Chapter 296

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 bolded title—Midnight Whispers—her latest project with Preston Whitmore.

A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.

"Evelyn, we have a problem," Lillian Graves announced, stepping inside with a tablet in hand. Her assistant's usually composed demeanor was frayed at the edges.

Evelyn arched a brow. "What now?"

Lillian hesitated before swiping the screen. "Nathan Blackwood just announced his engagement."

The words hit like a physical blow. Evelyn's fingers tightened around the script, creasing the edges. "To whom?"

"Victoria Hayes."

A bitter laugh escaped Evelyn's lips. Of course. The woman who had schemed behind her back for months had finally gotten what she wanted.

Lillian bit her lip. "The press is already calling it the wedding of the year. They're speculating it's a rebound after you two—"

"I don't care what they're saying," Evelyn cut in, though the lie burned her throat. She turned toward the window, her reflection a ghostly silhouette against the city skyline.

A notification chimed on Lillian's tablet. She paled. "Oh no."

Evelyn didn't need to ask. The headline glared back at them:

"Blackwood's Fiancée Drops Bombshell: 'Evelyn Sinclair Was Never Right for Him.'"

Her phone buzzed—Serena Whitmore, her agent.

Evelyn ignored it. Instead, she reached for her coat.

"Where are you going?" Lillian asked, alarmed.

"To remind Nathan Blackwood exactly what he's losing."

The Blackwood Enterprises lobby was all marble and muted elegance, but Evelyn stormed through it like a hurricane. The receptionist gasped as she bypassed security, heels clicking with lethal precision toward the private elevator.

Nathan's office door swung open before she could knock.

He stood there, immaculate in a tailored suit, his icy gaze locking onto hers. "Evelyn."

She stepped inside, letting the door slam behind her. "Congratulations are in order, I hear."

His jaw tightened. "It's not what you think."

"Isn't it?" She advanced, her voice a razor's edge. "Tell me, Nathan—was it always part of the plan? String me along until Victoria secured her position?"

His eyes darkened. "You know damn well that's not true."

"Then explain it to me." She crossed her arms, nails digging into her sleeves. "Because from where I'm standing, you just handed my heart to your scheming secretary on a silver platter."

A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I had no choice."

Evelyn laughed, the sound hollow. "There's always a choice."

Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words.

Then—

A knock.

Victoria's saccharine voice floated through the door. "Nathan, darling? The press conference is starting."

Evelyn's smile was lethal. "Don't keep your fiancée waiting."

She turned to leave, but Nathan caught her wrist. His grip was firm, his voice low. "This isn't over."

Evelyn wrenched free. "Oh, it is."

And with that, she walked out—leaving behind the shattered pieces of what they'd once had.

Outside Blackwood Enterprises

Lillian rushed forward. "What happened?"

Evelyn didn't answer. Instead, she pulled out her phone and dialed a number she hadn't touched in months.

Preston Whitmore answered on the first ring. "Evelyn?"

Her voice was steel. "I'm in. Midnight Whispers starts filming next week."

A pause. Then, a slow smile in his tone. "I'll have the contracts ready."

She hung up, staring at the Blackwood tower one last time.

If Nathan wanted a war, she'd give him one.

Perhaps it was the way Nathan looked so unexpectedly soft in the silken nightgown, his usual sharp edges blurred into something delicate and inviting. Evelyn found herself drawn to him like a moth to flame. Before she could stop herself, she tumbled onto the bed, landing squarely atop the breathtaking vision that was Nathan Blackwood.

The impact forced a quiet grunt from him, but once the surprise faded, his arms wrapped around her with effortless affection. His warmth seeped through the thin fabric, and Evelyn couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity—here was a man who could command boardrooms with a glance, now draped in lace and silk beneath her.

She propped herself up, studying his face. The usual icy detachment in his gaze had melted into something tender, something hers. A wicked grin curled her lips. "Such a beauty," she declared, tracing the line of his jaw. "You have to be my wife."

Who else could claim both the most devastatingly handsome husband and the most ethereal wife? Only her.

Nathan’s breath hitched. The way she looked at him—playful, possessive—sent a tremor through his chest. His pulse roared in his ears, loud enough that Evelyn could feel it where she pressed against him.

Then, without warning, the world tilted.

Evelyn’s lips met his in a kiss that tasted of winter mint and something infinitely sweeter. The contrast between the cool balm on her mouth and the heat of his skin was intoxicating. For a heartbeat, their breaths tangled, and Nathan swore he felt her soul brush against his.

Fire licked through his veins. Every muscle in his body coiled tight, a predator poised to strike—yet he held himself perfectly still. Afraid to move. Afraid to shatter the illusion.

But the pressure vanished as quickly as it came.

Nathan’s eyes flew open, chasing her retreat. His hands flexed against the sheets, aching to pull her back.

Evelyn, however, was already scrambling upright, cheeks flushed. "I—" Her voice wavered. "That was—"

Nathan didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he caught her wrist and tugged her down again.

This time, he kissed her.

The world dissolved into heat and hunger.

When they finally broke apart, Evelyn’s lips were swollen, her breathing ragged. Nathan’s thumb traced the curve of her bottom lip, his voice a rough whisper.

"Do you prefer men," he murmured, "or women?"

The question hung between them, charged and unreadable.

Evelyn’s pulse stuttered.

What kind of answer was that?

Nathan's eyes gleamed with intensity, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly as he swallowed hard. "Is that so? I was... concerned for a moment..."

His words dissolved into the warmth of their joined lips once more.

Evelyn's eyes flew open in shock, a visible tremor running through her. This time, her surprise was even more profound than before. The first kiss had happened in a haze of confusion, with the man before her feeling almost like a dream.

But now—this was undeniably real. Fully conscious, completely aware, she was being drawn into Nathan's embrace.

It was just a simple brush of lips, yet it sent fireworks exploding through her chest.

When Evelyn finally regained her senses, she heard his deep, velvety voice—laced with barely contained amusement, though he tried to sound indifferent. "Well," he murmured, "now I'm not worried anymore."

She couldn't remember how she had fallen asleep. The next morning, when she stirred, the usual good-morning peck on her forehead was replaced by something far lighter—a feather-soft kiss on her lips. The tickling sensation made her instinctively lick her own lips, and she swore she heard a quiet, stifled gulp.

Still half-asleep, Evelyn sensed something dangerous in the air. She curled deeper into the blankets, drifting back into peaceful dreams.

Nathan, however, had no choice but to retreat to the bathroom before they could finally leave.

Their progress was slow—distractingly so.

But the day of the Burke family wedding was fast approaching.

Even though Ralph had no hope of fathering children, the ceremony would proceed as planned.

That evening, the family gathered in the living room, discussing their plans for the next day’s event. Evelyn, however, was distracted. Vivian had been blowing up her phone, messages flooding in one after another.

At first, Evelyn thought it was an emergency. But when she opened the chat, the first message read:

"Do you know what’s going on between Marcus and Vivian?"

Evelyn frowned. Scrolling up, she realized Vivian and Beatrice had recently contacted Vivian Grant about wedding gifts. Though they managed to reach her, the usually lively and talkative Vivian had been unusually brief, her tone weak and distant. She barely responded to messages—something was off.

Evelyn wanted to reply, "You’ve known her for years. If you don’t know, how would I?"

But before she could type a word, another message popped up:

"Gossip queen, spill. What’s the tea?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes.

She tossed her phone to Nathan. After a moment of thought, he remarked, "Marcus hasn’t been around much lately. Seems preoccupied."

That immediately caught the family’s attention.

"What’s going on?" Cassandra asked, leaning forward.

Nathan shrugged. "No idea. But something’s definitely up."

The room buzzed with speculation, but Evelyn’s mind was elsewhere—lingering on the memory of that kiss.

And the way Nathan had looked at her afterward.

Like he’d been waiting for that moment forever.

Meanwhile, Evelyn seized the chance to access the system, her fingers flying across the screen as she pulled up the latest updates.

What in the world is going on? Let me see… Wait, what?

COMPLETE.

The entire household stiffened at once. What now? Was there actually some explosive gossip? Could it be about Marcus’s father being infertile?

Holy hell, this can’t be real!

Mrs. Laurent had suffered a miscarriage—and it was no accident. Vivian was behind it. Mr. Brooks still had no idea his last hope for an heir had been destroyed. And now, with his inability to conceive, he clung even tighter to his remaining child. Both Marcus and Vivian knew the truth: if Mr. Brooks ever found out, all hell would break loose.