slip away so easily. Whatever Nathan and Evelyn are doing, they need more time."

Seizing the moment, Lydia Winters—her face tight with anxiety—stepped forward, intercepting the Blackwoods.

But no one had anticipated just how shameless Caleb could be. Desperate to achieve his goal, he abandoned all pretense of civility. Shoving past the crowd, he charged toward the break room like a man possessed, his actions mirroring those of a husband catching an unfaithful wife. The onlookers buzzed with excitement, eager for the impending scandal.

The reporters, especially, threw all decorum aside in their hunger for a juicy exposé, surging forward like vultures.

The door burst open. Without even looking, Caleb bellowed, "What the hell is going on here?"

A woman’s shrill scream pierced the air. "Ah!"

"Could that really be Lucas and Beatrice?" Luna Morgan gasped from the back of the crowd.

The expressions of the Winters and Holloway families darkened instantly. They pushed through the throng, desperate to reach the front. Lydia’s face turned stormy, and she whirled around, her gaze locking onto Penelope Collins at the rear. Just as she suspected, a cold smirk curled the woman’s lips.

Seeing that smirk, Lydia’s blood ran cold. It hit her like a slap—Penelope despised her own son to such an extent that she would orchestrate his ruin over mere superstition.

Beatrice had just become engaged to Caleb. If she were caught in a compromising situation with Lucas now, he’d be branded as the man who seduced his cousin’s fiancée. The scandal would obliterate his reputation, let alone his chances of ever inheriting the Winters family legacy.

Lydia’s heart sank. Disaster loomed, inevitable and devastating.

The spectators, meanwhile, were electrified. Whispers swelled into excited chatter, drawing even more curious onlookers.

Everyone was here for one thing—drama.

At the same time, their friends rushed forward, faces etched with concern. These two had never been tangled in scandal before. If something had truly happened, it would be catastrophic.

The atmosphere in the room shifted abruptly, turning tense and charged with an unspoken warning.

The flashes of cameras, which had been relentless moments ago, suddenly ceased as if someone had flipped a switch. A cold, suffocating aura seeped from the doorway, sending an unmistakable message—someone was furious.

Gasps rippled through the crowd as a voice, sharp as ice, sliced through the silence.

"Who gave you the right to barge in on my wife and me without knocking? Is this how the Winters family treats their guests? Get. Out."

The members of the Blackwood family and their small entourage froze. That voice—deep, commanding, and laced with barely restrained fury—could only belong to one man: Nathan Blackwood. And the softer, startled voice that had called out moments before? That had been Evelyn Sinclair's.

The reporters at the front recoiled, their faces paling. The sheer dominance radiating from Nathan made it clear—this was not a man to cross. And worse, they had just interrupted what was clearly an intimate moment between a married couple. Not a scandal. Not even close.

Panicked, they scrambled backward, clutching their cameras like lifelines.

"Delete every photo you took. Unless you'd like to explain yourselves to Blackwood Group's legal team," Nathan warned, his tone leaving no room for argument.

That single sentence sent them into a frenzy. Fingers flew over screens, hastily erasing any trace of what they'd captured. No one wanted to tangle with Blackwood Group's lawyers—unless they had a death wish.

A few of the sharper individuals in the crowd quickly pieced together who they were dealing with. Nathan Blackwood, CEO of Blackwood Group, and Evelyn Sinclair, the Justice Upholder.

Rumors of their marriage had circulated before, but many had dismissed them as baseless gossip. Now, seeing them together like this—her pressed against him, his arm wrapped protectively around her—there was no denying it.

No wonder the Justice Upholder could afford to make so many enemies without consequence. Her husband’s influence was not something to be trifled with.

"Mr. Moore has really screwed us over this time," one of them muttered under their breath. "We need to get out of here before they remember our faces."

Meanwhile, Caleb Moore, standing at the very front, gaped at the scene before him, his face draining of color.

"What the hell is going on?" Luna Morgan pushed forward, her eyes widening as she took in the sight.

There, on the couch, sat Nathan Blackwood, his arms wrapped securely around Evelyn Sinclair, who had buried her face against his shoulder, clearly shaken.

The two of them had clearly been in the middle of something private—whether a heated embrace or a stolen kiss—before being rudely interrupted. No wonder Nathan was livid.

And the worst part?

The room was empty except for them.

No scandal. No secret rendezvous. Just a married couple who had been very clearly enjoying each other’s company before being ambushed.

This was not the explosive revelation Caleb had promised.

And now, judging by the murderous glint in Nathan’s eyes, someone was about to pay for it.