Chapter 21
The morning sun filtered through the silk curtains of Evelyn Sinclair’s penthouse, casting golden patterns across her designer sheets. She stretched languidly, her fingers brushing against the cold emptiness of the other side of the bed. Three years. Three years since she’d signed those divorce papers from Sebastian Blackwood, and still her body betrayed her with these morning rituals of reaching for someone who’d never loved her.
Her phone buzzed violently on the nightstand. Tristan Gallagher’s name flashed across the screen. “Ms. Sinclair, we have a situation at Whitmore Holdings. Your presence is required immediately.”
Evelyn’s perfectly manicured nails tapped against her marble countertop as she downed her espresso. The bitter taste mirrored her mood. She knew exactly what—or rather who—had caused this “situation.” Sebastian Blackwood never made moves without purpose, and his sudden interest in the Silverpine Valley project reeked of personal vendetta.
The elevator doors slid open to reveal chaos in the Whitmore Holdings executive suite. Her secretary, Tristan, stood waiting with two security guards flanking him. “He’s in Conference Room A with Mr. Whitmore,” Tristan murmured. “Brought his entire legal team.”
Evelyn smoothed her Stella McCartney power suit. “Let’s see what the great Sebastian Blackwood wants this time.”
The conference room fell silent when she entered. Sebastian sat at the head of the table, his charcoal Tom Ford suit accentuating his broad shoulders. Those piercing gray eyes—the ones that haunted her dreams—locked onto her with unsettling intensity. Vanessa Delacroix perched beside him like a possessive peacock, her designer-clad arm draped over Sebastian’s.
“Ah, Evelyn,” her brother Nathan said through gritted teeth. “Mr. Blackwood was just explaining how our Silverpine Valley proposal violates some obscure clause in our grandfather’s original land agreement.”
Sebastian’s lips curled into that infuriating smirk she knew too well. “Not obscure, Nathan. Ironclad.” His deep voice resonated through the room. “The mineral rights were never properly transferred when your family acquired the land in ’78.”
Evelyn’s fingers twitched toward the contract. She could smell Sebastian’s cologne from across the table—that damnable sandalwood and bergamot blend that used to linger on her sheets. “This is ridiculous,” she snapped. “Those rights were negotiated decades ago.”
Vanessa’s tinkling laugh grated on her nerves. “Darling, business isn’t personal. Though I suppose everything feels personal when you’re the discarded ex-wife.”
The room temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. Nathan half-rose from his seat, but Evelyn placed a restraining hand on his arm. She leaned forward, meeting Sebastian’s gaze head-on. “What do you really want, Sebastian? Because we both know this isn’t about mineral rights.”
His eyes darkened, that telltale muscle in his jaw twitching. For a fleeting second, she saw something raw flash across his carefully constructed mask. Then it was gone. “A partnership,” he said smoothly. “Fifty-fifty split on Silverpine Valley. Blackwood Enterprises handles development. Whitmore Holdings provides the land.”
Vanessa’s gasp was audible. “Sebastian! We agreed—”
“Business decisions aren’t made in bedrooms, Vanessa,” Evelyn cut in sweetly, watching with satisfaction as the other woman’s face flushed crimson.
Sebastian’s phone chose that moment to vibrate. He glanced at the screen, and Evelyn didn’t miss how his knuckles whitened around the device. “We’ll continue this tomorrow,” he said abruptly, standing. “My lawyers will send over the revised terms.”
As Sebastian’s entourage filed out, he paused at the door. That familiar scent of his cologne wrapped around Evelyn as he murmured, “You look beautiful when you’re angry, Evelyn. Just like our wedding night.”
Then he was gone, leaving her standing there with her fists clenched and her traitorous heart racing. Because damn him, after all these years, after all the pain, one whispered comment could still make her pulse flutter.
Tristan appeared at her elbow. “Ms. Sinclair? Your eleven o’clock is here. A Mr. Sterling? He says he’s an old friend.”
Evelyn blinked. Gideon Sterling. Her childhood playmate, the boy who’d given her her first kiss behind the stables at Crestwood Manor. What perfect timing.
She straightened her jacket. “Send him in. And Tristan? Make sure the entire building knows Sebastian Blackwood just left my office looking… unsettled.”
Because if there was one thing Evelyn Sinclair had learned in her years as a Whitmore, it was how to play the game. And this time, she intended to win.
“I won’t be fooled by the same trick again!” Evelyn Sinclair thought fiercely, her fingers tightening around her phone.
Just then, messages flooded in from the “Whitmore Family’s Inner Circle” group chat.
Nathan Whitmore: “Eve, remember those scandalous posts about you yesterday? They’re gone now—every single one. Even the accounts were wiped. Sebastian did it.”
Evelyn Sinclair: “How generous of him.”
Julian Whitmore: “Seriously? Does he think deleting a few posts fixes everything? Pathetic.”
Dominic Whitmore: “Too bad Blackwood Enterprises’ stock barely dipped this morning.”
Sebastian Whitmore: “Eve, even if we can’t touch him yet, the Delacroix family is fair game.”
Evelyn Sinclair: “Oh, they’ll pay. I never forget a grudge.”
She dialed Tristan Gallagher. “Tristan, I need you.”
Within moments, her secretary entered the office. “You called, Ms. Sinclair?”
“Did you gather everything I asked for?” She spun her chair lazily, one leg crossed over the other, the sunlight glinting off her crystal bracelet—a gift from her grandfather.
“All prepared. We can submit it to the authorities whenever you’re ready.”
“Not yet.” Evelyn smirked, tapping her nails against the armrest. “Contact our media connections—Faircrest Media, for starters. Drop them a hint, but don’t reveal everything. Let’s see how the public reacts first.”
Tristan frowned. “Involving the press could complicate things. Why not strike the Delacroix Group directly?”
“I don’t just destroy my enemies, Tristan,” she murmured, her voice dripping with icy amusement. “I like to watch them squirm first. Let them bleed slowly.”
Her fingers traced the bracelet again, her gaze hardening.
The Delacroix Group would crumble under the weight of this scandal. And with Frederick and Raphael powerless to stop it, Vanessa would have no choice but to run to Sebastian for help.
“Sebastian Blackwood, I can’t wait to see you scramble to save your precious fiancée.”
That night, as online traffic peaked, the bombshell dropped.
BREAKING: Whitmore Holdings Cuts Ties with Delacroix Group Over Major Quality Scandal!
Substandard Materials? Elysian Home Products Fail Safety Inspections!
The Delacroix family was blindsided. Their PR team floundered, unable to contain the wildfire of outrage spreading across social media.
Comments flooded in:
“Isn’t the Delacroix Group Sebastian Blackwood’s fiancée’s family? What a disaster before the wedding!”
“So much for marrying into money. Turns out they’re just shady furniture dealers.”
“I just bought furniture from Elysian Home! Returning it ASAP!”
In his study, Maxwell Reeves delivered the grim update. Sebastian massaged his temples as a headache pulsed behind his eyes.
“Whitmore Holdings holds considerable influence. If they’ve turned against the Delacroix Group, others will follow.” Maxwell’s lips twitched, his tone almost amused. “Analysts predict their reputation will tank by morning. Lucky for them, they’re not publicly traded.”
Sebastian exhaled sharply. “These are just accusations. Where’s the proof?”
“KS World Hotel’s new general manager led the charge. Within a week, every hotel under Whitmore Holdings canceled contracts with Delacroix.”
Sebastian’s eyes narrowed. “A general manager doesn’t have that kind of power.”
Maxwell smirked. “She does when she’s Reginald Whitmore’s daughter—Evelyn Sinclair.”
At the mention of her name, Sebastian’s expression darkened. A stranger’s name, yet it carried the weight of vengeance.
