Chapter 246

Eavesdropping on Scandalous Thoughts

The morning sun streamed through the curtains, casting a golden glow over Evelyn Sinclair’s bedroom. She stretched lazily, her mind still lingering on the remnants of last night’s dream—something about Nathan Blackwood and a scandalous secret.

Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant: "Don’t forget, the script reading is at 10 AM. And… you might want to check the tabloids. Drama alert."

Evelyn groaned. Drama was the last thing she needed today.

Scrolling through her feed, her eyes widened at the headline: "Vincent Holloway Spotted Leaving Seraphina Delacroix’s Penthouse at 3 AM!"

She nearly choked on her coffee. Vincent Holloway—the notorious playboy—and Seraphina Delacroix, the rising starlet? That was unexpected.

But what truly caught her attention was the mental whisper she accidentally picked up—Seraphina’s frantic thoughts, loud and clear in her mind: "Oh God, what if Maverick finds out? He’ll kill me!"

Evelyn smirked. Maverick Sutton—no, Sebastian Hart—was Seraphina’s ex and still held a grudge. This was juicy.

Then, another voice cut in—Nathan’s. "Why the hell is Evelyn smirking like that? Did she see the tabloids too?"

Her breath hitched. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on him.

Before she could process it, another thought followed—Victoria Hayes, Nathan’s scheming secretary: "If Evelyn’s distracted by gossip, maybe today’s the perfect time to push the merger papers through without her noticing."

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her phone. Oh, hell no.

She quickly typed a reply to Lillian: "Change of plans. I’m coming in early. And tell Preston Whitmore I need five minutes with Nathan—alone."

Because if Victoria thought she could pull a fast one, Evelyn was about to ruin her entire week.

And maybe, just maybe, she’d drop a hint to Sebastian about Seraphina’s little secret.

After all, what was a morning without a little chaos?

Wow, bluntness—now that’s a bold move. They were treating Gwendolyn like some conniving, two-faced witch, cornering her into declaring her stance with no escape route left!

And that was exactly what Lila had intended.

She was utterly convinced Gwendolyn had feelings for Grayson. After all, this meek little thing had lingered by Grayson’s side for so long, content to play the role of a rebound. There was no way she hadn’t fallen for him.

Yet, Lila’s question was a double-edged sword. If Gwendolyn denied any interest in Grayson to save face, it would only widen the rift between them. But if she admitted she wanted him back, it would expose every past action as nothing but a calculated performance—proof of her deceit. She’d alienate everyone in one fell swoop, and Grayson would despise a woman like that.

So, what seemed like a ridiculous, even absurd question was actually the perfect trap for scheming women.

But the catch? Gwendolyn had to actually want Grayson back.

Isabelle internally groaned.

The moment Lila posed her question, the room buzzed with anticipation.

Gwendolyn had been the rebound who lasted the longest by Grayson’s side. Everyone suspected Grayson still cared for her, too.

At first, Grayson was irritated by Lila’s audacity. He’d planned to coax Gwendolyn into admitting her feelings on her own terms, not be forced into a public confession.

What if she was still bitter and declared she didn’t want him? That would only complicate things further.

But then… a thought struck him.

What if, in the end, Gwendolyn couldn’t resist her love for him? What if she cast aside all pride and risked humiliation just to say she wanted him back? The idea sent a thrill through him, stroking his ego.

Grayson’s lips curled into a smirk. He couldn’t resist adding, "Lila, what nonsense are you spouting? It’s not so easy to return to my side once you’ve left." His gaze flicked to Gwendolyn, challenging.

Meanwhile, Lila took his words as proof—Grayson didn’t really care about his rebound.

Gwendolyn, however, was seething.

What kind of nonsense was this? How had she even ended up in this mess? If she’d known her delusional ex-boss was coming, she would’ve stayed miles away.

Unbelievable.

Grayson had always been like this—convinced she was in love with him no matter how many times she denied it. It was like he couldn’t comprehend basic human language, too wrapped up in his own fantasy world.

Making money was one thing. But dealing with his inflated ego? Exhausting.

Gwendolyn couldn't care less whether Grayson believed her or not. After this absurd encounter, he probably thought she was the one who couldn’t move on. The injustice burned inside her. Were all wealthy men this delusional? Though, her idol and her husband were exceptions—they were wonderful.

A storm of silent curses raged in Gwendolyn’s mind before she finally answered with icy precision, "I don’t want to!"

The room froze.

Many had expected a refusal, but no one anticipated the sheer force behind her words—like a solemn oath, unshakable and resolute.

Why hadn’t she hesitated? Why hadn’t she stammered or looked conflicted before delivering that final blow?

Even Grayson, pride wounded, stiffened at her unwavering tone.

Only Isabelle—no, Amelia—couldn’t suppress her laughter any longer.

Grayson’s face flushed crimson. Realizing the scene he was making, he shot to his feet, voice sharp. "Gwendolyn, even anger has its limits."

She nearly rolled her eyes out of her skull. "Mr. Hart, I swear, I have zero interest in chasing after you. You and your lovely companion can rest easy!"

If not for the damn confidentiality clause, she would’ve shoved the contract in their faces. They were even. So where the hell did they get the idea she’d come crawling back?

Despite her blatant disgust, Grayson remained oblivious. He reached for her wrist, fingers tightening like a vice.

"Enough. We’re leaving." His tone brooked no argument—the classic domineering CEO move.

Her words had cut deeper than he’d admit. He cared, damn it. If pride was what she clung to, fine. He’d let her save face—in private.

But when he tried to drag her away, she didn’t budge.

Gwendolyn planted her feet, lowering her center of gravity like a wrestler bracing for a fight. Her expression screamed over my dead body.

The scene turned absurd—Grayson, the polished billionaire, now looked like a desperate kidnapper failing to haul away his hostage.

People gaped.

Gwendolyn, no stranger to physical labor, was stronger than she looked. Grayson’s "charming" display of dominance crumbled into an embarrassing stalemate.

Meanwhile, Lila—Grayson’s discarded date—nearly toppled off her chair in shock. Humiliation burned her cheeks as she watched the man she’d been clinging to moments ago now fixated on another woman.

Lila Carter shot up from her seat, her face flushed with fury as she stormed forward. "Mr. Hart, I'm your date tonight!"

"Move!" Grayson Hart snapped, already irritated from the struggle. Sweat beaded at his temples as his patience thinned.

His sharp command only stoked Lila's rage. She lunged forward, trying to pry Grayson and Gwendolyn apart.

The bizarre tug-of-war between the three of them became a spectacle no one could look away from—so riveting that even the arrival of an important guest went unnoticed.

Lila whirled on Gwendolyn, venom dripping from her words. "I see your game, you scheming little witch. You think playing hard to get will make Grayson fall for you? Newsflash—you're just a rebound. Do you honestly believe a man like him would ever want you? Stop deluding yourself!"

Though everyone knew the truth, hearing it laid bare made Grayson falter for a split second.

That momentary lapse was all Lila needed. With a forceful yank, she tore them apart and shoved Gwendolyn backward.

They were dangerously close to the pool.

Gwendolyn staggered, her arms flailing as she lost her balance.

"Watch out!" Isabelle Laurent cried, but it was too late.

Daniel Wright, the quickest among them, sprang into action, but he wasn't fast enough.

Just as Gwendolyn was about to hit the water, a figure darted into view—tan skin, curves accentuated by a daring swimsuit, crimson lips, and wavy hair that swayed with every movement.

Strong arms wrapped around Gwendolyn's waist, halting her fall. The momentum nearly sent her crashing into her savior's chest, leaving her stunned.

"You okay there, gorgeous?" A rich, amused voice rang out.

It was like something straight out of a cheesy romance novel—the dashing hero saving the damsel. The crowd froze, jaws slack. After all, it wasn't every day you saw her make an entrance.