Chapter 233

The auction ended in a whirlwind of chaos and revelations.

It wasn’t just the staggering charity sum raised by Vogue Paris that night. The journalists were having a field day, uncovering scandal after scandal.

Nathaniel Prescott wasted no time. He sent his secretary and lawyer to the scene immediately. They escorted Victoria Sterling and the trembling Amelia Prescott through the crowd, shielding them from the prying eyes and whispered accusations.

Their exit could only be described as a hasty retreat.

"Miss Isabella, if you can’t provide concrete evidence for your public accusation that Miss Amelia bribed you to steal The Regal Palace’s confidential information, we will sue you for defamation. And we won’t back down." The lawyer’s voice was sharp, a clear warning before he turned away.

Isabella Sinclair felt a chill run down her spine. Facing a lawsuit from the powerful Prescott Group was terrifying enough. But what truly unsettled her was Alexander Kingsley’s presence—cold, unreadable, and utterly ruthless.

He stood there, arms crossed, his piercing gaze fixed on her.

She swallowed hard but forced herself to speak. "I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t have proof. Don’t think your wealth and power intimidate me!" She lifted her chin. "I’ve changed. I won’t be manipulated into doing something unethical ever again."

"Mr. Kingsley, how should we proceed?" The lawyer hesitated, glancing at Alexander.

His expression remained icy. "Tell Mr. Prescott his opponent isn’t Miss Isabella. It’s The Regal Palace."

A pause.

"And me."

The lawyer stiffened.

Isabella Sinclair was the Ashbourne heiress. If this escalated, they’d be provoking the entire Ashbourne Group—Chairman Emeric, CEO Cassius, and the influential Bright family.

This wasn’t just a scandal. It was a hornet’s nest.

"Apologize when you’re wrong. Take responsibility when you must. Covering for lies only makes you a fool." Alexander’s lips curled in disdain before he turned, scanning the room for Evadne.

But she was already gone.

Again, his warmth was met with cold emptiness.

Iris had another engagement. Evadne walked her to the underground parking lot.

"Miss Evadne, you were magnificent tonight."

Iris pulled her into a warm embrace. "I knew Cassius’ sister wouldn’t disappoint."

Evadne smiled faintly. "You only say that because I’m his sister."

"No." Iris shook her head. "From the moment we met, I admired your grace, your intellect, your strength. I think we could be wonderful friends."

Evadne’s eyes twinkled. "Why stop at friends? How about family?"

Iris flushed. "Darling, I’ll be fifty next year. As much as I adore Cassius, I can’t hold him back."

"What’s wrong with fifty?" Evadne laughed. "My father and his wife, Myra, have a twenty-five-year age gap. They’re happier than ever." She gave Iris a firm pat on the shoulder. "Life’s too short for regrets. If you love him, fight for him. Even if it doesn’t work out, at least you tried."

Iris hesitated. "Evadne… have you ever made choices you regretted?"

The question struck like a blade.

A shadow flickered in Evadne’s eyes, but she kept her smile steady. "Yes. I’ve made mistakes. But I don’t regret them."

She regretted marrying Alexander.

Yet she didn’t regret loving him.

A contradiction, but the truth.

After Iris left, reporters swarmed Evadne. Without her bodyguard Jason, she felt cornered despite their lack of malice.

"Miss Evadne! Will you sue Amelia for copying your designs?"

"Amelia conspired to leak The Regal Palace’s secrets, sabotaging your deal with Ada. Will K Group take legal action?"

"Ada has cut ties with the Prescott Group. Will you reconcile?"

Exhaustion weighed on her. The pain in her stomach flared, sweat beading on her forehead. But she stood tall, her gaze unwavering.

Before she could respond, a familiar voice cut through the chaos.

"All questions will be addressed in K Group’s official statement."

A strong arm wrapped around her waist.

"Miss Evadne isn’t well. Move aside."

She looked up, stunned.

Avery Lockwood’s worried face filled her vision.

He hadn’t been by her side all evening. How did he know she was in pain?

Memories flooded back—three years of neglect, of begging for scraps of affection. Even when she miscarried, when she lay weak and asked for water, Alexander had refused.

Love died in the details. Hers had bled out long ago.

Did she regret it? Yes.

But she had chosen this path.

A drop of sweat trailed down her temple. Avery’s grip tightened.

"Are you okay?" His voice was low, urgent.

"No." Her breath hitched. The pain sharpened with every word.