Chapter 197

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse, casting a golden glow over the sleek modern furnishings. She stretched lazily, her silk nightgown slipping off one shoulder as she reached for her phone. The screen lit up with a barrage of notifications—mostly from her agent, Serena Whitmore, and a few from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant.

Evelyn sighed, scrolling through the messages. The press had gotten wind of her latest project with Nathan Blackwood, and the rumors were spiraling out of control. "Evelyn Sinclair and Nathan Blackwood: More Than Just Co-Stars?" one headline screamed. She rolled her eyes. The media loved to twist every interaction into a scandal.

She tapped out a quick reply to Serena: "Tell them to focus on the film, not fabricated drama."

Just as she set her phone down, it buzzed again—this time with a direct message from Nathan himself.

"You awake? We need to talk."

Evelyn’s pulse quickened. Nathan wasn’t one for casual texts, especially not this early. She typed back: "About?"

His reply was immediate. "The script changes. And… other things."

Before she could respond, another message popped up—this one from Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s sharp-tongued secretary. "Mr. Blackwood requests your presence at his office at 10 AM. Don’t be late."

Evelyn scoffed. Victoria had never been subtle about her disdain for her. Still, curiosity gnawed at her. What "other things" did Nathan want to discuss?

She dressed quickly, opting for a tailored blazer and fitted trousers—professional yet effortlessly chic. As she stepped into the elevator, her reflection stared back at her: determined, composed, but with a flicker of something else—anticipation?

Nathan’s office was all sleek glass and polished steel, a reflection of the man himself: controlled, imposing, and impossible to ignore. He stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, his back to her, the cityscape stretching endlessly behind him.

"You wanted to talk?" Evelyn said, crossing her arms.

Nathan turned, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "The studio wants to add a love scene."

Evelyn blinked. "What?"

"Page 78. They think it’ll ‘heighten the tension.’" His tone was dry, but his jaw tightened slightly.

She exhaled sharply. "Of course they do."

A beat of silence passed between them, charged with something unspoken. Then Nathan stepped closer, his voice dropping. "There’s something else."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "Which is?"

He hesitated—uncharacteristic for a man who always knew exactly what to say. "I need you to trust me."

Before she could demand an explanation, the door swung open, and Victoria strode in, her heels clicking sharply against the marble floor. "Your next meeting starts in five, Mr. Blackwood."

Nathan’s expression shuttered, the moment broken. "We’ll continue this later," he murmured, his eyes never leaving Evelyn’s.

She nodded, though unease coiled in her stomach. Whatever he wasn’t saying, it was big.

And she had a feeling it would change everything.

The golden chandeliers cast shimmering reflections across the ballroom as whispers slithered through the crowd like snakes. Nathan Blackwood had always carried himself with unshakable integrity—no scandals, no deceit, nothing to tarnish his polished reputation. So when he dropped the bombshell, Evelyn Sinclair watched as Cassandra’s carefully constructed facade crumbled in real time.

Evelyn had expected to step in, to defend, to counterattack—but Nathan had seized control of the narrative before she could even blink.

He knew.

The realization struck her like lightning. All this time, he had been aware of Cassandra’s lies. The staged illness, the dramatic breakup, the self-imposed exile abroad—none of it had fooled him.

And now, he was dismantling her deception in front of everyone.

“Are you suggesting the illness was a sham?” Daniel Wright, ever the quick-witted observer, voiced what the entire room was thinking.

Nathan’s gaze never wavered from Cassandra’s paling face. She looked like a cornered animal, her breath coming in shallow gasps as the murmurs around them crescendoed into a storm.

“Fake?” someone hissed.

“I never heard about her being sick. Even if it was kept quiet, there would’ve been some rumor.”

“She went abroad to study, didn’t she? The Smiths shifted their business overseas with her.”

“Exactly! It was all about expanding their empire, not some tragic illness.”

Laughter, sharp and mocking, rippled through the crowd.

“Oh, this is rich,” a woman sneered. “Breaking up over a terminal illness, fleeing the country—straight out of a telenovela.”

“Too bad Nathan refused to play the grieving lover.”

Cassandra’s fingers dug into the tablecloth, her knuckles white. The weight of their judgment pressed down on her, suffocating.

Evelyn watched, stunned. Nathan had orchestrated this moment perfectly. He hadn’t just exposed Cassandra—he’d humiliated her.

And the best part?

He hadn’t even needed her help.

A slow smirk curled Evelyn’s lips.

Tsk, tsk. You really thought you could manipulate him, didn’t you?

Nathan had let Cassandra spin her web, allowed her to believe she still held power over him. But the moment she tried to use that fabricated illness to guilt him, to control him—he’d struck back with surgical precision.

The crowd buzzed, hungry for the final act.

“So if she wasn’t sick,” Daniel mused, eyes gleaming with amusement, “why the dramatic exit?”

Nathan’s smile was ice.

“That,” he said softly, “is the real question.”

The room held its breath.

And Cassandra?

She had no answer.

Karma had come full circle, and it was a sight to behold.

“What in the world is happening? Cassandra, are you lying to us?”

Vivian Grant couldn’t hold back her outburst. As someone who wore her heart on her sleeve, she had been genuinely concerned for Cassandra, even drowning in guilt for not reaching out after Cassandra had gone silent.

Now, faced with the possibility that it had all been a lie, Vivian was furious.

Beatrice Holloway, who had mostly stayed out of the conversation until now, couldn’t hide her irritation. “Cassandra, how could you fabricate something so serious?”

Claire Morgan’s brows knitted together in worry. Though she agreed with Nathan, she still voiced her doubts. “Cassandra, could there be a misunderstanding? Lillian mentioned you stayed at a nursing home, didn’t she?”

Lillian Graves, who had been pushed to the edge by the collapse of her favorite couple, clenched her jaw. It felt like she was betraying her own devotion. She suddenly grabbed Cassandra’s arm, demanding, “You were really sick, weren’t you? You left because you loved Nathan too much to let him see you suffer, right? And now you’re cured—that’s why you came back to him, isn’t it?”

If this narrative held, there might still be hope for Nathan and Cassandra.

That way, Lillian could keep rooting for them.

Cassandra knew she couldn’t admit the truth. Spreading rumors could be dismissed as a desperate act of love, but faking an illness? That would ruin her reputation beyond repair.

“Of course it’s true. Why would I lie about something like this? If I wasn’t sick, why would I have broken up with Nathan?” Cassandra’s voice trembled with emotion, her eyes brimming with despair as she looked at Nathan.

“I don’t remember any school medical check-up. I had my tests done privately with my family, and that’s when we found out. After that, I went through multiple confirmations. I took so many leaves—my mood was terrible. Anyone who remembers would know. Maybe… maybe the school’s records were wrong.” The more she spoke, the more confident she sounded. “And it’s true—I spent years in a nursing home. All of this can be verified. It’s just confidential patient information.”

Lillian finally exhaled in relief and turned to Nathan. “Nathan, you heard her. I knew you must have misunderstood. That’s why you treated her like this today. If you don’t believe her, check the nursing home records!”

Lillian was certain. She had studied in that country too.

This counterargument sent ripples of doubt through the room. Could it really have been a misunderstanding?

Had Nathan gotten it wrong? Was that why he had been so harsh today?

Is Cassandra really turning this around against all odds? Even if it was a stretch, her sheer audacity was impressive.

Nathan’s brows furrowed slightly. He hadn’t expected Cassandra to be this shameless—still clinging to her lies even now.

The truth was within reach, but exposing Cassandra's lies would require tedious effort. Nathan knew it couldn't be done tonight.

His only option was to force her to produce a medical examination report. Grace Nursing Home in Astoria was notoriously exclusive, catering only to the elite. Nathan had no way to verify what had truly happened there.

Cassandra had stayed there years ago when she was nearly engaged in a secret marriage alliance. She had been assigned to care for an elderly patient of that family, hoping to win their favor. That was why she had remained there so long. But since the engagement was kept under wraps to avoid sabotage, the public only knew one thing—Cassandra had lived in a nursing home.

And who would stay in a nursing home without reason? Naturally, people assumed she had been ill.

Clever. Cassandra was undeniably sharp—just not in the ways that mattered. Her schemes were nearly flawless, leaving no room for error. But Evelyn was the glitch in her plans, the one who had unraveled everything tonight.

This is as far as we can go...

A flicker of disappointment passed through Evelyn. It was like watching a poorly written drama unfold.

The guests murmured in confusion, uncertain what to believe.

Seeing Nathan’s silence, Cassandra finally exhaled in relief. Had he somehow gotten her medical records? Was that why he had doubted her tonight? Maybe he still cared after all.

Hope flared in her chest, and she gazed at him with wounded eyes. "No matter what, I broke up with you because I loved you. I’m not the kind of woman who uses love as a weapon, who traps someone regardless of their feelings..."

A ripple of tension passed through the crowd.

Oh, so now you’re taking a jab at me? Evelyn’s lips curled. Feeling bold because you think you’ve won? Believe me, I can have you dragged to a hospital for a full examination in seconds.

But before Cassandra could fully play the victim and salvage her image, Nathan’s icy stare silenced her.

He pulled out his phone and dialed.

His assistant answered immediately.

"Contact Grace Nursing Home in Astoria," Nathan ordered, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade.