Chapter 41

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse, illuminating the scattered documents on her desk. Her fingers trembled slightly as she traced the edge of a faded photograph—one she hadn’t seen in years.

Nathan Blackwood and Victoria Hayes.

The image was taken at a gala, their smiles bright, their bodies angled toward each other in a way that spoke of intimacy. Evelyn’s stomach twisted.

How long had this been going on?

Her assistant, Lillian Graves, knocked lightly before entering, her expression cautious. “Evelyn, you have a call from Preston Whitmore. He says it’s urgent.”

Evelyn exhaled sharply, shoving the photo aside. “Tell him I’ll call back.”

Lillian hesitated. “He mentioned it’s about the Midnight Secrets project. The studio is reconsidering your lead role.”

A bitter laugh escaped Evelyn’s lips. Of course. First Nathan’s betrayal, now her career was slipping through her fingers.

“Fine. Put him through.”

As Lillian retreated, Evelyn’s phone buzzed with another notification—a message from an unknown number.

"You don’t know the half of it, Evelyn. Meet me at The Velvet Lounge tonight. Come alone."

Her pulse quickened. Was this a trap? Or did someone else know about Nathan and Victoria?

Across town, Nathan Blackwood paced his office, his jaw clenched. His brother, Julian, leaned against the desk, arms crossed.

“You’re being reckless,” Julian warned. “If Evelyn finds out—”

“She already suspects,” Nathan snapped. “Victoria made sure of that.”

Julian’s eyes darkened. “Then fix it. Before she digs deeper.”

Nathan’s phone lit up with a call—Victoria’s name flashing on the screen. He ignored it.

Meanwhile, at The Velvet Lounge, a shadowy figure waited in a secluded booth, swirling a glass of whiskey. The dim lighting obscured their face, but their lips curled into a smirk as they glanced at the entrance.

Evelyn would come.

And when she did, the game would change forever.

Though Evelyn had inherited the original owner's memories, this was her first time meeting Genevieve in person.

Genevieve had an enchanting, doll-like beauty. Her button nose and rosebud lips perfectly complemented her large, doe eyes—clear and sparkling with the innocent charm of a college girl. Her porcelain skin looked so delicate it might bruise at a touch. She resembled a sheltered princess who had never faced the harsh realities of the world, her naivety radiating from every gesture.

"Julian, didn't you hurt your hand? Stop pulling!" Genevieve protested weakly, trying to wriggle free.

Julian dragged her toward Margaret, complaining, "Mom, I just caught Gen tangled up with some street thug! You need to grill her properly before she gets fooled by shady characters!"

Genevieve flushed, her voice trembling as she defended, "Julian! You can’t talk about Damian like that! He’s not a thug! How can you judge him just by his looks? Just because he has dyed hair, piercings, and tattoos doesn’t make him bad!"

Tears welled in her eyes, as if someone had insulted a masterpiece she'd poured her soul into. Too timid to argue outright, she muttered under her breath, "Plenty of artists in the industry look like that too. Julian, you’ve dyed your hair every color under the sun—does that make you a delinquent?"

"I’m not talking about his appearance! It’s his behavior! The way he was acting—"

Genevieve’s face burned scarlet. "Julian, stop!"

Julian scoffed, throwing his hands up. "I don’t have time for this. I’m going to wait for Celeste." With that, he stormed out.

Head bowed, Genevieve still managed a polite greeting. "Mom, Sophia, Evelyn… I’m home. Please don’t listen to Julian. Damian is a good person."

The Blackwoods were progressive when it came to their children’s relationships—but Evelyn had already filled them in. As Genevieve’s family, they couldn’t help but side-eye her rough-around-the-edges boyfriend.

With that look and attitude? Total troublemaker.

They couldn’t picture their sweet, sheltered girl standing beside someone like him.

Margaret fretted, "Since when have you been dating behind our backs? Who is he? A student? Does he work? How long have you known each other?"

Sophia frowned. "Genevieve, did you even message the driver to pick you up from the airport? Did that boy bring you home? You should’ve told us you were coming!"

The Blackwood family mansion was unusually tense that afternoon. Genevieve sat stiffly in the living room, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her dress as Margaret and Sophia bombarded her with questions about her new boyfriend.

"It's Damian Prescott. We've known each other for a while," Genevieve explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "You remember him, right?"

At the mention of the Prescott name, Margaret and Sophia visibly relaxed. At least he wasn’t some stranger with questionable intentions.

Genevieve hesitated before continuing, her cheeks flushing. "We only started dating recently. I was hesitant at first, but... he’s different. He’s always there when I need him, the first to step up when there’s trouble. He’s responsible, kind... and I really like him."

Her words were laced with sincerity, her eyes shining with affection. Yet, Margaret and Sophia exchanged wary glances. Love was unpredictable, and they weren’t entirely convinced of Damian’s sincerity.

Just then, Evelyn—who had been silently observing—let out an amused scoff. Genevieve, mistaking it for a slight against Damian, immediately jumped to his defense. "What’s so funny?"

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard. She hadn’t expected Genevieve to address her directly. "Nothing," she replied smoothly, though inwardly, she found it amusing how defensive Genevieve was being.

Margaret, sensing the brewing tension, quickly intervened. "Never mind that. Your father and Julian aren’t home yet. We’ll discuss this properly when they return. For now, why don’t you rest? You must be tired."

Genevieve nodded obediently, and Sophia followed her upstairs, eager to fill her in on Evelyn’s peculiar situation.

Once in her room, Genevieve listened in stunned silence as Sophia explained. "Wait—you’re telling me we can hear Evelyn’s thoughts?"

Sophia sighed. "Yes, and it’s as bizarre as it sounds. Nathan’s been discreetly looking for a solution—maybe a priest or something—because if Evelyn ever finds out, it could backfire horribly. No one wants their private thoughts exposed."

Genevieve frowned, struggling to process it. "But... why keep it from her?"

"Because," Sophia said firmly, "it’s her secret. If word gets out, she could be in real danger. So not a word to anyone, understand?"

The gravity in Sophia’s tone made Genevieve nod solemnly, though she still had her doubts.

Just then, Genevieve’s phone buzzed—undoubtedly Damian. She gave Sophia pleading puppy-dog eyes, and Sophia rolled hers before turning to leave.

But before she could, a sudden, anguished cry echoed from downstairs.

Was that... Julian?