Chapter 39

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 sighed, running a hand through her tousled auburn hair as she reread the latest revisions for the third time.

This scene still doesn’t feel right.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant.

Lillian: Nathan Blackwood just arrived at the studio. He’s asking for you.

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. Nathan. The man who had effortlessly slipped past all her defenses, the one who made her heart race with just a glance.

She typed back quickly.

Evelyn: Tell him I’ll be there in ten.

She grabbed her leather jacket and hurried out, her mind racing. The script changes weren’t the only thing bothering her. There was something else—something she couldn’t quite place.

The studio was a hive of activity when she arrived. Crew members bustled about, adjusting lights and cameras, while Preston Whitmore, the director, barked orders.

And then she saw him.

Nathan stood near the set, his dark hair slightly tousled, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room. He wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, and the sight of him sent a familiar thrill through her.

He turned, sensing her presence, and a slow, knowing smile curved his lips.

“You’re late,” he murmured as she approached.

Evelyn arched a brow. “Fashionably late, darling.”

His chuckle was low, intimate. “Always.”

Before she could respond, Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s sharp-tongued secretary, appeared beside them, her expression cool.

“Mr. Blackwood, the producers are waiting.”

Nathan’s smile faded slightly, but he nodded. “I’ll be right there.”

Victoria shot Evelyn a look—one that was equal parts disdain and something else. Jealousy?

Evelyn ignored her, turning back to Nathan. “We need to talk. Later.”

His gaze darkened with understanding. “My place. After the shoot.”

She nodded, watching as he walked away, Victoria trailing behind him like a shadow.

The day dragged on, the tension between Evelyn and Nathan palpable every time their scenes required them to interact. Their chemistry was electric—too real, too intense—and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Cut!” Preston called, rubbing his temples. “Evelyn, Nathan—that was perfect. But let’s try it one more time with less… heat.”

Evelyn flushed, avoiding Nathan’s knowing smirk.

By the time filming wrapped, exhaustion weighed on her. But she couldn’t back out now. Not when so much was left unsaid.

She arrived at Nathan’s penthouse just as the city lights began to flicker to life. He opened the door before she could knock, his expression unreadable.

“You came.”

Evelyn stepped inside, her heart pounding. “We need to talk about the script.”

Nathan closed the door behind her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Is that really why you’re here?”

She swallowed hard.

No. It wasn’t.

And as his fingers brushed against hers, she knew—he knew it too.

Evelyn shook her head in disbelief. What a temper he has. Julian was already furious upon discovering Edward and Penelope were searching for Celeste. If he knew their twisted plans... She shuddered at the thought. He’d explode.

Following Julian to witness the drama, they arrived swiftly at Isabelle’s hospital room.

True to Evelyn’s expectations, Isabelle wasn’t even in the ICU. Yet Edward and Penelope had the audacity to manipulate Celeste over the phone, painting a picture of Isabelle clinging to life. Do they not fear their lies might manifest?

Meanwhile, Edward and Penelope were fuming, unable to reach Celeste, their curses filling the sterile air.

“That ungrateful girl! Her sister’s suffering because of her, and she can’t even bother to visit!” Edward spat, his face red with rage.

Penelope wrung her hands. “What now? Has Celeste truly abandoned us? If she’s this cold-hearted, she’d never agree to donate her organs to Isabelle, would she?”

“She owes it to us after what she’s done! I’ll march to her university myself—see why they’d enroll such a vile creature!”

Evelyn’s lips curled in disgust. The nerve. They spoke as if their demands were righteous, their cruelty justified. But Julian’s about to teach them otherwise.

As predicted, Julian’s fury erupted. Before anyone could react, he lunged forward, seizing Edward by the collar with his uninjured hand and slamming him against the wall with a sickening thud.

“Agh!” Edward howled, pain contorting his features.

Marcus, wide-eyed, scanned the hallway for witnesses. This was the first time he’d seen Julian lose control so violently. No point intervening now. He positioned himself as a lookout instead.

Edward, dazed, finally registered his assailant. His face paled. Julian Blackwood? Never had he imagined being manhandled by someone younger.

“Julian! Have you lost your mind? Let go!”

“Julian, stop this!” Penelope shrieked, clawing at his arm uselessly. He stood immovable, a force of wrath.

Desperate, Penelope turned to the bystanders. Nathan and Evelyn stood nearby, watching. “Nathan! Evelyn! Help us—!”

Evelyn blinked, then casually strolled to a bench and sat, crossing her legs. Might as well enjoy the show.

Penelope gaped at her indifference before pleading with Nathan. Surely the Blackwood heir won’t be as heartless?

To her dismay, Nathan glanced at Evelyn and settled down beside her before addressing Julian, "Be careful not to aggravate your injury, or Dad and Mom will worry."

With that, he noticed Evelyn secretly recording a video and nearly choked on his words. Though I suspect Dad and Mom’s morbid curiosity about this mess will outweigh their concern.

Penelope opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. She clutched the back of her head, swaying slightly as if the shock might send her crashing to the floor.

Edward was livid, but Julian—towering over him—hauled him up by the collar like a ragdoll. His feet kicked uselessly in the air, face flushing crimson with humiliation. "We are your elders! Have you lost your damn mind?" he roared.

Julian’s grip tightened. "Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing. Parents? You’re monsters. Thank God Celeste cut ties with you. Any longer, and you’d have skinned her alive."

Edward and Penelope gaped at him, stunned. Since when had Julian become this feral over Celeste?

Penelope found her voice, shrill with desperation. "What nonsense are you spouting? Weren’t you hurt too? This is all Celeste’s fault! As the older sister, she failed to protect Isabelle—no, she dragged her into danger! If not for her, would Isabelle’s face be ruined? Her kidneys damaged? Even if she refused to help, she owed us reparations! She knew and ran—left her sister to suffer! What kind of heartless wretch—"

Evelyn cut in with a derisive laugh. "Let me get this straight. You wanted to harvest her skin and kidney. Newsflash: Isabelle can use her own skin grafts. And kidneys? There’s a donor list. She’s not dying. So why Celeste? Do you hate her so much you’d carve her up for parts?"

Julian’s voice was pure venom. "‘Help each other’? When has Isabelle ever lifted a finger for Celeste?"

Nathan’s smirk was razor-thin. "They’ve invested too many years worshipping Isabelle to stop now."

Evelyn nodded. These fossils would rather eat glass than admit they’re wrong.

A flicker of guilt crossed Edward’s face before he snarled, "This is a family matter—"

Ah, the classic deflection. Evelyn rolled her eyes internally.

Nathan leaned forward, eyes glinting. "A ‘family matter,’ huh? Tell me… did you even bother getting tested for compatibility?"

The room went dead silent.

"Statistically, parents are the closest matches after a twin." His tone was lethally casual. "Or was sacrifice only ever meant for Celeste?"

Penelope’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. Edward looked like he’d been tasered.

Evelyn’s stomach turned. Their audacity—

"Darling," she purred, laying a hand on Nathan’s arm, "you’re being unfair. The Cowells adore both daughters. I’m sure they tested themselves first. Only failing would force them to… repurpose Celeste." Her smile was saccharine. "After all, what loving parents would mutilate their healthy daughter when they could volunteer?"

Nathan tilted his head. "Is that so?"

"Obviously! They’d never doom a young woman to scars, chronic pain, or a lifetime hiding in turtlenecks. Not when they could heroically donate themselves." She batted her lashes. "They’re parents, not butchers. Even hyenas don’t eat their own."

Nathan nodded solemnly. "An excellent point."

Julian bared his teeth. "Prove it. Get tested today."

The blood drained from Edward’s face.