Chapter 2

The morning sun cast golden streaks across Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse as she sipped her espresso, the rich aroma mingling with the crisp city air. Today was supposed to be just another routine day—meetings, script reviews, perhaps a quick lunch with her agent, Serena Whitmore. But fate had other plans.

Her phone buzzed insistently. A message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant: "Mr. Blackwood's team just called. He wants to discuss the project in person. Today. At his estate."

Evelyn nearly choked on her coffee. Nathan Blackwood? The reclusive billionaire producer who hadn’t stepped into the public eye in years? The same man whose name alone sent Hollywood into a frenzy?

She typed back, fingers flying: "Why? We haven’t even pitched yet."

Lillian’s reply was swift: "No idea. But his assistant said it’s urgent. Car’s arriving in an hour."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. This wasn’t just unusual—it was unprecedented. Nathan Blackwood didn’t summon people. He didn’t need to.

The Blackwood Estate loomed ahead, a sprawling modern fortress hidden behind towering iron gates. As the car rolled up the manicured drive, Evelyn caught glimpses of sleek glass walls reflecting the afternoon light, a stark contrast to the gilded excess of most industry elites.

A stern-faced butler greeted her at the entrance. "Ms. Sinclair. Mr. Blackwood is expecting you in the study."

The interior was just as striking—minimalist yet opulent, every piece of furniture looking like it belonged in a design magazine. But Evelyn barely had time to admire it before she was ushered into a sunlit room where Nathan Blackwood stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to her.

He turned slowly, and Evelyn’s breath hitched.

Dark hair, tousled as if he’d been running his hands through it. Piercing green eyes that seemed to see too much. And that scar—a faint, jagged line along his jaw that only added to his dangerous allure.

"Ms. Sinclair," he said, his voice low and rough, like gravel under velvet. "I’ve read your script."

Evelyn’s stomach flipped. He’d read it? The one she’d poured her soul into, the project no studio had dared touch?

"And?" she managed, proud of how steady her voice sounded.

Nathan’s lips curved, just slightly. "I want to produce it."

The world tilted.

"But," he continued, stepping closer, "there’s a condition."

Of course there was. With men like him, there always was.

Evelyn lifted her chin. "Which is?"

His gaze locked onto hers, unreadable. "You rewrite the third act. With me."

Silence.

Rewrite with him? The Nathan Blackwood, who hadn’t written a script in a decade?

Before she could respond, the door burst open.

Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s sharp-tongued secretary, stormed in, her designer heels clicking like gunshots. "Nathan, we have a problem. She’s here."

Nathan’s expression darkened. "Not now."

But it was too late.

A woman swept into the room—tall, regal, with ice-blonde hair and a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Margaret Blackwood. His mother.

And from the way her gaze zeroed in on Evelyn, it was clear: she knew.

The employees of Blackwood Enterprises had long grown weary of Evelyn Sinclair's dramatic antics, especially those working directly under the CEO.

To them, the demand to review the security footage was nothing short of an accusation.

They had all witnessed Evelyn entering Nathan's office with their own eyes—why else would they have pointed fingers at her?

Yet, at Nathan's command, the surveillance footage flickered to life on the screen.

The video fast-forwarded, clearly showing Evelyn entering and lingering for nearly half an hour before leaving with a stormy expression—likely because she hadn’t gotten what she wanted.

The onlookers exchanged knowing glances, convinced Evelyn was digging her own grave. They couldn’t wait to see her stubborn act crumble.

Only Victoria Hayes was sweating bullets.

Then, her figure appeared on the screen.

Victoria’s pupils constricted as she stole a nervous glance at Nathan.

Some of the employees who had been rolling their eyes at Evelyn now stiffened, while others remained oblivious.

The footage paused.

Nathan’s expression darkened. Unbelievable.

His icy gaze swept over those who had sworn only Evelyn had accessed his office. "Only Mrs. Blackwood entered, you said?"

The senior assistant, unfazed, spoke up. "Mr. Blackwood, I don’t see the issue. Mrs. Blackwood was the only one who—"

Others nodded in agreement.

"They’re selectively blind," Evelyn’s voice echoed in Nathan’s mind, making him scowl.

Then, a new voice cut through. "Actually, two people entered. Mrs. Blackwood and Ms. Hayes."

"Finally, someone with functioning eyes!" Evelyn’s sarcastic remark played in Nathan’s thoughts.

All heads turned toward the speaker—a newly promoted junior assistant who hadn’t been present during Evelyn’s earlier interrogation.

Nathan’s sharp memory recalled the man’s absence during the accusations.

The room erupted in dismissive laughter.

"Ms. Hayes is in and out of the office all the time—she’s Mr. Blackwood’s most trusted aide!"

"You’re new, so you wouldn’t know. Questioning Ms. Hayes is absurd!"

Nathan’s cold scoff silenced them instantly.

Evelyn’s amused voice whispered in his mind, "Oh, if only they knew the truth. Their faces would be priceless."

Her gaze flicked to Victoria—a woman whose effortless elegance made her seem untouchable.

Victoria’s high ponytail was sleek, her curls artfully tousled. Her fitted dress accentuated her figure, and her flawless makeup only enhanced her natural beauty.

But right now, her composure was cracking.

"Can’t blame them, really. They take their cues from Nathan—treating her like a saint and me like a nuisance," Evelyn mused.

Nathan’s jaw tightened. Yes, that’s my fault.

"Care to explain, Ms. Hayes?" he demanded.

Victoria’s voice trembled with feigned hurt. "Mr. Blackwood, are you seriously suspecting me?" She quickly steadied herself. "I was only preparing for tomorrow’s meetings—you know I work late every night."

"Convenient timing, wasn’t it? She planned this perfectly. And wow, forced overtime? Nathan, you’re practically a villain. After the divorce, I’m mailing you labor rights pamphlets," Evelyn quipped.

Nathan nearly rolled his eyes. Focus, Evelyn! Your reputation is on the line!

"Everyone who entered my office during that period will be investigated," he declared. "No exceptions."

Victoria’s face twisted in betrayal. She had never imagined Nathan would treat her the same as Evelyn—especially when Evelyn had already confessed!

Hadn’t she been his most loyal confidante for ten years?

The other assistants shifted uncomfortably, clearly thinking Nathan was being unreasonable.

Then—

"OH MY GOD!" Evelyn’s mental shriek nearly made Nathan jump.

What now? he thought irritably, half-listening as Joseph defended Victoria.

"No WONDER Joseph’s gunning for me! He’s Victoria’s SIMP! This is gold!"

Nathan blinked. Joseph? A simp?

"Morning greetings, umbrella reminders, winter scarves—TWO YEARS of unrequited devotion! And when he finally tracked down some rare gift she casually mentioned, he got sick delivering it, and all she said was ‘drink hot water’? Brutal!"

Nathan sighed. If only he put that effort into his reports…

"Oh, it gets worse! He serenaded her outside her apartment at 2 AM, got arrested for disturbing the peace, and apologized for potentially ruining her sleep! The dedication is terrifying!"

Nathan pinched the bridge of his nose. No wonder his productivity dips.

"Wait—THERE’S MORE?!"

Nathan stiffened. More?

"He’s… uh… let’s just say he’s very devoted to her photo collection. Ew. TMI. Moving on!"

Nathan felt queasy.

Meanwhile, Joseph, blissfully unaware, continued his passionate defense—completely missing the way Nathan and Evelyn were now staring at him with a mix of pity and secondhand embarrassment.

"Hahaha! This is all Hector’s fault!" Evelyn’s voice chimed again.

Nathan frowned. What does Hector have to do with—wait, what was I doing again?

His thoughts derailed, helpless against the tidal wave of Evelyn’s chaotic commentary.

Even the most disciplined minds weren’t immune to gossip.