Chapter 293

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 traced her fingers over the bold letters of the title—Midnight Whispers—her latest project with Nathan Blackwood. A thrill shot through her.

Her phone buzzed. Nathan Blackwood flashed on the screen.

"Evelyn," his deep voice resonated, sending a familiar warmth through her. "We need to talk about the script changes."

She exhaled. "I know. The ending feels rushed."

"Exactly." A pause. "Meet me at The Velvet Lounge in an hour?"

Her pulse quickened. The Velvet Lounge—their usual spot, dimly lit, intimate. Dangerous.

"Fine," she said, feigning indifference.

The moment Evelyn stepped into the lounge, her gaze locked onto Nathan. He sat in their usual corner booth, his dark hair slightly tousled, his piercing blue eyes scanning the script. He looked up, and the intensity in his stare made her breath hitch.

"You're late," he murmured, sliding a glass of her favorite rosé toward her.

"Traffic," she lied, taking the seat opposite him.

Nathan leaned forward, his voice dropping. "The studio wants a happy ending."

Evelyn scoffed. "Since when do we cater to clichés?"

"Since the ratings dipped last season." His jaw tightened. "They think audiences want a fairy tale."

She clenched her fists. "Then they don’t understand our story."

Nathan’s fingers brushed hers—accidentally?—as he flipped a page. "What if we give them a twist instead?"

Her heart raced. "What kind of twist?"

A slow smirk curved his lips. "One where the heroine doesn’t choose between love and ambition. She takes both."

Evelyn’s breath caught. That wasn’t in the script. That was them.

The air between them crackled.

Then her phone rang—Victoria Hayes, her ever-persistent secretary.

Evelyn hesitated.

Nathan’s gaze darkened. "Ignore it."

For once, she did.

Across the city, in a sleek high-rise office, Victoria Hayes scowled at her unanswered call. She tapped her manicured nails against the desk.

"Still avoiding you?" Lillian Graves, Evelyn’s assistant, smirked from the doorway.

Victoria’s eyes narrowed. "She’s with him again."

Lillian shrugged. "You can’t compete with Nathan Blackwood."

Victoria’s lips curled into a cold smile. "We’ll see about that."

She pulled out a file labeled CONFIDENTIAL and flipped it open. Inside were photos—Evelyn and Nathan, their stolen moments, their undeniable chemistry.

"Everyone has a weakness," Victoria murmured. "Even golden boys like Nathan."

She picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Mr. Holloway? We need to talk."

Back at The Velvet Lounge, Evelyn’s laughter filled the air as Nathan recounted a ridiculous on-set mishap. For a moment, it was just them—no scripts, no expectations.

Then his phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and his expression hardened.

Evelyn frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Nathan pocketed his phone. "Nothing." But his tone said otherwise.

She reached for his hand. "Nathan—"

He pulled away. "We should focus on the script."

The shift was sudden, icy.

Evelyn’s chest tightened. Something was wrong.

And she intended to find out what.

Marcus let out a weary sigh as he spoke, his usual playful demeanor replaced by reluctant exasperation. He tapped the speakerphone icon, allowing everyone in the room to hear the conversation.

"It's like this," Adriana's hesitant voice floated through the line. "I need to go for a prenatal checkup, but your father isn’t available. Could you come with me?" She paused, then added softly, "You know my pregnancy is high-risk."

The room fell into stunned silence. Had Adriana and Marcus shared a cordial relationship, her request might have made sense. But the two were far from close—barely more than strangers tied by circumstance.

Marcus shot Vivian a look of disbelief before responding, "No way. You're the dangerous one here. I should stay far away. If something goes wrong, guess who gets blamed for ruining my father’s late-life joy? Not taking that risk. Find someone else—preferably someone who won’t raise suspicions. That way, we both sleep better."

He muffled the phone against his chest and turned to the others. "Is she seriously trying to pit me against her?"

No one had an answer. Wealthy families bred peculiar dramas, but this was pushing even their tolerance for absurdity.

Then again, Adriana seemed to have no relatives by her side. Asking Marcus—the family’s heir—for help wasn’t entirely unreasonable.

Daniel mouthed silently, "Your dad’s idea?"

As if on cue, Adriana’s voice crackled through the speaker again. "It was your father’s suggestion."

Vivian immediately flashed Daniel an impressed grin. He merely shrugged, as if to say, Obvious.

Evelyn’s gaze lingered on Daniel with admiration. Cop instincts never fail. Faster than Nathan’s deductions.

Nathan caught her expression and bristled. He had considered the possibility—he just hadn’t voiced it. Now, watching his wife admire another man, jealousy prickled under his skin.

Marcus rolled his eyes. "I don’t care whose idea it was. Does she think I’ve got nothing better to do?"

Before he could refuse, Adriana spoke again, her voice laced with a sorrowful tremor. "Regardless, this child is your flesh and blood. Don’t you care at all?"

A shiver raced down Marcus’s spine.

Good grief. To an outsider, that tone would suggest she wasn’t talking about his half-sibling—but his own child. Evelyn’s brows knitted together. Women picked up on these nuances faster than men.

Vivian’s face twisted in disgust, as if she’d swallowed something foul.

Even Vivian, usually slow on the uptake, shifted uncomfortably.

"Why would I care?" Marcus scoffed. "This kid’s going to fight me for inheritance and Dad’s affection. Save the guilt trip—I’m not—"

"I—I didn't mean it like that. How could this child ever compare to you? Don't worry, it's impossible." Adriana's voice wavered, but she quickly steadied herself, forcing restraint into her tone. "I'm just... not feeling well right now. Could you help me, just this once? Please?"

The more Adriana acted this way, the more Marcus grew suspicious. She was playing the victim, but he sensed a trap lurking beneath her fragile facade.

Just as he was about to refuse, Vivian gently tugged at his sleeve.

Adriana's words had clearly irritated Vivian, stirring an instinctive dislike. Yet, concern lingered. The baby in Adriana's belly might one day be Marcus's half-sibling—the closest blood relative he'd have outside of his immediate family.

Marcus had once admitted he wouldn’t mind having well-behaved siblings. He was even open to forming bonds with them.

The last time Vivian saw Adriana, the woman had been cradling her stomach protectively, her love for the unborn child unmistakable.

Putting aside her discomfort, Vivian considered that Adriana might genuinely be in distress. With Grayson unavailable, she probably just wanted someone dependable by her side.

"Let's go together," Vivian mouthed.

Marcus hesitated, but then something flickered in his eyes. His expression shifted subtly before he affectionately brushed his fingers through Vivian’s hair, replying silently, "Whatever you say, love."

Vivian smiled.

With that, Marcus assured Adriana over the phone that he’d handle the situation before hanging up.

By the time Beatrice came looking for them, Vivian and Marcus had already left.

Meanwhile, the remaining guests were deep in discussion about the upcoming Burke family wedding—and Adriana’s peculiar behavior.

Beatrice blinked in surprise. She’d expected everyone to still be buzzing about the earlier scandal.

"You're all talking about this instead?" she exclaimed, amused at how quickly gossip moved on.

"We’re professionals at this point," Vivian Moore declared shamelessly, slinging an arm around Beatrice’s shoulders. "No matter how explosive the news, it’s just another day for us. So, how’s it going, future honorary Winters?"

Beatrice sighed. "That’s it for now. I’m heading back. You all coming?"

"Isn’t Lucas coming out?" Daniel asked.

"The Winters family has a lot to discuss. And besides—" Before Beatrice could finish, the sharp wail of police sirens cut through the air.

Guests still lingering in the mansion watched in stunned silence as Penelope and Caleb Moore were escorted out, struggling awkwardly against the officers.

From the doorway, the newly reunited family of three stood, watching as the people who had once tormented them were led away.

The irony wasn’t lost on anyone.

The small group couldn't help but notice Lucas's unusual demeanor. His expression was carefully blank, but the tension in his jaw betrayed his inner turmoil. Pride, however, kept him from showing any sign of weakness.

After exchanging brief goodbyes, they all walked away together.

"So, you're really going to become Mrs. Harrison's goddaughter, Beatrice?" Vivian arched a brow, her tone teasing. "That would make you Lucas's godsister, wouldn’t it? First his fiancée, now his sister—you two really can’t escape each other. Why not just admit there’s something between you?"

Beatrice pressed her lips together, her usual composure slipping just slightly.

Back when I didn’t know about Lucas’s past, things were simpler. Now, it’s almost comical—his crush is about to become his godsister. Evelyn smirked to herself.

Nathan gave a knowing glance. Knowing Lucas, once this mess is sorted, he’ll chase after Beatrice if she’s still single. The real question is—will she let him?

Sure enough, Beatrice scoffed. "Enough jokes. I finally got my freedom after completing that ridiculous family task. Why would I willingly walk into another prison?"

"See? This is why we get along. Different personalities, same views on marriage," Vivian laughed.

"Exactly. Marriage is a cage," Evelyn added dryly.

The moment the words left her mouth, everyone turned to stare—then slowly shifted their gazes to Nathan.

Nathan tugged at Evelyn’s sleeve subtly, his expression a mix of amusement and wounded pride.

Evelyn blinked. Right. I’m married now. Probably shouldn’t say things like that.

She quickly amended, "A happy marriage isn’t!"