Chapter 66

Evelyn Sinclair couldn't help but admire Nathan Blackwood's ability to maintain his icy, untouchable superstar persona despite the tension simmering beneath the surface. He really is a master at this, she mused, watching him navigate the strained conversation with practiced ease. Let’s see how long he can keep up the act.

Suppressing a smirk, Evelyn quickly nodded and retreated to her corner, feigning relief as if she’d narrowly avoided a social disaster. Nearby, Marcus Donovan looked like he’d been struck by lightning, his mind racing. Did my artist just accidentally set off a bomb? This could ruin everything. His fingers twitched as he mentally scrambled for damage control.

Julian Blackwood, observing Marcus’ distress from the sidelines, barely concealed his amusement. Soon, he thought, everything’s about to explode.

Without a word, everyone in the room—even those from other groups—found themselves drawn to the mirrors, adjusting partitions for a better view of the unfolding drama. Some were already whispering behind their hands, eyes gleaming with anticipation.

Meanwhile, Harrison Montgomery and Vanessa Sterling, slow to catch on to Evelyn’s earlier implications, tried to refocus on their discussion with director Preston Whitmore and producer Donovan Sharpe. But something was off. Both men were unusually stiff, avoiding eye contact, their knuckles white where they gripped their scripts.

Harrison and Vanessa exchanged confused glances.

Preston cleared his throat abruptly. "Uh… I just remembered there’s something I haven’t arranged yet."

Donovan echoed, panic creeping into his voice, "Same here—I still need to finalize the director."

The pair’s bizarre excuses left Harrison and Vanessa even more bewildered. Turning around, they realized their entire team—save for their manager, Maxwell Thornton—was suddenly engrossed in their phones or pretending not to hear.

Maxwell looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff. His gaze darted between Vanessa and Harrison, his mouth opening and closing without sound.

This can’t be happening.

Despite his frequent clashes with Natalie Whitaker, Harrison’s wife, Maxwell had been adamant about pairing Harrison with Vanessa for their marketability. But now? That story Evelyn had spun—it was about them. The realization hit him like a freight train.

Everyone heard it. They practically confirmed it themselves earlier. Private affairs are one thing, but admitting it in front of the entire crew?

Maxwell was sweating bullets.

Vanessa, sensing the shift, frowned. "What’s wrong?"

Snapping out of his daze, Maxwell grabbed their arms. "Let’s discuss this outside—now."

The moment they stepped out, the makeup room erupted—first in stunned silence, then in hushed whispers. Until—

"WHAT?!"

A woman’s shriek pierced the air from outside, sharp with shock.

Inside, someone gasped, "Holy shit," while another burst into laughter.

The murmurs swelled into excited chatter, and soon, admiring glances were being thrown Evelyn’s way. Did she plan this? No one knew for sure, but the sheer audacity of the coincidence had everyone buzzing.

Veterans in the industry exchanged glances. Never seen a scandal unfold like this before. Phones were already out, fingers flying over screens as the news spread like wildfire.

Harrison’s PR team would scramble to contain it, but the damage was done. The story was out, and the backlash was already forming.

The only one not enjoying the spectacle was Marcus, who looked like he was about to faint. He pointed a trembling finger at Evelyn.

She blinked innocently. "I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. Look into my eyes—don’t I seem genuine?"

If only Harrison hadn’t been so quick to defend Vanessa. If only Vanessa hadn’t tried to paint Evelyn as the villain right in front of him. They could’ve denied everything. But no—they’d dug their own graves.

Julian stepped in, shielding Evelyn. "You can’t blame her. How was she supposed to know they’d react like that? They brought this on themselves."

Vanessa’s voice trembled through tears. "It wasn’t like that! Evelyn lied!"

Harrison’s face went numb, the weight of public humiliation pressing down on him. This can’t be real.

Evelyn didn’t even know them. Why would she make up such a story? Even through his anger, Harrison couldn’t ignore the inconsistencies.

Vanessa sobbed harder. "Harrison, don’t you trust me? I was just upset that day—my ex-husband wouldn’t stop harassing me! I went out to clear my head and found a dress I thought you’d like!"

Harrison stiffened. "Your ex contacted you again? Why didn’t you tell me?" Memories of Vanessa’s troubled past resurfaced, stirring his protective instincts.

Guilt twisted in his chest as he looked at her tear-streaked face.

"I didn’t want to burden you more," she whispered. "I’ve already caused so much trouble between you and Natalie. What if we’re seen together again? What will your wife do?" Her voice cracked. "Why would Evelyn target me? Does Natalie know her?"

His phone rang endlessly before Natalie finally answered, the sound of retching in the background.

Irritated, Harrison snapped, "Why did it take you so long to pick up?"

A pause. Then Natalie’s hoarse voice: "What? Calling to reassure me your night was innocent?"

Harrison froze. "Enough! I don’t have time for this. Do you know Evelyn Sinclair?"

Natalie hesitated. "After Sophia brought me back to the hospital that day, I asked about her. Sophia said she’s her sister-in-law—also on the show."

Harrison’s blood ran cold. "So you do know her!"

Natalie scoffed. "So what?"

Vanessa’s eyes widened. She set me up.

Harrison’s temper exploded. "Natalie, did you ignore my last warning? You—you—"

"The dress," he seethed.

Natalie went silent. Then, softly: "Oh. You knew? And you still…"

His voice turned to ice. "If this happens again, we’re done. I can’t take this anymore."

He hung up, leaving Natalie staring at her phone, nausea rising in her throat.

The room outside was still buzzing.

And Evelyn? She merely smiled.