Chapter 290

Mind Games and Juicy Revelations

The moment Evelyn Sinclair stepped into the gilded lobby of Blackwood Tower, she could feel the weight of unspoken secrets pressing against her. The air was thick with tension, the kind that came from years of buried scandals and whispered betrayals.

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she made her way to the private elevator, her mind buzzing with the latest gossip she’d overheard. Nathan Blackwood’s sister, Sophia, was seen arguing with her husband, Daniel Prescott, in the middle of a high-society gala. And the whispers about Adriana—Daniel’s mistress—were getting louder.

Evelyn smirked. If there was one thing she excelled at, it was gathering intel.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing Nathan himself, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "You're late," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Fashionably so," she countered, stepping inside. The doors closed, sealing them in the confined space. The tension between them crackled—part professional, part something far more dangerous.

Nathan leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed. "What’s got you so amused?"

She tilted her head, feigning innocence. "Oh, just the usual high-society drama. Did you know your dear brother-in-law was spotted leaving Adriana’s penthouse at three in the morning?"

His jaw tightened. "Stay out of it, Evelyn."

She laughed, the sound light but edged with steel. "Oh, come on. You can’t expect me to ignore something this juicy. Especially when it involves your family."

The elevator dinged, signaling their arrival at the executive floor. As the doors opened, Nathan caught her wrist, pulling her close enough that she could feel the heat of his breath against her ear. "Be careful," he murmured. "Some secrets are better left buried."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened, but she refused to back down. "Or," she whispered back, "they’re just waiting for the right person to dig them up."

His grip tightened briefly before he released her, striding ahead without another word.

She followed, her mind already racing with possibilities. If Nathan thought she’d drop this, he was sorely mistaken. The Blackwood family had skeletons in their closet, and Evelyn was more than happy to rattle them.

After all, in their world, information was power—and she intended to wield it.

The absurd accusation twisted reality, painting her as the wronged party.

.

Though Penelope directed her words at Lydia, it was Richard who responded. "No. I wasn't present that night. My wife's vitals were already critical during labor. As the elder brother, it was his duty to care for her. But your petty theatrics triggered premature delivery. You orchestrated your own tragedy!"

His words struck like a hammer. Now he's become my voice. Someone needed to confront a blame-shifter like Mrs. Collins with cold facts. The crimson flush of shame spreading across her face proved she knew her arguments held no weight.

The Blackwoods nodded along with Evelyn's condemnation—Penelope's raised voice only betrayed her guilt.

"No! This was all Lydia and Lucas's fault! After I endured hours of labor to deliver Oliver, that man finally appeared—only to ignore our son completely! He rushed straight to your child, doting on him as if he were his own. His obsession with you made him disrespect me! I hate him! He should've cherished my son!"

"So you switched them." Lydia's jaw clenched, fury simmering beneath her words.

"Fate smiled on me. The boys grew strikingly similar. When you left on that business trip, I seized my chance. Not a soul noticed. Doesn't he deserve to be treated well? But then he died. Shortly after the switch, Lucas got him killed!"

"Madwoman! I remember now—Jared only left that night because you provoked him! His accident rests on your conscience!" Richard fired back.

"No! Lucas destroyed everything! Jared died searching for him!" Penelope shrieked.

A Winters family member spoke up. "Now I recall! Jared raced out because you lost track of Lucas. By the time we found Lucas, Jared's accident report arrived. That's why people called Lucas a curse. How differently things appear now..."

"Because of your twisted scheme, you neglected me—perhaps even wished me gone. But Jared believed I was Oliver. Though he never wanted that child, he still acted as a father should, desperately searching for his son... You killed him! Yet you made me bear the guilt all these years. Can't face that you destroyed the man you loved?"

Lucas's quiet dissection of truth ended with a hollow, mocking stare at Penelope.

She screamed—her final delusion ripped away.

"No! This is your fault! Both of you ruined everything!"

The truth was undeniable, no matter how much everyone wished it wasn’t.

The tragedy that had befallen Penelope’s family? Entirely her own doing.

Reasoning with a madwoman was futile. So, Beatrice decided to skip words and act.

She slapped Penelope—once for every year Lucas had lived.

By the time the onlookers processed what had happened, Penelope’s face was already swollen, her wrinkles stretched taut. Blood and saliva dripped from the corner of her mouth. At first, she was stunned. Then, she exploded.

"How dare you hit me!" she shrieked, her words slurred.

A second later, she turned her wild gaze to Lucas. "Are you just going to stand there while she assaults your mother?"

Lucas had been reeling from the revelation, his emotions a storm inside him. But now? He let out a cold, mocking laugh.

"Who are you talking to?" His voice was sharp, his eyes glinting with disdain. "Shouldn’t you be begging your real son, Caleb, for help?"

Caleb, as if snapping out of a trance, stared at Penelope with disgust. "No. She’s not my mother. Never." His voice was icy. "Explain yourself, you lunatic."

Penelope flinched at his rejection. "How can you say that? Everything I did was for you! I gave you every advantage—position, power—and you still failed! Why couldn’t you beat Lucas? Why couldn’t my son outshine hers?"

"Shut up!" Caleb snarled, his pride wounded. He didn’t care about their blood ties anymore.

Penelope’s eyes glazed over with madness. "No… it wasn’t your fault. It was hers—Beatrice Holloway!" She whirled toward Beatrice, venom dripping from her words.

"You already treated Caleb as your own, yet you refused to name him your heir. You wicked woman!"

Beatrice didn’t even need to defend herself. The crowd had already turned against Penelope.

"Karma always catches up."

"The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree."

"What kind of decent person could come from her? Both Caleb and Luna are monsters. Status can’t change nature."

"Ugh, don’t remind me. Just thinking about the things they’ve done makes me sick."

The murmurs grew louder, the judgment final.

Penelope had dug her own grave. And now, she was buried in it.

The revelation left everyone stunned. The truth was far more twisted than anyone could have imagined.

Lucas Thornton stood there, his expression unreadable. The years of torment he had endured under Penelope Collins’ cruelty were finally coming to light. And now, karma had struck back with a vengeance.

“This is unbelievable,” someone muttered in the crowd. “No wonder she was so desperate to pin everything on Lucas. She couldn’t even face the truth herself.”

“Disgusting,” another voice chimed in. “The entire family is rotten to the core.”

“It’s poetic justice,” a third person added. “The universe couldn’t stand her manipulations any longer. And yet, she still has the audacity to act like the victim.”

The whispers grew louder, each one more scathing than the last.

“Did you see the way she looked at him? After everything she’s done?”

“Rumor has it they’ve been involved for years. And it all started just to spite Lucas.”

“Unbelievable. What goes around, truly comes around.”

Then, a sharp, anguished scream cut through the murmurs. Luna Morgan, Penelope’s daughter, finally snapped.

“No! This isn’t true! Lucas is my brother!” she shrieked, her voice cracking under the weight of denial.

She couldn’t bring herself to look at Caleb Moore—the man who was, in fact, her real brother. Caleb, too, was reeling from the revelation, his face twisted in revulsion.

What have we done? The question echoed in his mind. How did it come to this?

Lucas, however, felt no sympathy.

“I’m not your brother,” he said coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. He pointed at Caleb. “He is. And from what I’ve heard, the two of you are already… close.”

The implication was clear. He wasn’t going to shield them from the consequences of their actions. Not after the years of suffering they had put him through.

Luna couldn’t take it. With a choked sob, she turned and fled, unable to face the truth any longer.

Caleb, too, wanted nothing more than to disappear. The stares of the crowd burned into him, each one filled with judgment and disgust.

Victor Reed, Luna’s father, hesitated for only a second before chasing after her, abandoning his wife without a second thought.

Penelope, momentarily snapping out of her daze, cried out in desperation. But the security guards held her firmly in place.

Then, as if by instinct, she turned her venomous glare toward Lucas.

“This is your fault!” she screamed, her voice raw with fury. “You knew! You knew about them, and you said nothing! If you had just spoken up sooner, none of this would have happened! How dare you let this happen!”

Her words were laced with venom, her rage blinding her to the truth—that she had no one to blame but herself.

But Lucas didn’t flinch.

He had waited years for this moment.

And now, justice would finally be served.