Chapter 51
The room plunged into an unsettling silence the moment those words were spoken.
The Blackwoods nearly jumped from the couch in unison. Elope?
Evelyn Sinclair sensed the ripple of shock coursing through those seated beside her. Yet when she glanced around, everyone remained frozen, their gazes locked onto Genevieve—stunned by the sheer absurdity of what she had just proposed.
Genevieve’s face twisted in confusion. She hadn’t expected Evelyn to somehow know about the half-formed plan that hadn’t even been finalized yet.
She didn’t actually want to elope. The thought terrified her. But Camille had kept pushing, whispering in her ear, and she had wavered.
Genevieve still hoped to convince her family, but their earlier refusal had shaken her resolve.
She had thought—if she acted recklessly, if she forced their hand—they would have no choice but to accept Damian. Once they did, they wouldn’t lock her away or send her abroad. And with time, they’d see he wasn’t the monster they believed him to be.
But now, under the weight of their disbelieving stares, shame burned through her. She barely registered Evelyn’s next thought.
Unaware of the tension, Camille nudged Genevieve, unwilling to let this naive girl back down now.
That single movement caught Evelyn’s attention.
Ah, so the food delivery was actually ordered by that deceitful best friend of hers. The idiot only knew how to microwave it and pretend he cooked it—trying to fool Genevieve when she woke up. Evelyn smirked inwardly.
Genevieve’s mind spun. No! That can’t be true! That moment wasn’t fake!
She had sworn she could taste the love in that meal. For that, she really should thank the chef at that cheap Clusian takeout chain. Three dishes and a soup for under thirty bucks—what a bargain! Evelyn mused.
Genevieve’s eyes widened. As much as she wanted to deny it, Evelyn’s thoughts were too detailed to dismiss.
I should order from that place every day while she’s home. Let her taste that “love” for a month straight. See if she doesn’t get sick of it.
Genevieve swayed, barely keeping herself upright.
Camille steadied her, putting on a sorrowful expression. “Please stop tormenting Gen,” she pleaded. “Maybe to you, Damian cooking for her means nothing. But it was a gesture straight from his heart. He’s never done that for anyone else.”
Ha! Of course he hasn’t—because he can’t even boil water! Evelyn scoffed internally.
Camille continued, righteous fury burning in her voice. “Even if you dislike him, don’t trample on his sincerity.”
Her words were so impassioned, so brave—if not for Evelyn’s inner monologue, the Blackwoods might have actually been fooled.
Nathan Blackwood leaned forward, his dark eyes glinting. “Fine. If you insist, invite your brother over.”
Camille froze. “...What?”
“Let him come here and cook for us. If we feel his sincerity, we won’t stand in their way.”
Oh, Nathan, you genius. Evelyn barely suppressed a laugh. This is going to be hilarious. That girl’s probably sweating bullets now.
Camille paled. Her body locked up, words failing her.
Genevieve clung to her like a lifeline. “Just ask Damian to come. One meal, and we can be together.”
Camille’s voice turned strained. “Gen, you know how he is. He won’t agree.”
“Why not?” Genevieve’s voice cracked. “He cooked for me before. Doesn’t he want this?”
Julian Blackwood let out a cold laugh. “Let me get this straight. When my sister was living with him, it wasn’t insulting for her to wait on him hand and foot. But us asking him to cook one meal is too much? That’s some double standard.”
Richard and Margaret had long stopped paying attention to this farce.
“Do you see now, Gen?” Julian pressed. “He won’t lift a finger to prove himself. Is this the man you chose? Where’s this great love you keep talking about? All talk, no action.”
Margaret’s voice was icy. “He won’t even try to earn our approval. All he cares about is luring you into secret rendezvous, living together—no responsibility, no commitment. In our eyes, he’s not even a real man.”
Then Evelyn’s next thought cut through the tension like a knife.
Ah, true love. She’s so protective. It’s almost… perverted.
Wait—what?
Every head swiveled toward Camille. Her furious, red-eyed glare could be interpreted as sisterly devotion… or something far more twisted.
No way. They wouldn’t… would they?
Genevieve stared in horror, shaking her head. This is insane.
Then Nathan’s calm voice shattered the silence.
“Even though you two are stepsiblings with no blood relation, your bond seems… stronger than most.”
The words landed like a hammer.
The room went deathly quiet.
Nathan’s statement—paired with Evelyn’s thoughts—painted a very disturbing picture.
Margaret’s voice was barely a whisper. “Gen… did you know they weren’t blood-related?”
But Genevieve was beyond responding, her face ghostly pale.
“Why didn’t you mention this sooner?” Richard demanded.
Nathan shrugged. “They grew up together. To outsiders, they seemed like any other siblings.”
Until now.
The Blackwoods finally understood Evelyn’s earlier expression when she saw Camille.
If those two are involved… where does that leave Genevieve?