Chapter 253

The morning sun filtered through the sheer curtains of Evelyn Sinclair's penthouse, casting golden streaks across her marble countertop. As she sipped her lavender-infused latte, her phone buzzed with an incoming message from Lillian Graves, her ever-efficient assistant.

"You won't believe what just happened," Lillian’s text read, followed by three fire emojis.

Evelyn’s perfectly manicured fingers tapped the screen. "Spill. Now."

A second later, her screen flooded with images—Seraphina Delacroix, the notorious second-tier actress, caught in a heated argument with Sebastian Hart outside a high-end restaurant. The paparazzi had captured every dramatic gesture, every flash of anger in Seraphina’s eyes.

Evelyn smirked. "Again? Didn’t they break up months ago?"

Lillian’s reply was instant. "Rumor has it she found out he’s been cozying up to Isabelle Laurent, his new manager. And guess who was spotted having lunch with Adrian Cross yesterday?"

Evelyn’s eyebrows shot up. Adrian Cross—Seraphina’s current boyfriend—was one of the hottest actors in the industry. If this got out, the tabloids would have a field day.

Before she could respond, another message popped up—this time from Preston Whitmore, the director she’d been working with on her latest film.

"Emergency meeting at noon. Don’t be late."

Evelyn groaned. Preston’s "emergency meetings" usually meant one thing: drama. And she had a sinking feeling it involved the on-set tension between Donovan Sharpe, their temperamental producer, and Genevieve Blackwood, Nathan’s sharp-tongued sister, who had recently joined as an executive consultant.

Setting her phone down, Evelyn exhaled sharply. The entertainment world was a snake pit, and today, the snakes were particularly restless.

Just as she reached for her bag, her phone buzzed once more—a notification from a gossip blog. The headline made her choke on her latte.

"Nathan Blackwood Spotted Leaving Hotel with Mystery Woman—Is Evelyn Sinclair Out of the Picture?"

Her grip tightened around her phone.

Oh, this was going to be a very interesting day.

As Vivian rose to depart, Evelyn stood frozen in shock. Though Gwendolyn had indeed caught Vivian's attention, it was peculiar for her to show such concern for someone she'd barely met.

Nathan observed Vivian's retreating figure before murmuring, "Perhaps Vivian suspects Gwendolyn is her half-sister—sharing the same mother."

The moment the words left his lips, Evelyn's face paled. She hadn't breathed a word of this secret to him. How could he possibly know?

Reading her expression, Nathan smirked and leaned in conspiratorially, beckoning her closer. Evelyn's eyes gleamed with intrigue. After all, Nathan was a man of influence—unearthing hidden truths was second nature to him.

Relieved she wasn't the sole keeper of this bombshell, Evelyn eagerly whispered, "What else do you know?"

Just as they were about to exchange secrets, Vivian, Marcus, and Beatrice arrived nearby, their lively chatter repeatedly interrupting the hushed conversation. Frustrated, Evelyn dragged Nathan toward the secluded edge of the pool, where the splashing water masked their whispers.

"Rumors say Vivian's current mother isn't her birth mother," Nathan revealed. "Her real mother allegedly ran off with another man. Given Gwendolyn's age, the timeline fits. I think Vivian's starting to suspect—hence her sudden interest."

Evelyn's face lit up. "If they are sisters, how do you think Vivian would treat her?"

Nathan pondered. "From what I've seen, Vivian fiercely protects those she cares about. And Gwendolyn lost her parents young. The root of Vivian's resentment is gone—she isn't the type to redirect hatred blindly. At the very least, she values loyalty."

But his confidence was thin. He barely knew most people here well enough to be certain.

Anxious, Evelyn discreetly checked on Gwendolyn through her system—and nearly cursed aloud. What the hell is Grayson doing? Is he harassing her again?

The pool water rippled as a beach ball floated past. Nathan batted it away, catching Evelyn's silent fury. What mess has my friend stirred up now?

After swallowing her medication and slipping into her crisp new uniform, Gwendolyn was ready to return to her duties when she found herself trapped in a dimly lit corridor.

The moment she spotted Grayson, irritation flared within her. She had intended to breeze past him without acknowledgment.

But as she brushed by, his hand shot out, slamming her against the cold wall, his grip unyielding. "Gwendolyn," he growled, his voice laced with venom, "since when did you grow so bold? Ignoring me now?"

She struggled futilely against his hold, frustration bubbling over. "Mr. Hart, the contract clearly states that once our agreement ended, you were to leave me alone. Or have you forgotten your own rules?"

That clause had been Grayson’s own doing—meant to control her. Yet now, it was he who couldn’t seem to abide by it.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he tilted her chin up, his thumb pressing into her skin. "You’ve been testing my patience lately. How much longer do you think I’ll tolerate this defiance?"

Gwendolyn’s lips twisted. How could someone as kind as Vivian ever have been involved with a man like him?

Her silence seemed to placate him momentarily. He exhaled, studying her lowered lashes and the defeated slump of her shoulders. This was the Gwendolyn he remembered—docile, compliant, always bending to his will.

In truth, he missed it. Missed how she used to orbit around him, eager to please.

His gaze lingered, throat bobbing. It had been too long since they’d last spoken. Surely, she must have missed him too. How many nights had she spent crying over him?

If not for Vivian… The thought struck him like a physical blow. Why did it have to be her? Even now, seeing Vivian again had stirred old emotions, but she was just as infuriating as ever. Why torment himself when he could have someone who adored him unconditionally? Someone like Gwendolyn.

Perhaps… he’d made the wrong choice.

"Gwendolyn," he murmured, voice uncharacteristically soft, "I know what you’re thinking. But I—I’m conflicted. Just give me some time."

She blinked, startled by the plea. A bitter laugh threatened to escape. "Mr. Hart, you don’t need time. There’s nothing between us. I swear on my life, I’ve never harbored feelings for you. Now, move. I have work to do."

If only he could believe that. But self-deception had always been his specialty.

"Gwendolyn," he breathed, eyes darkening, "I don’t think I’ve ever kissed you, have I?"

Her blood ran cold. Before she could react, he leaned in—only for a sharp voice to slice through the tension.

"Well, well. Forcing yourself on her now? Grayson, you never fail to disappoint."

Vivian’s voice.

Grayson recoiled as if burned, guilt flashing across his face before he could mask it.

Gwendolyn sagged against the wall, heart pounding.

The confrontation was far from over.

Gwendolyn stumbled backward as Grayson shoved her aside, nearly losing her balance. Anger flared within her, and before she could stop herself, she flipped him off with both hands, her glare sharp enough to cut glass.

Of course, Grayson was too preoccupied with Vivian to notice. His entire focus was locked onto his ex-girlfriend, his expression a mix of tension and something dangerously close to desperation. But Vivian—oh, Vivian saw it all.

A laugh escaped her, rich and unexpected, leaving Gwendolyn frozen in mortification. Heat rushed to her cheeks. Did she still have feelings for him? The question gnawed at her, unanswered.

Grayson, emboldened by Vivian’s presence, squared his shoulders. "What are you even doing here?" His voice dripped with false confidence. "My life isn’t your concern anymore. You lost that right when you walked away."

Meanwhile, Evelyn—observing through the system—rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Even now, he’s still trying to use Gwendolyn to get under Vivian’s skin. Just moments ago, he’d been wallowing in self-pity. What a manipulative bastard.

Nathan, listening to Evelyn’s thoughts, wasn’t surprised. Grayson had been scheming this for years. No matter who else caught his attention, Vivian had always been his endgame.

If both Vivian and Gwendolyn actually fall for him, it’ll just be another tired love triangle where he’s the tortured hero. Evelyn’s frown deepened. Except right now, he’s the only one still playing his role—and he’s improvising extra drama for himself.

Vivian, however, had no patience left for Grayson’s theatrics. She waved him off dismissively. "Sure, whatever. Can you leave? I need to talk to Gwendolyn."

The air between them crackled—un business, unspoken words. But for now, Grayson had been dismissed. And Gwendolyn? She stood there, caught between two storms, unsure which one would swallow her whole.