Chapter 18

The grand ballroom of the Blackwood estate shimmered under the glow of crystal chandeliers, casting dancing shadows across the marble floors. Evelyn Sinclair adjusted her emerald-green mask, the delicate lace brushing against her flushed cheeks. Around her, masked guests in elaborate costumes whispered behind gloved hands, their identities hidden beneath layers of silk and velvet.

Nathan Blackwood stood at the center of the room, his dark suit tailored to perfection, a silver wolf mask obscuring his piercing gaze. He had been watching her all evening—Evelyn could feel it. Every time she turned, his presence lingered like a shadow, both thrilling and unnerving.

Victoria Hayes, dressed in a scandalously low-cut crimson gown, sidled up to him, her ruby lips curved into a smirk. "You’re neglecting your guests, Mr. Blackwood," she purred, fingers trailing along his arm.

Nathan barely spared her a glance. "Some guests require more attention than others." His voice was low, meant only for her ears, but Evelyn caught the tension beneath his words.

Serena Whitmore, Evelyn’s ever-watchful agent, nudged her elbow. "Stop staring. You’re here to network, not to moon over him."

Evelyn forced a smile. "I’m not mooning. I’m strategizing."

"Then strategize faster. The press is already speculating about you two."

Before Evelyn could retort, the orchestra struck up a waltz. The crowd parted as Nathan strode toward her, his movements deliberate. He stopped mere inches away, the heat of his body radiating through the thin fabric of her dress.

"May I have this dance, Miss Sinclair?" His voice was velvet, laced with something dangerous.

Evelyn hesitated. Dancing with him was a risk—one that could unravel everything she’d worked for. But the challenge in his eyes was impossible to resist.

She placed her hand in his. "Don’t step on my toes."

Nathan’s lips quirked. "No promises."

As they swept across the floor, the room seemed to fade away. The whispers grew louder, the stares more intense. But Evelyn barely noticed. Not when his grip on her waist tightened, not when his breath ghosted over her ear.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he murmured.

She met his gaze, unflinching. "So are you."

A slow smirk curled his lips. "Then let’s see who blinks first."

The music swelled, the tension between them thickening like smoke. And then—

A crash echoed through the ballroom.

The crowd gasped as a masked figure stumbled into the center of the dance floor, their costume torn, their breath ragged. The stranger ripped off their mask, revealing a face Evelyn hadn’t seen in years.

Cassandra.

Nathan’s first love.

His grip on Evelyn tightened painfully before he released her abruptly, his expression unreadable.

Cassandra’s voice trembled as she pointed at Evelyn. "She’s the one who ruined everything!"

Silence.

Then chaos.

Evelyn’s pulse roared in her ears as the guests erupted into shocked murmurs. Nathan’s jaw clenched, his gaze flickering between the two women.

Serena grabbed Evelyn’s arm, her grip iron. "We need to leave. Now."

But Evelyn couldn’t move. Not when Cassandra’s accusation hung in the air like a guillotine’s blade.

Nathan took a step forward, his voice cutting through the noise. "Explain."

Cassandra’s lips curled into a bitter smile. "Ask her. Ask Evelyn what she did."

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

The game had just changed.

And she had no idea what the next move was.

The morning sun cast golden streaks across the lavish penthouse as Evelyn Sinclair tightened her grip on the leather-bound portfolio. Her emerald eyes burned with quiet fury, the documents inside condemning Nathan Blackwood beyond any doubt.

He deserves this.

The thought echoed in her mind like a mantra.

Victoria Hayes had delivered the damning evidence last night—emails, bank transfers, even a recorded confession. All proving Nathan’s betrayal. Evelyn had spent hours poring over them, her heart hardening with each revelation.

A knock at the door startled her.

"Evelyn?" Lillian Graves, her ever-loyal assistant, stepped inside, concern etched on her face. "Nathan’s downstairs. He’s demanding to see you."

Evelyn’s lips curled into a cold smile. "Perfect timing."

She strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the city skyline. Below, Nathan stood in the lobby, his usual arrogance replaced by visible agitation. His tailored suit was rumpled, his dark hair disheveled—proof that he hadn’t slept.

Good.

"Let him wait," Evelyn murmured.

Lillian hesitated. "He says it’s urgent. That he can explain—"

"There’s nothing to explain." Evelyn turned, the morning light framing her like a vengeful goddess. "He made his choices. Now he’ll face the consequences."

Her phone buzzed—a message from Preston Whitmore, the director of her upcoming film.

"We need to talk. Urgent."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. Nathan’s scandal was already spreading.

Downstairs, Nathan paced the marble lobby, his jaw clenched. The security guards eyed him warily. He’d never been denied access before—never been treated like an outsider in Evelyn’s world.

His phone rang. Julian, his brother.

"Where the hell are you?" Julian’s voice was sharp. "The press is swarming the office. They’re calling it corporate espionage!"

Nathan’s stomach twisted. "I’ll handle it."

"You can’t handle this!" Julian snapped. "Evelyn’s team leaked everything. You’re ."

Nathan’s gaze flicked to the elevator doors, willing Evelyn to appear.

She didn’t.

Upstairs, Evelyn finally descended, her heels clicking like a countdown to his ruin. The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood—radiant, untouchable.

Nathan stepped forward. "Evelyn, please—"

She held up a hand, silencing him. "Save it, Nathan. The world knows the truth now."

His throat tightened. "You don’t understand—"

"I understand perfectly." Her voice was ice. "You used me. Stole from me. And for what? A pathetic power grab?"

The lobby’s glass doors burst open. Reporters surged in, cameras flashing.

Nathan recoiled. "You called them?"

Evelyn smiled. "No. But I didn’t stop them either."

The betrayal in his eyes almost made her falter. Almost.

Then she turned and walked away, leaving him to the wolves.

He deserves it.

And this was only the beginning.

Julian’s mind was a tangled mess. After forcing himself to entertain guests alongside Nathan for a while, he finally slipped away unnoticed.

Nathan barely spared Julian a second thought—he’d only kept him around to discuss matters concerning Evelyn.

Meanwhile, Celeste stood quietly, watching as Edward and Penelope shamelessly boasted about Isabelle to their social circle, acting as if she didn’t exist. By now, their neglect barely registered—she’d grown numb to it.

But something else unsettled her. A heavy, lingering gaze burned into her skin, making her shift uncomfortably.

She glanced around, but the crowd was too dense to pinpoint the source. Uneasy, she retreated to the bathroom for a moment of solitude.

The Blackwood family had arranged luxurious restrooms at the end of the hall, segregated by gender.

Celeste had just reached the ladies’ room when a rough shove from behind sent her stumbling inside.

“Ah!” Her startled cry was muffled by a hand clamping over her mouth.

Before she could react, a man slammed her against the tiled wall.

Her breath hitched as she recognized him—a spoiled heir from some wealthy family. She’d seen him at events before but never exchanged more than passing glances.

Celeste glared, defiance flashing in her eyes.

The man smirked, fingers curling into the delicate fabric of her dress. “Playing hard to get, huh? I don’t care whose fiancée you are. Tonight, you’ll learn what happens when you cross me—”

A sickening tear echoed as her dress ripped.

Her vision blurred with tears. Disbelief and panic choked her. She thrashed, but his grip was iron.

Hot breath ghosted over her neck. A sob tore from her throat.

Then—

BANG!

The door crashed open.

“You’ve got a death wish?”

The weight crushing her vanished. Celeste collapsed to the floor, trembling. When she looked up, Julian stood there, gripping the man’s collar like a vice.

Rage darkened Julian’s face. His fist connected with a brutal crack, sending the man sprawling.

His gaze flicked to Celeste—her torn dress, the exposed skin of her thigh. He turned away instantly, jaw tight.

“Fix yourself.”

After his sharp words, Julian flung his coat toward Celeste and dragged the man out of the bathroom, his grip unyielding.

Rage burned through Julian like wildfire, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles cracked. The fury was overwhelming, but he managed to restrain himself—this wasn’t the place for a scene.

Instead, he hauled the man into the deserted garden, throwing him onto the grass before delivering several brutal kicks.

The man groaned, scrambling to his feet with a sneer. "Julian, have you lost your mind? You’re defending her when you’re already involved with her sister? You don’t even acknowledge her as your fiancée! What, did you come here to catch her cheating?"

Julian’s expression darkened like a storm. "Regardless of who she is to me, I won’t tolerate this kind of disgrace in the Blackwood estate. She clearly wasn’t willing—what the hell were you thinking?"

The man scoffed. "You don’t know a damn thing. That was just foreplay—she loves it rough!"

Julian froze, disbelief flashing across his face.

"What did you just say?"

The man wiped blood from his lip, smirking. "I didn’t make you a cuckold. That little witch seduced me, then tossed me aside after three months. You think I’d just let that slide?"

Something inside Julian snapped. He lunged forward, fingers closing around the man’s throat. "Say that again!"

The man choked out a laugh. "What, jealous? You don’t want her, so no one else can?"

Julian’s vision burned red—he was seconds from breaking the man’s jaw when Nathan suddenly appeared, gripping his arm.

"Enough," Nathan said sharply. "Julian, control yourself."

Nathan pulled the man away, sensing the danger in Julian’s silence. "The guests are waiting. Father’s looking for you."

Julian exhaled harshly, his pulse still roaring in his ears. When he turned, Celeste stood there, clutching his coat, her face ghostly pale.

He moved to walk past her, but she blurted out, "It wasn’t me!"

Julian paused, meeting her defiant gaze.

"It was Isabelle," Celeste insisted, her voice trembling. "She set this up—she wanted you to see—"

"Celeste," Julian growled.

The coldness in his voice made her flinch.

"Enough lies," he said, his tone dripping with disdain. "After everything, you still blame Isabelle?"

A bitter laugh escaped him. "She’s spent years feeling guilty over you, holding back because of our engagement. And for what? You’re not worth it."

Celeste’s breath hitched.

"I’ve only ever loved one woman," Julian said coldly. "The one who saved my life years ago. And that woman is Isabelle. Our engagement is over."

Celeste’s lips parted. "So… you knew. You knew how I felt."

Something twisted in Julian’s chest, but he ignored it. "Consider this a favor. But if you ever hurt Isabelle again—"

Before he could finish, Nathan and Evelyn arrived, frowning at the scene.

"What’s going on?" Nathan demanded. "We agreed to handle this privately."

Julian clenched his jaw. "It’s nothing."

Nathan’s gaze flicked to Celeste’s torn dress, his expression hardening. Evelyn noticed too, her eyes narrowing as she guided Celeste away.

But as she passed Julian, Evelyn muttered under her breath—just loud enough for him to hear:

"He thinks Isabelle saved him. Should I tell him it was actually Celeste? Nah. Let him suffer. He deserves it."

Julian’s blood ran cold.

Nathan caught his arm before he could react. "Enough."

Julian whirled on him. "Did you hear that? She’s lost her mind!"

Nathan studied him, unreadable. "Answer me this: If it was Celeste who saved you, not Isabelle, would your decision change?"

Julian recoiled. "What kind of question is that? Of course not!"

Nathan’s silence was damning.

Julian’s voice rose. "I was there—I know who pulled me out of that fire! The Cowells confirmed it, Isabelle confirmed it—even Celeste never denied it!"

Nathan exhaled. "The truth isn’t always what we remember."

Julian laughed, incredulous. "You’re seriously buying into Evelyn’s delusions?"

But Nathan didn’t answer. And that—more than anything—shook Julian to his core.

Julian's emotions were boiling over, his words tumbling out unchecked. "Are you suggesting Celeste can't handle the truth and is pretending she was the one who rescued me? Does she really believe that would make me choose her? Ha! Not a chance in hell!"

Nathan's voice remained icy. "Don't overcomplicate things. Evelyn knows something we don't. Whether it's a misunderstanding or not, we'll settle it face-to-face later. But ask yourself this—if there was a mix-up, who would you pick?"

"What I love about Isabelle is her purity, her goodness. Even if she hadn't saved me that night, I'd still choose her—without hesitation!"

A shadow crossed Nathan's face. I don't know Celeste well, but Isabelle is no angel. How can Julian be so blind?

Then it hit him. Evelyn had been right all along. Julian did deserve this for his mistake.