Chapter 440

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"Seriously? Evelyn hit herself?"

Her cheek was swollen—had she really gone that far?

Evelyn's face paled, her flushed skin turning ghostly white. "Arabella, what nonsense are you spouting? Why would I hit myself?"

"I think you did lose your mind," Arabella drawled, shrugging. "Not only are you unhinged, but you also scared the hell out of me. I'm being generous not suing you for emotional distress, and here you are, trying to pin this on me? Just because you're a Vanderbilt, you think you can play dirty?"

The room erupted in murmurs.

Camera flashes exploded in Evelyn's direction, capturing her ashen expression.

"Ms. Sinclair's reputation is impeccable. She's known for her charity work—even covered funeral expenses for that Abernathy family servant. Why would she frame Evelyn?"

"Even if Arabella did hit her, there must've been a reason."

"Maybe it was a catfight over jealousy, but violence is never justified. I'm starting to doubt Arabella's character!"

Arabella was sick of these petty theatrics. If Evelyn wanted to scheme, couldn’t she at least be creative?

Truth didn’t need defending. Being misunderstood didn’t faze her.

Besides, Evelyn had done the damage to herself—that was the real win.

Just as Arabella turned to leave, a sharp voice cut through the crowd.

"Evelyn! What happened to you? Who did this?"

The crowd parted, revealing Reginald Vanderbilt flanked by family and bodyguards.

"Grandfather. Mother." Evelyn's eyes welled with tears, her lips trembling.

Seeing her daughter disheveled, cheeks swollen, and Arabella standing there coolly, Mrs. Vanderbilt immediately assumed the worst.

"Help her up!"

At Reginald's command, bodyguards rushed forward, shielding Evelyn from the cameras.

"Oh, Evelyn!" Mrs. Vanderbilt pulled her daughter close, glaring at Arabella. "Ms. Sinclair! If you have a problem with me, take it up with me. Why attack my daughter?"

"Mother, don’t upset yourself. I’m fine." Evelyn patted her mother’s arm, playing the victim.

The scene was heartbreaking—to anyone who didn’t know better.

Then the Sinclairs arrived, shifting the atmosphere.

Evelyn’s crude scheme had escalated, dragging in the heavyweights.

"William, your daughter has quite the temper—striking someone in public," Reginald said coldly, gripping his cane. "Clearly, you indulge her. But every child is precious. Arabella is yours, and Evelyn is mine. I demand an explanation!"

The Vanderbilts weren’t to be trifled with.

If this had been anyone else, they’d have been crushed.

Sebastian’s gaze darkened as he stared at Evelyn, making her shrink into her mother’s arms.

Eleanor rushed to Arabella’s side, gripping her hand. "Arabella, are you hurt?"

Her words made the Vanderbilt women seethe with envy.

"I’m fine, Mother. Don’t worry."

"Arabella would never attack someone unprovoked. Others might doubt her, but we don’t." Eleanor’s icy stare pinned Evelyn in place.

William frowned, studying his daughter with a conflicted expression.

He wasn’t concerned about Arabella hitting someone—if she had, so be it. His daughter had dealt with plenty of troublemakers before.

His worry was the fallout.

If this spread, how would the public see her?

Reputation mattered. If she was to lead Sinclair Holdings one day, she needed credibility. Otherwise, rivals would use this against her.

"Reginald, Mrs. Vanderbilt, where’s your proof?"

A calm voice cut through the tension.

All eyes turned to Nathaniel Kingsley as he stepped forward.

Arabella’s gaze remained cool, unreadable.

She didn’t need saving—and if she did, she’d prefer it came from Alexander.

Not Nathaniel.

"Mr. Kingsley, are you suggesting Evelyn framed Arabella?" Reginald’s voice was sharp.

"Whether she did or not is for her to answer. One wrong move could ruin her."

Nathaniel moved to stand before Arabella, his gaze tender, oblivious to the whispers around them.

"The Kingsley heir is clearly smitten. First the charity auction, now this—risking the Vanderbilts’ wrath? His stance is obvious."

"I don’t get William’s hesitation. One’s the CEO of Abernathy Enterprises, the other’s the Kingsley golden boy."

"If you ask me, Nathaniel’s the clear choice. Spotless reputation. Alexander? He’s a walking scandal—first Acacia, now Evelyn. What parent would want that for their child?"

Evelyn’s heart pounded. She’d never met Nathaniel, yet something about him terrified her.

His voice, his presence—it felt familiar.

And the fear was suffocating.

"Mr. Kingsley, are you accusing my daughter of lying?" Mrs. Vanderbilt’s voice shook. "She’s been beaten, and you’re defending her attacker? I know your families are close, but this is too much!"

Evelyn’s mind raced. She’d checked—no cameras in that hallway.

So why was Nathaniel so confident? Had he seen something?

"Evelyn," Nathaniel pressed closer, his dark eyes glinting. "Did Arabella really hit you?"

Her throat tightened.

"Words have consequences. Don’t wait until the truth comes out—regret has no cure."

Silence.

The crowd waited.

Those seconds stretched into agony.

Finally, under Nathaniel’s lethal gaze, she cracked.

"I—I had a disagreement with Ms. Sinclair. I lost my footing and... hit the door. Fell."

She didn’t mention the slap.

But the admission was enough.

Gasps erupted.

"She did hit herself? That’s twisted!"

"Clearly, Nathaniel pressured her into confessing. Did you see how she folded?"

"Pathetic. If it were me, I’d never admit it. Make him prove it!"

"And you’re defending her? This is slander. If the Sinclairs press charges, Evelyn’s finished."

Nathaniel had cleared the mess effortlessly.

Yet Arabella showed no gratitude.

William’s tension eased, and he nodded approvingly at Nathaniel.

Sebastian slung an arm around Arabella’s shoulders, addressing Reginald calmly.

"Mr. Vanderbilt, does your granddaughter still require an apology? If you insist, we can settle this legally after the derby. Bring the lawyers, decide at the station—public or private."

William smirked internally.

He couldn’t say it himself, but Sebastian—young and bold—could.

Mrs. Vanderbilt panicked, clutching Evelyn. Reginald’s face darkened.

Sebastian’s lips curled. "The Sinclairs own our actions. But if someone frames my sister, I won’t let it slide. I’m sure you, as a doting grandfather, understand."

The Vanderbilts were cornered.

Agree, and risk exposure. Refuse, and look guilty.

"Misunderstanding! Just a misunderstanding!"

Dominic Vanderbilt stepped in, chuckling. "Kids fight! Evelyn’s just... spirited. Spoiled. Says things she doesn’t mean. Our families go way back. My brother and William were close. Evelyn’s his legacy—she’s not that far gone."

William’s anger cooled.

He’d admired Evelyn’s father. His death had been a loss.

Had he lived, the Vanderbilts would’ve rivaled the Abernathys.

"Enough. The derby’s a celebration. We won’t ruin it over this." William waved a hand magnanimously. "Reginald, if Evelyn apologizes, we’ll consider it settled."

Evelyn’s vision went red.

Apologizing to Arabella? Worse than a knife to the gut.

"Evelyn, apologize. Now." Reginald’s voice was ice.

Trembling, she forced the words out.

"I’m sorry. It was my fault."

Arabella smiled sweetly. "It’s fine. Just don’t do it again. Your ‘tantrums’ could ruin someone. Not everyone can stand up to the Vanderbilts."

The crowd stiffened.

A gift wrapped in poison—ruthless.

Two hashtags trended instantly:

#EvelynHitsHerself

#EvelynApologizesToArabella

[LMAO Evelyn hit herself? Performance art?]

[She needs therapy. The Vanderbilts should check her into a clinic.]

Evelyn was the day’s laughingstock—and the Vanderbilts’ reputation tanked with her.

Reginald shot Evelyn a disappointed glare and stormed off.

Mrs. Vanderbilt, defeated, followed, with Dominic at their side.

"Thank you, Dominic," Mrs. Vanderbilt whispered tearfully.

"Family looks out for family." His smile was cryptic.

Without her husband, she felt powerless. "Alexander’s obsessed with that Abernathy girl. He’s forgotten us."

"Don’t say that. He’s filial. And without your approval, that girl will never be your daughter-in-law."

Mrs. Vanderbilt nodded, resolve hardening.

Meanwhile, William clapped Nathaniel’s shoulder warmly.

"Nathaniel, I owe you. You saved Arabella’s reputation—and our family’s honor. How can I thank you?"

Nathaniel’s gaze lingered on Arabella. "No thanks needed. My loyalty’s always been to Arabella—to your family. If you insist, just let me see her more often. That’s all I ask."