Chapter 15
The setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and crimson as the sleek black Bentley glided toward Crestwood Manor.
Zachary Blackwood sat in the backseat, his jaw clenched, his fingers drumming restlessly against his knee.
“I’ve handled the social media accounts spreading rumors about Mrs. Evelyn, Mr. Blackwood,” Nathaniel Graves reported, his voice tight with frustration. “Their accounts have been terminated, and legal notices have been issued. But the news about your divorce… It’s still trending. The situation is… complicated.”
Zachary exhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the passing scenery. He had replayed their last conversation in his mind a hundred times, each iteration more painful than the last. He wanted to call her, to explain—but pride was a stubborn beast.
Just as the car neared the manor gates, Zachary suddenly commanded, “Stop here.”
The driver obeyed, pulling over to the curb. Without a word, Zachary stepped out, ignoring Nathaniel’s questioning look. His feet carried him across the street to a quaint boutique with a vintage sign that read Timeless.
The same name was etched on the box containing the suit Evelyn had made for him.
The bell above the door chimed softly as he entered. An elderly tailor emerged from the back, adjusting his spectacles. “Good evening, sir. Are you here for a fitting?”
Zachary hesitated before asking, “Did a woman in her twenties commission a men’s suit here about a month ago?”
The tailor’s face brightened. “Ah! Yes, the young lady! She was quite remarkable—skilled beyond her years. I’ve been in this business for decades, and I’ve rarely seen such dedication.”
“Did she… come often?” Zachary’s voice was barely above a whisper.
“Every single day,” the tailor confirmed. “From morning until closing. Sometimes, she’d fall asleep at the worktable, exhausted. I asked her once if the suit was for her father or lover, and she blushed when she said it was for her beloved.”
The word struck Zachary like a physical blow.
“Her eyes lit up whenever she spoke of him,” the tailor continued wistfully. “Such devotion is rare these days. Who are you, if I may ask?”
Zachary swallowed hard. “I’m the man she made it for.”
The tailor’s eyes widened. “Ah! Then you are a fortunate man indeed.”
Zachary left the shop feeling hollow, the weight of the revelation pressing down on him. If Evelyn had loved him so deeply, why had she walked away so easily?
Back in the car, Nathaniel frowned. “Since when do you visit tailors, sir? You only wear designer.”
“Drive,” Zachary muttered.
His phone buzzed—another call from Lucian Ashford, his oldest friend and perpetual nuisance.
“Zachary! You have to come out tonight. The grand opening of Empire—my new club. You can’t miss it!” Lucian’s voice was laced with amusement.
“What’s there to celebrate?” Zachary deadpanned.
“That depends. Are we toasting your marriage or your divorce?”
“Go to hell.”
Lucian laughed. “Relax, it’s a joke! Come by. It’s been ages. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten your friends now that you’re a married man—oh wait.”
Zachary pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine. Tonight.”
Meanwhile, at Crestwood Manor, Evelyn stood in the kitchen, expertly plating an elaborate dinner for her brother, Sebastian.
“Lyse, you know you shouldn’t be cooking. The smoke triggers your allergies,” Sebastian chided, though his eyes softened at the spread before him.
“It’s nothing. I’m used to it,” she murmured, then caught herself.
Sebastian’s expression darkened. “Wait—you cooked for him every day for three years, didn’t you?” His hands clenched into fists. “I swear, if I see that bastard—”
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” Evelyn cut in, forcing a brittle smile. “I won’t do it again.”
Sebastian pulled her into a fierce hug. “From now on, we take care of you.”
At 9 PM, Empire was pulsing with energy, the elite of Faircrest gathered to see and be seen.
A roaring Bugatti pulled up, drawing envious stares. Sebastian stepped out first, his usual prosecutor’s sharpness softened by his casual attire. Then came Evelyn—silver dress clinging to her curves, diamonds glinting at her ears, her waves cascading down her back like liquid gold.
Sebastian groaned. “Jesus, Lyse. You’re trying to give me a heart attack.”
She smirked. “What? Not pretty enough?”
“You’re too pretty. Every man here is staring.”
“Let them stare,” she purred. “But if they touch, they lose fingers.”
Inside, the music thrummed through the crowd. Sebastian commandeered a VIP table, determined to shield her from unwanted attention.
Evelyn swirled her wine, pouting. “I regret coming with you. All these gorgeous men, and you’re scaring them off.”
Sebastian rolled his eyes. “You just got divorced. You’re not here to rebound with some idiot.”
Upstairs, in the private lounge, Zachary and Lucian observed the scene below.
Lucian whistled. “Now that is a woman.”
Zachary followed his gaze—and froze.
Evelyn.
Dressed like sin, moving like a dream.
His blood turned to fire.
