Chapter 277

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 sighed, running a hand through her tousled auburn hair as she reread the same line for the fifth time.

Why can’t I focus?

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. A message from Nathan Blackwood flashed on the screen:

"Meeting at 10. Don’t be late."

Evelyn rolled her eyes. As if she needed the reminder. The Blackwood Media merger was the biggest deal of her career, and Nathan’s constant micromanaging was grating on her last nerve.

She tossed the phone aside and stood, stretching. The penthouse was too quiet—too empty. Even the luxurious silence felt oppressive.

A knock at the door startled her.

"Who is it?" she called, padding barefoot across the marble floor.

"Lillian," came the muffled reply.

Evelyn opened the door to find her assistant, Lillian Graves, holding two steaming cups of coffee and a file tucked under her arm.

"You look like you need this," Lillian said, handing her a cup.

Evelyn took it gratefully, the rich aroma of espresso grounding her. "Bless you."

Lillian smirked. "I also brought the revised contract. Nathan’s lawyers made more changes."

Evelyn groaned. "Of course they did."

She flipped open the file, scanning the highlighted sections. Her grip tightened on the cup.

"He can’t be serious."

Lillian winced. "He is. Clause 12-B now states that any creative decisions regarding your projects require his approval."

Evelyn’s blood boiled. "That wasn’t part of the deal."

Lillian hesitated. "He says it’s non-negotiable."

Evelyn set the coffee down with a sharp clink. "We’ll see about that."

Nathan Blackwood leaned back in his leather chair, watching the cityscape through his office windows. The view from the 50th floor was impressive, but his mind was elsewhere.

His intercom buzzed.

"Sir, Evelyn Sinclair is here," his secretary, Victoria Hayes, announced.

Nathan smirked. "Send her in."

The door swung open, and Evelyn stormed in, her emerald eyes blazing. She slammed the contract onto his desk.

"Explain this."

Nathan didn’t flinch. "It’s standard."

"Standard?" Evelyn scoffed. "Since when does standard mean handing over creative control?"

Nathan stood, his towering frame casting a shadow over her. "Since I’m the one funding your next film."

Evelyn crossed her arms. "Then maybe I’ll find another investor."

Nathan’s smirk faded. "You won’t. Not after what happened with Holloway Pictures."

Evelyn stiffened. How did he know about that?

Nathan circled his desk, stopping inches from her. "Sign the contract, Evelyn. Or walk away and lose everything."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. She’d worked too hard to let him bulldoze her.

But before she could retort, her phone rang.

Unknown caller.

She hesitated, then answered.

A distorted voice hissed through the line:

"You shouldn’t have trusted him."

The call disconnected.

Evelyn’s breath caught. Nathan’s gaze sharpened.

"Who was that?"

She swallowed hard. "No one."

But the warning echoed in her mind.

What game was Nathan really playing?

And more importantly—who else was involved?

They weren't insane—just bolder than most.

#MissionAccomplished

Pain was a small price to pay if it meant destroying their enemy. The end justified the means.

Evelyn's brows furrowed in confusion, prompting Nathan to explain.

"If this scandal goes public, even if Beatrice and Lucas expose Caleb, it won’t matter. Because regardless of manipulation, something did happen between Lucas and Beatrice. Remember how Caleb behaved during the engagement?"

A spark of realization lit Evelyn's eyes. "If this had occurred before the engagement, they could’ve spun it as mutual affection. But now? Their status changed. This isn’t just a mistake—it’s betrayal."

Nathan nodded. "Even if the Bennett family learns Lucas was framed, they won’t risk further scandal. They’ll have to choose which son to protect. With Lucas already compromised, they’ll side with the 'victim'—Caleb. As for Beatrice? She’ll be discarded like yesterday’s news. The Holloways won’t have a say. Justice is irrelevant when family reputation is at stake."

Evelyn’s chest tightened. "They’re monsters. Targeting Lucas is one thing, but ruining an innocent woman for their schemes? Do they have no shame?"

Nathan’s lips curled into a cold smirk. "Shame is a luxury they can’t afford."

"Now that we’ve stopped it, can’t we expose the truth?" Evelyn clenched her fists. She refused to let them win.

Nathan shrugged. "That’s their battle to fight."

A vibration cut through the tension—Nathan’s phone. He glanced at the screen, then strode to the window. Shadows shifted, and three figures slipped inside: Vivian, Daniel, and a doctor.

Vivian rushed to Beatrice’s side, lifting her limp form. Seeing her unconscious, she slammed a fist into the mattress. "I’ll skin those bastards alive."

The examination was swift. A single injection, and Beatrice stirred.

Lucas required more care. After sedation, the doctor tended to his wounds.

By the time Lucas stabilized, Beatrice was awake—and furious. She bolted upright, senses sharpened by adrenaline. The unnatural sleep had been a red flag. Now, every nerve screamed danger.

The bizarre situation made her face pale instantly. "What's wrong with me?"

Evelyn quickly explained everything that had happened, then asked pointedly, "It was Caleb who drugged you, wasn't it?"

Beatrice's face drained of all color, her body trembling violently. Clenching her fists, she whispered, "Yes."

Just as she was about to speak, a pained groan echoed from the bathroom.

Beatrice stiffened, her expression turning even more ashen.

Evelyn, assuming she was worried about that matter, reassured her gently, "You're completely unharmed. Trust me, he restrained himself."

Vivian, ever the joker, smirked and quipped, "Does Caleb even know Lucas's preferences?"

Evelyn choked on air, whipping her head toward Vivian.

Daniel, who had been discussing the situation outside with Nathan, froze mid-sentence. He shot Vivian an exasperated look. "Don't spread rumors. Lucas doesn’t like men."

Vivian shrugged, unfazed. "Isn’t it obvious? The guy’s been single forever. I’ve always suspected he’s secretly crushing on someone in our circle. Probably stayed single because he knew he couldn’t have them."

Then, with a mischievous grin, she turned to Evelyn. "Honestly? I think it’s your husband."

Evelyn couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.

Vivian’s got half of it right, she thought, amused. He did have feelings for someone in the group, and he stayed single because he knew they were unattainable. But… oh, she’s so off the mark! If Caleb had this kind of imagination, maybe tonight’s victim would’ve been one of the guys instead. Hah!

Nathan just sighed. This woman’s imagination is something else.

"What’s so funny? You think my theory’s ridiculous?" Vivian pointed at Beatrice. "She’s living proof. Even drugged, he’d rather hurt himself than touch her. If that’s not proof he’s into men, what is? I can’t think of any other explanation."

Evelyn bit back another laugh. Or maybe it’s because he cares too much? Because he couldn’t bear seeing the disgust in Beatrice’s eyes if he hurt her.

"Is… is that so?" she managed between giggles. "Guess I’ll have to keep a closer eye on my husband from now on."

Vivian cackled, and even Daniel couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

Nathan just shook his head in disbelief.

The lighthearted banter helped ease the tension, and Beatrice gradually relaxed. As for Vivian’s wild speculations? She didn’t believe a word of it—she knew Lucas’s character better than that.

A sudden commotion erupted from the restroom area. The doctor's urgent voice summoned them inside.

Nathan swiftly assisted Lucas Thornton, now dressed in fresh clothes, to emerge from the bathroom. Though exhaustion lined Lucas's face, his first instinct was to search for Beatrice Holloway in the crowd.

That single glance sent an electric jolt through Beatrice. Her pupils dilated as if struck by lightning, a dawning realization flickering behind her eyes. Somewhere deep within her heart, a seed of possibility took root.

"Beatrice, you're unharmed?" Lucas's voice came out rough with concern. "I swear nothing inappropriate happened between us."

Beatrice gave a slow nod, her gaze hardening like tempered steel. "I've pieced together what occurred," she stated coldly. "Regardless of consequences, I won't let this slide."

Lucas hesitated, the memory of his earlier desperation flooding back. His jaw tightened with resolve. "I... agree. But you must understand - if we go public with this—"

"I don't give a damn about scandals or whispers!" Beatrice snapped, her designer heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "No one humiliates me and walks away unscathed."

Their eyes locked in silent understanding before Lucas finally inclined his head.

Evelyn Sinclair observed the exchange with barely concealed amusement. Oh, this was getting delicious.

A tap on her shoulder interrupted her thoughts. Turning, she found Vivian Moore studying her with newfound respect.

"There's something extraordinary about you," Vivian murmured, eyes glittering with excitement. "Following you always leads to the juiciest dramas."

Evelyn arched an eyebrow. Was that... a compliment?

The subsequent events unfolded like a well-choreographed play, with Lucas and Beatrice retreating to the wings, allowing their carefully laid plans to take center stage.

Emerging into the ballroom, they discovered the search party had returned empty-handed. Tension crackled in the air, especially after the discovery of a suspiciously disheveled private room bearing all the hallmarks of an illicit rendezvous.

Caleb Moore and Luna Morgan exchanged smug glances, their triumphant expressions suggesting they'd already won. The simultaneous disappearance of two prominent figures under such compromising circumstances had even the most skeptical guests whispering behind their hands.

Penelope Collins's face darkened like a gathering storm—until Evelyn and Nathan materialized in the grand hall.

Then, the call finally connected.

"Father?" Beatrice's voice rang clear and composed through the speaker. "Why the incessant calls? Is something wrong?"