Chapter 214

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse, casting golden streaks across her polished mahogany desk. With a steaming cup of Earl Grey in hand, she scrolled through her phone, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk as she devoured the latest celebrity scandal.

"Seraphina Delacroix caught in a love triangle with Sebastian Hart and Adrian Cross?" Evelyn murmured, her fingers tapping rhythmically against the porcelain cup. "Now that's entertainment before breakfast."

Her assistant, Lillian Graves, breezed in with a tablet balanced precariously on a stack of contracts. "You've seen the headlines, I presume?"

"Seen them? I'm already drafting the sequel in my head," Evelyn quipped, swiveling her chair toward the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Manhattan. "Sebastian's manager Isabelle must be having kittens right now. Three years of carefully crafted 'bad boy redeemed' PR down the drain because he couldn't resist texting his ex at 2 AM."

Lillian arched an eyebrow. "The Daily Mail claims Adrian stormed out of Seraphina's birthday party when Sebastian showed up uninvited."

"With orchids," Evelyn added gleefully. "Her favorite. The man's either a genius at emotional warfare or—" Her phone buzzed with an alert. "Oh! And now Harrison Montgomery's wife Natalie has unfollowed Vanessa Sterling on Instagram. The plot thickens!"

Downstairs in the lobby, Nathan Blackwood stepped out of the elevator, his Italian leather shoes clicking against the marble floors. His assistant Marcus Donovan kept pace, rattling off his schedule. "...and your sister Sophia called six times about the charity gala seating chart."

Nathan barely registered the words, his attention snagged by the sight of Evelyn through the glass-walled conference room. She was gesturing animatedly to Lillian, no doubt dissecting some new gossip with the precision of a surgeon. The way her emerald eyes sparkled with mischief made his meeting about quarterly earnings suddenly feel unbearably dull.

Upstairs, Evelyn gasped dramatically. "Wait—scroll back! Is that who I think it is in the background of Seraphina's party photos?" She zoomed in on a blurred figure near the champagne fountain. "That's definitely Preston Whitmore's signature fedora. What's a director doing at an actress's—"

The door swung open.

"Plotting someone's demise or just their social ruin?" Nathan leaned against the doorframe, his tailored suit doing nothing to hide the amusement in his stance.

Evelyn didn't miss a beat. "Why choose when you can multitask?" She spun her phone toward him. "Tell me you wouldn't pay good money to see Sebastian's face when Adrian—"

"Actually," Nathan interrupted, sliding a manila folder onto her desk, "I came to discuss your script revisions. But by all means, prioritize the downfall of C-list celebrities."

Lillian discreetly exited as Evelyn flipped open the folder. "Please. Seraphina's at least a solid B-lister after that perfume commercial." She skimmed Nathan's notes, her playful demeanor shifting into professional focus. "You cut the entire museum heist sequence?"

"It's derivative." Nathan rounded the desk, close enough that Evelyn caught hints of his sandalwood cologne. "But this subplot about the art forger's daughter blackmailing the protagonist? Now that has potential."

Evelyn tapped her pen against her chin, mentally rearranging scenes. Outside, the city hummed with possibilities—both for her screenplay and the real-life drama unfolding across tabloids. Some stories wrote themselves; others needed a more... creative touch.

And Evelyn Sinclair excelled at both.

"What just happened? Did I hear that right? Mr. Mason has been living off her?"

"Shouldn’t it be the other way around?"

"Are they really together?"

The murmurs spread like wildfire as Mason remained silent, his jaw clenched. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to slice with a knife.

All bark and no bite, huh?

Nathan watched the scene unfold, his fingers tightening around his glass. This was the first time Violet had ever treated Mason with such icy detachment, and it clearly rattled him.

Violet’s frosty gaze locked onto Mason, who flinched under its weight. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, as if the words had abandoned him.

Then, Luna—Audrey’s scheming cousin—saw her chance.

With a sickly sweet smile, she sidled up to Violet, invading her personal space. Too close.

"Ms. Carter, are you Mason’s girlfriend? Why didn’t you tell us sooner?"

Her voice dripped with false concern, her eyes gleaming with something far more sinister.

Violet took a deliberate step back, her instincts screaming. What is she planning?

"There’s nothing to tell."

But Luna wasn’t done. She pouted, leaning in again—too close, too fast—and Violet’s pulse spiked.

Because behind her, barely an inch away, stood an eight-tier tower of crystal wine glasses.

One wrong move, and—

"Watch out!"

Evelyn’s warning came too late. From her seat, she could only watch in horror as Luna’s shoulder accidentally brushed against Violet’s.

Nathan lunged forward, but he was too far.

Violet, in her heels, teetered on the edge of the steps—

Then the world tilted.

A blur of movement.

The deafening crash of shattering glass.

And a woman’s scream—piercing, raw—ripped through the room.

Chaos erupted.

But whose scream was it?

Violet’s?

Or Luna’s?

"Luna!" Claire gasped, her voice laced with shock. Her furious gaze then snapped to Violet, who stood unharmed.

Violet was just as stunned. She turned to see who had yanked her to safety at the last second.

Damn, I thought some white knight had come to my rescue, but it's just you, Julian! Where the hell did you even come from?

Julian smirked. How is this not heroic?

It had all started with Evelyn’s desperate plea. The three siblings had been mere spectators to the unfolding drama, but when they saw Violet about to take a nasty fall, they’d acted on instinct—pulling her back just in time.

Ironically, Luna, now without her support, ended up being the one to crash spectacularly.

"Everyone, step back!" Ethan barked, rushing over to assess the damage. Amid the shattered glass and spilled champagne, Luna lay in a pitiful heap, sobbing uncontrollably. Thankfully, her fall had sent her clear of the worst of the broken shards, though the tower of glasses hadn’t been so lucky. Had she landed directly on them, she’d have been seriously injured. As it was, she was merely drenched and humiliated.

And that was more than enough.

"Claire, take Luna to clean up," Ethan ordered sharply.

With no other choice, Claire reluctantly helped her reckless cousin to her feet.

"What were you thinking? Have you lost your mind?" Claire hissed under her breath.

"I—I heard you say you wanted to embarrass her at this banquet. That way, the Carters would have to cut ties with them, right?"

"Tsk, you didn’t need to interfere."

Realization dawned on Luna—Claire had already planned something.

With them gone, the crowd began to disperse.

Just as Violet thanking Julian, Mason had already closed the distance between them. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, pulling her firmly away from Julian.

He’d just learned that Violet had been working closely with Julian for the past two months. Seeing him play the hero now was beyond irritating.

When he tugged her, Violet tried to wrench free.

After handling the mess, Ethan noticed his younger brother acting up again. He strode over and demanded, "Mason, what are you doing with Ms. Carter?"

Annoyed, Mason shot Violet a glare before turning to his brother. "She’s my girlfriend. Is it a crime to want her to meet my friends at my table?"

Even Ethan was taken aback. "Girlfriend?"

"Yes." Mason’s tone was firm, as if expecting Violet to greet Ethan properly.

But Violet remained stubbornly uncooperative.