Chapter 117

It seemed Isabella Sinclair was ready to move into Windsor Estates as Mrs. Kingsley and settle down with Alexander.

Of course she wouldn't want his ex-wife's belongings cluttering up their new love nest.

"If Mr. Kingsley finds them in the way, just throw them out. No need to call me for permission," Evelyn's voice was glacial.

"What about the gifts you gave me? Should I toss those too?"

Evelyn's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "Those weren't from me. They were from the old Evelyn. She might have cherished them, but to the current me? Just worthless trash."

Alexander's breath hitched.

"Next time, contact my assistant. I don't take calls from strangers. Goodbye."

"Evelyn."

"What now?" Her patience snapped, voice rising sharply.

"Your clothes. You guarded them like treasures, terrified of even a speck of dust. Don't want them anymore?"

His voice dropped dangerously. "If you don't come collect them personally, I'll consider them abandoned property. And dispose of them accordingly."

Evelyn's chest tightened.

Those exquisite garments—each one was Sophia's private collection. Every stitch bore Sophia's meticulous craftsmanship.

When she'd asked to borrow them to cheer up her grandfather, Sophia had generously let her pick any piece, even insisting she keep them. She couldn't let this man destroy such kindness. Drawing a steadying breath, she said, "I'll send Daniel tomorrow."

"You come yourself."

His tone brooked no argument, smug with newfound leverage. "If your assistant shows up, he won't get past the gates. I'll be expecting you tomorrow. It's settled."

The line went dead.

"Damn him!" Evelyn glared at the darkened screen, fury boiling in her veins.

Just because he had a few of her dresses, he thought he held some power over her!

Fine. She'd go. Consider it slaying dragons.

The next morning found Evelyn and Olivia dressed to perfection, strolling arm-in-arm to breakfast.

Sebastian had left early for an important board meeting. Only Reginald, his three wives, and Nathaniel graced the dining table.

"Sleeping beauties finally grace us with their presence," Nathaniel teased, chin propped on one hand. "We've been waiting ages."

"We stayed up talking half the night," Evelyn yawned, eyes bloodshot.

Olivia, meanwhile, looked fresh as a daisy. College students and their inhuman energy—Evelyn could never.

Reginald sat at the head of the table, dark circles under his eyes. That chair had truly robbed New York's wealthiest man of sleep.

Evelyn, ever resilient, showed no outward effect from last night's drama. Once gifts were given, a lady never took them back.

As breakfast concluded, Evelyn made to leave when Reginald spoke.

"Do you still have feelings for him?"

The table stilled. "No," Evelyn answered calmly.

"Then you're completely over the divorce?"

"Reginald, we've known each other twenty-four years. Spit it out."

"Very well. Lawrence!"

At his summons, the family's chief secretary hurried over with a dossier, which Reginald slid down the table with perfect accuracy.

"What's this?"

"A list."

"Of?"

"Potential suitors." Reginald said it like discussing the weather.

Olivia's fork clattered to the floor. Nathaniel choked on his coffee, coughing violently.

"Reginald!" Evelyn shot to her feet. "Is this payback?"

"Would I retaliate against my own daughter?" His expression remained impassive. "You're divorced. The society pages already whisper. If Alexander can parade his new flame, why shouldn't I arrange worthy matches for you? Whatever he has, you'll have better."

"So if he catches syphilis, I should too?" Evelyn snapped.

"My decision stands. Lawrence compiled this from every eligible bachelor in the country. Starting next month, five meetings per week. Weekends off." His tone left no room for argument.

Evelyn's hands trembled with the urge to flip the table. "I won't go!"

"No dates? Then you don't want the CEO position either?"

"You promised that title if I managed the company well!" She ground her teeth. "Since when do Sinclairs break their word?"

"If my honor buys your lifelong happiness, it's a small price." Reginald's gaze sharpened. "Need I remind you who makes final decisions here?"

Breakfast ended in frosty silence.

Evelyn felt like she'd swallowed kindling, the embers crackling in her lungs.

As a child, she'd hidden in the faux mountain grotto to scribble on rocks or cry. At twenty-four, some habits died hard—she found herself there again, kicking pebbles.

"Knew I'd find you here." Nathaniel ducked into the cave, hands clasped behind his back. "Think Father's punishing you for the chair?"

"Partly. Mostly he's trying to 'reset' me after Alexander's betrayal." Nathaniel folded his long limbs beside her. "By shoving men at me? I'm his daughter, not his clone. Must my worth hinge on some man?"

She skipped a stone across the pond. "If he's so keen, let him find wife number five!"

"You know how he is—vindictive and stubborn." Nathaniel lowered his voice. "No dates, no CEO title. He'll do it."

Evelyn chewed her lip. "What do I do?"

"Give me the list."

"You'll eliminate them?" Her eyes lit up.

"I'll vet them. Pick a decent one to date." His grin widened.

"Are you insane?" She drew back her fist—then her phone rang.

Alexander's name glared from the screen.

Still seething, she answered, ready to unleash. "Calling at dawn? No shame?"

"Are you leaving yet?" He ignored her venom.

"No!"

"Then get moving." A pause. "I'm at your gates."