Chapter 28

The moment Evelyn Sinclair stepped into the grand ballroom, all eyes turned toward her. The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the room, but none of it compared to the way she carried herself—graceful, poised, and effortlessly radiant.

Nathan Blackwood stood near the balcony doors, a glass of whiskey in hand, his sharp gaze tracking her every move. He hadn’t expected her to attend tonight’s event, not after their last heated argument. Yet here she was, dressed in a midnight-blue gown that clung to her curves, her dark hair cascading over one shoulder like a silken waterfall.

Victoria Hayes, his ever-watchful secretary, leaned in with a smirk. "She looks stunning, doesn’t she?"

Nathan didn’t respond, but his fingers tightened around his glass.

Across the room, Evelyn felt the weight of his stare. She refused to glance his way, focusing instead on the conversation with Serena Whitmore, her agent.

"You’re making quite the entrance," Serena murmured, sipping her champagne.

Evelyn smiled, though it didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m here for the charity auction, not for him."

Serena arched a brow. "Then why did you wear that dress?"

Before Evelyn could retort, the host announced the start of the auction. The first item—a rare diamond necklace—was displayed, and bidding began.

Nathan’s deep voice cut through the murmurs. "Fifty thousand."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Evelyn clenched her jaw. Of course he’d do this—flaunt his wealth, remind everyone of his power. She raised her hand. "Sixty."

His eyes locked onto hers, a challenge burning in them. "Seventy."

The room held its breath.

Evelyn’s pulse raced. This wasn’t just about the necklace anymore. It was about pride, about proving she wouldn’t back down.

"Eighty," she countered.

A slow, dangerous smile curved Nathan’s lips. "One hundred."

Silence.

Then, the host stammered, "S-Sold to Mr. Blackwood!"

Evelyn turned away, her cheeks flushed with frustration. She didn’t see Nathan’s expression darken as she strode toward the exit.

But he wasn’t done.

Before she could leave, his hand caught her wrist, pulling her into a secluded alcove.

"What do you think you’re doing?" she hissed.

Nathan’s voice was low, rough. "You wanted the necklace?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out the glittering diamonds. "Take it."

She recoiled. "I don’t want your pity."

"It’s not pity." His thumb brushed her pulse point, sending a shiver down her spine. "It’s an apology."

Evelyn froze.

For the first time, she saw something raw in his eyes—regret.

The moment stretched between them, charged and uncertain.

Then, footsteps approached.

Victoria’s voice rang out, sharp and impatient. "Nathan, they’re waiting for you."

He didn’t move, his gaze still locked on Evelyn.

She stepped back, her heart pounding. "Go."

Nathan hesitated, then finally released her. But as he walked away, he left the necklace in her palm.

Evelyn stared at it, her emotions in turmoil.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

The studio lights burned brighter than usual that afternoon, casting harsh shadows across Evelyn Sinclair's face as she stood frozen behind the velvet curtains. Her manicured nails dug into her palms as she watched the scene unfold on set - Nathan Blackwood leaning dangerously close to Seraphina Delacroix, his fingers brushing a stray lock of hair from her shoulder with practiced ease.

"Cut!" Preston Whitmore's voice cracked through the tension like a whip. "Let's reset for take twelve."

Evelyn's assistant Lillian Graves materialized at her elbow, pressing an iced latte into her trembling hands. "You look like you've seen a ghost," Lillian murmured. "Should I call your agent?"

Before Evelyn could respond, a commotion erupted near craft services. Sebastian Hart, Seraphina's notoriously volatile ex, had just stormed onto set, his designer sunglasses doing little to conceal the fury twisting his handsome features.

"Interesting timing," Nathan's brother Julian remarked, appearing suddenly at Evelyn's other side. His smirk was all sharp edges. "Just when the tabloids started running those photos of you and my brother at the gala last night."

Evelyn's stomach dropped. She'd seen the headlines - "Blackwood's New Muse?" splashed across every entertainment site that morning. The staged paparazzi shots had been Serena Whitmore's idea, part of some convoluted PR strategy for Nathan's upcoming film.

Across the soundstage, Nathan finally noticed her presence. His gaze locked onto hers with startling intensity, even as Seraphina whispered something that made him laugh. The sound grated against Evelyn's nerves like sandpaper.

"Five minutes!" the assistant director called.

Lillian squeezed Evelyn's arm. "You okay to do this scene?"

Evelyn straightened her shoulders, channeling every ounce of her Juilliard training. "Darling," she said with a brittle smile, "I was born ready."

But as she stepped into the blinding lights, Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just another scene. The air crackled with unspoken tensions - between her and Nathan, between Sebastian and Seraphina, between the carefully constructed facades and the messy truths lurking beneath.

Somewhere in the shadows, a camera flash went off. Evelyn forced her lips into a flawless smile. Let them take their pictures. The real drama was just beginning.

After sending Nathan a quick text, Evelyn slipped into the sleek black SUV arranged by the agency.

Within minutes, Marcus Donovan arrived with the new assistant, Lillian Graves, and the styling team at the luxurious Silvinubis Hotel in the neighboring city.

The fanfare surrounding Evelyn’s arrival was so extravagant that onlookers might have mistaken her for Julian Blackwood himself. When an industry acquaintance approached to greet them, their jaw nearly dropped at the sight of the breathtaking woman beside Marcus.

Those in the know were aware that Julian had recently ended things with Isabelle. No one expected him to replace her so swiftly—and with a woman escorted by his personal team, no less. This was gossip gold.

Sharp-eyed attendees might have recognized Evelyn from Quirk Group’s billboards and magazine spreads, making her sudden appearance with Julian’s entourage even more intriguing.

"Marcus, long time no see! Where’s Mr. Blackwood been hiding lately? And who’s this stunning companion?"

"This is Evelyn Sinclair, our agency’s newest talent. I trust everyone will give her a warm welcome."

"Come on, Marcus, don’t hold out on us. What’s her connection to Julian?"

"Purely professional. She comes from high society—this is just a passion project for her."

Marcus emphasized the point to avoid unnecessary rumors. Besides, anyone with half a brain would uncover her background soon enough.

At the exclusive red wine tasting, Marcus handled all the networking. Evelyn simply followed his lead, sipping her wine with practiced grace and memorizing names with a polite smile.

The level of protection Marcus provided only heightened the room’s curiosity about her status.

The entire event unfolded with Marcus skillfully maneuvering through conversations while Evelyn observed, thoroughly amused by the spectacle.

Still, with more staff than celebrities present, the gossip remained contained.

Just as boredom began to creep in, Evelyn turned—and nearly spilled her drink.

Isabelle was striding straight toward them.

Evelyn finally understood why Celeste had once wanted to disfigure herself. That face—when it appeared—could truly make one's mind go blank for a moment. The sheer revulsion it stirred in Celeste was palpable.

But more importantly—what was she doing here?

Isabelle had come specifically for Marcus. From across the room, she'd spotted Marcus and assumed Julian would be with him. Instead, it was Evelyn standing by his side.

She hesitated, not daring to offend Evelyn directly. "Marcus," she asked anxiously, "is Julian here?"

Marcus forced a professional smile despite his irritation. "No."

Isabelle's eyes narrowed. "Or is he avoiding me?"

Though she didn't raise her voice much, the commotion drew curious glances from nearby guests. Marcus's jaw tightened. If the press caught wind of this, it would trend within hours. The previous rumors about them were headache enough.

As an agent, letting his client face such scandals was unacceptable. Knowing Isabelle wouldn't listen to reason, Marcus had to redirect. "Ms. Isabelle, perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere?"

"Fine. Take me to Julian."

Marcus's expression froze as he glanced at Evelyn.

Evelyn was equally exasperated. Celeste's luck truly had run out. If the twins crossed paths now, she feared the unhinged Isabelle might cause a scene.

Seeing Marcus's look, Evelyn said, "I'm tired anyway. I'll take a walk around—just Lillian with me is fine."

Marcus nodded, swiftly exiting with his team, leaving behind disappointed onlookers craving more drama.

The Silvinubis Hotel comprised three wings: one for dining and leisure, another for accommodations, and the third for events.

After parting with Marcus, Evelyn returned to her suite to change. Simultaneously, she texted Celeste:

"At Silvinubis for an event. Thought I saw you—are you here too?"

No reply.

Evelyn wasn't sure if Celeste hadn't seen the message or was deliberately ignoring her. After all, as Julian's sister-in-law, she might be someone Celeste wanted to erase from her life completely.

The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken tensions, as Evelyn stepped out into the gilded hallway—unaware of the storm about to break.

Despite her best intentions, Evelyn Sinclair gave Celeste a subtle warning. "By the way, I spotted Isabelle at the event earlier. I hope you don’t run into her."

When Celeste remained silent, Evelyn could do nothing more.

With Lillian Graves by her side, she made her way toward the entertainment zone.

As they reached the first-floor lobby, they noticed a crowd had gathered, their steps slowing as they watched the unfolding spectacle with keen interest.

How could I possibly miss this?

Without hesitation, Evelyn and Lillian rushed forward to get a closer look.

The scene was nothing short of dramatic. A young man knelt on the floor, clutching a woman’s leg desperately. Both appeared to be in their early twenties.

The man’s voice cracked with emotion. "Vivienne, I love you! I can’t live without you. If you reject me, I swear I won’t survive!"

Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. "Dominic, stop this! Everyone is watching!"

"Vivienne, I’m sorry! I only acted that way because I love you too much! Seeing you with that other man drove me insane!"

"Don’t twist things—you knew he was my professor! You always jump to conclusions… Forget it. We’re done. I don’t want to argue anymore. I—"

"I don’t want to be done!" His voice rose, raw with desperation. "Please, give me one more chance. I’m begging you!"

Vivienne exhaled sharply, frustration lacing her words. "You’ve done this before—acted irrationally jealous, humiliated me in front of everyone. My friends say it’s a psychological issue, something you can’t change. They told me to leave you. And I did give you another chance—but you turned violent again. I’m done."

"Those people don’t understand! As a woman, you don’t see what men are really thinking—but I do. I was just trying to protect you!"

"That’s ridiculous! I should’ve listened to them and never looked back."

"I was wrong, I swear! If you forgive me, I’ll do anything—anything! I’ll even punish myself!" With that, he began slapping his own face, the sharp cracks echoing through the lobby.

The crowd murmured in shock.

Vivienne hesitated—then, unable to bear it, she grabbed his wrists, her voice breaking. "Stop! This isn’t the issue!"

"I know you’re still upset about her—but I swear, there was nothing between us! I cut all contact!"

Evelyn exchanged a glance with Lillian. This is worse than I thought.

The tension thickened, the air charged with unresolved emotions—and the promise of even more drama to come.

"Yet my best friend swears she saw you two together again. She warned me you were playing me, begging me not to take you back."

The man's expression twisted. "Lies! Tell her to show proof! Didn't you say your friend's love life is a train wreck? She's just jealous of what we have."

"She’s not like that. Vivienne is kind, brilliant, and successful. Don’t you dare speak about her that way! Every time we fought, she was the one who took me in, who comforted me!"

"If she truly cared, why would she poison your mind? Yes, I lost my temper, but it was only because I love you madly. Can you deny that? Did she ever acknowledge my feelings for you? She just can’t stand seeing you happy!"

"It’s not… It’s not true!" Though she protested, uncertainty flickered in her eyes.

"After all these years together, you’d trust an outsider over me? Fine, maybe I’m flawed, but my heart has always been yours. We were perfect until she got involved. You used to adore me, but now everything I do is wrong. She’s the one twisting your thoughts, whispering lies until you believe them."

"No, she made valid points. You’re suffocating me. I can’t even choose my own clothes. Others noticed too—I was just blind to it," the woman murmured, her face torn.

"Those are petty details! I only wanted to protect you! And there’s something you don’t know—your friend has feelings for me!"

"Every time I visited, she’d watch me, pushing you to leave me. If that’s not obsession, what is? She’s desperate to break us apart. But I’d never want her—I made sure she knew it!" His voice dripped with false righteousness.

The woman staggered back as if struck.

"But she’s stunning… like a Hollywood star. Why wouldn’t you—"

"I’ll confront her. If she admits it, I’ll forgive you. But if she denies it… we’re done. I won’t let you break me again!" With a shove, she fled before he could react, his numb legs failing him.

"WHAT ARE YOU ALL GAPING AT? SCRAM!" he roared at the gawking crowd.

Evelyn Sinclair and Lillian Graves slipped away, exchanging glances.

"Evelyn, do you think they’ll reconcile?" Lillian nibbled her crepe.

"You believe that man’s act?" Lillian frowned. "He reeks of manipulation."

"Whether he lied or not, that woman’s hesitation says it all. Reconciliation is inevitable." Evelyn sighed. "If he’s telling the truth, fine. But if he’s lying? That poor friend of hers."

Lillian blinked. "Huh?"

Evelyn popped a candied fruit into her mouth. "Worst part? The woman blamed her friend, making her the villain. If they reconcile, that friend loses everything. That’s toxicity, Lillian. Remember: steer clear of people like that."

As Evelyn turned, she spotted Vivienne—the woman from the fight—entering a café. The glass walls revealed four scholars deep in discussion.

"Our project’s too avant-garde for local investors. Overseas funding might be our only hope."

"Even collaborating abroad, the professor insists we retain control. That’s why we’ve struggled to secure domestic backing."

A voice cut in abruptly. The trio stiffened, glancing at Celeste.

"Apologies, I spoke out of turn," the speaker backpedaled.

Celeste, sporting a sleek boyish haircut and black-rimmed glasses, merely smiled. "No harm. Let’s brainstorm alternatives."

Dressed in a crisp white blouse, she bore zero resemblance to her starlet twin, Isabelle.

"Mind if I join? Your research intrigues me. I’d like to invest."

A tall figure loomed over them—hat, sunglasses, black mask. He hooked a finger under the mask, revealing sculpted lips. "May I sit?"

The group gaped at Celeste.

Her ex-fiancé, superstar Julian Blackwood, was infamous among her peers. Rumors swirled that he’d been closer to Isabelle than to Celeste.

When Celeste returned, resolved to leave for research abroad, she’d coldly severed ties with her family and broken their engagement.

Now, here he was—disguised, offering investment?

Clearly, this was about Celeste.

The stoic researchers barely suppressed their gossipy glee.

The woman beside Celeste bolted to the opposite seat. The others clutched their coffees, mute.

Julian’s pulse raced at Celeste’s new look. Not his usual type, yet he’d never been more certain: he was utterly smitten.

"Celeste, I—" he stammered.

"Mr. Blackwood, celebrity status won’t cover the sums we need," Celeste said flatly, avoiding his gaze.

Julian recovered swiftly. "Quirk Group will back you. I’m here as their rep, not a star."

The team brightened. Quirk Group was an unexpected boon.

"Then discuss terms with our professor. Not us." Celeste turned to a colleague. "Escort him, please."

Julian panicked. "No, I need to talk to you!"

Celeste finally met his eyes—impatience flashing. The sting of her gaze nearly undid him.

Tears threatened. "Please. Just five minutes."

"Using money to pressure me? How original."

Julian paled. "I’ll go. The investment stands." Defeated, he rose.

Celeste froze. The Julian she knew never backed down. This meek surrender reminded her of the boy who’d once adored her.

Flustered, she gulped her coffee.

Julian lingered, then gasped—staring past the glass.

The group followed his gaze.

Two girls stood outside, laden with shopping bags. The breathtaking one stared straight at them, eyes wide with curiosity.

"Is she… Julian’s fan?" someone whispered.

Celeste locked eyes with Evelyn.

"That’s his sister-in-law."