Chapter 122

Evelyn Sinclair blinked in surprise as Isabelle Laurent's voice crackled through the phone. "So, what do you think about Seraphina?"

The question caught her off guard. Why is everyone suddenly asking me about Seraphina today?

The lively chatter in the private dining room dimmed as Evelyn's thoughts spiraled. Nathan Blackwood, ever the silent observer, merely sipped his wine while Margaret and Genevieve exchanged curious glances.

Evelyn hesitated before voicing her confusion. "Did you hear what happened earlier?"

Isabelle sounded genuinely puzzled. "Hear what?"

Ah. So she hadn’t been informed yet.

Since it involved industry drama, Evelyn gave her new manager a brief rundown—careful not to reveal everything she knew from the Gossip System but making her stance clear. "There’s definitely been a misunderstanding. When I asked Vivienne for proof, she had nothing. Just insults."

A sharp burst of laughter erupted from the other end of the line.

"She actually tried to intimidate you into helping her? Those entitled socialites never change. Bet they nearly fainted when they realized who they were dealing with. Wish I’d been there to see it!"

Evelyn stifled a chuckle. So Isabelle enjoyed drama too. But the amusement was short-lived.

"Vivienne must’ve been desperate to confront Seraphina," Isabelle mused, her tone shifting. "Adrian probably made his intentions clear. With no other options, she needed an ally—and that’s why she reached out to us."

Evelyn frowned. "What?"

Isabelle sighed. "We exchanged contacts before. Today, she asked to join our agency."

What?

The entire Blackwood family turned in unison, their expressions mirroring Evelyn’s shock.

"Her current contract’s expiring soon," Isabelle explained. "She planned to use this show to prove her worth and land a new deal. At first, she wouldn’t have considered us—Julian’s studio only caters to him. But then you came along, and with Vivienne breathing down her neck, she took a gamble."

A pause. Isabelle’s voice softened. "I called to ask your opinion, but—"

Evelyn cut in, baffled. "Don’t you have final say on contracts?"

Isabelle laughed, clearly entertained by Evelyn’s naivety.

Marcus and Julian had hinted that Evelyn would eventually take over the agency. Even if Isabelle had authority, it was only right to consult the future boss.

But Evelyn, ever the artist, would probably find the idea of being a boss exhausting.

"Since you’d be working under the same label," Isabelle continued, "harmony matters. If you dislike her, I won’t sign her."

Evelyn scoffed. "How could I dislike her? I barely know her."

"Ninety percent of women in this industry dislike her on sight."

Evelyn’s brows shot up.

Setting aside the rumors, most actresses avoided Seraphina instinctively. The reason? Simple: her looks.

Beauty came in many forms, but Seraphina’s was the most dangerous kind.

To men, she was mesmerizing. To women? Intimidating. Her gaze held a sultry allure, her presence like a ripe fruit—impossible to ignore.

Evelyn recalled the variety show where Seraphina had been humiliated. The other female guests had maintained composure, but the moment Seraphina mounted the mechanical bull, laughter erupted. Yet she’d the challenge flawlessly, only for a guest to sneer, "Why bother competing? We can’t beat Ms. Delacroix."

The malice was palpable.

Isabelle had already discussed Seraphina’s situation with Marcus.

She admired Seraphina’s acting skills and her ability to generate buzz—controversial or not. Managing her would be a thrilling challenge. Plus, Seraphina had made significant concessions, which intrigued Isabelle.

But she wouldn’t risk Evelyn’s comfort for professional gain.

Just as she prepared to end the call, Evelyn spoke. "What did Seraphina actually do to deserve this?"

Isabelle’s breath hitched.

Evelyn pressed on. "If she were truly manipulating men, wouldn’t she have better options? Why come to us?"

Vivienne had connections, but so did the men linked to Seraphina. If she were willing to trade favors, she could’ve secured a better deal.

Yet she’d approached Isabelle—a woman who valued professionalism over scandal.

That spoke volumes.

Margaret and Genevieve nodded in silent agreement.

Isabelle chuckled. "You’re not wrong. She agreed to sign for far less than she’s worth—but with one condition."

Evelyn leaned in. "Which is?"

A beat of silence. Then—

"She won’t sell her body."

The room went deathly quiet.

Evelyn’s expression darkened.

In that moment, it felt like a woman battered by fate was clawing her way back—refusing to drown.