Chapter 23
The morning sun cast golden streaks across the marble floors of Crestwood Manor as Evelyn Sinclair paced the length of her gilded prison. The Whitmore estate was a masterpiece of wealth and power, yet to her, it felt suffocating.
Her phone buzzed—another message from Tristan Gallagher, her ever-loyal secretary. “Nathan wants to see you in his office. Urgent.”
Evelyn scoffed. Urgent. Everything was urgent when it came to her eldest brother, Nathan Whitmore, CEO of Whitmore Holdings. She had barely slept since the disastrous gala where Sebastian Blackwood had publicly humiliated her, and now her family was circling like vultures.
She dressed quickly, opting for a sleek black dress—armor for the battle ahead.
Nathan’s office was a fortress of glass and steel, overlooking Faircrest’s skyline. He stood by the window, his back rigid, while her other brothers—Sebastian, Julian, and Dominic—watched her with varying degrees of concern.
“You’ve been avoiding us,” Nathan said, his voice sharp.
Evelyn crossed her arms. “I needed space.”
“Space?” Sebastian, the prosecutor, stepped forward. “You mean hiding from the media storm? The Blackwoods are dragging our name through the mud.”
A bitter laugh escaped her. “Oh, please. Since when do the Whitmores care about reputation? Father’s had four wives, and none of you batted an eye.”
Dominic, the quietest of them, finally spoke. “This is different. Sebastian Blackwood isn’t just some socialite. He’s a predator.”
Evelyn’s nails dug into her palms. Predator. The word twisted in her gut. She had loved Sebastian once—before Vanessa Delacroix slithered back into his life.
Julian, ever the peacemaker, sighed. “We’re pulling you from the Silverpine Valley project.”
Her head snapped up. “What?”
“It’s damage control,” Nathan said coldly. “Until this scandal dies down, you’re benched.”
The room spun. Silverpine Valley was hers—her vision, her negotiations. And they were stripping it away like she was some incompetent child.
Evelyn straightened, her voice icy. “Fine. But don’t expect me to sit quietly while you hand my work to some sycophant.”
She turned on her heel and stormed out, ignoring Nathan’s call.
The city streets blurred as Evelyn walked aimlessly. She needed a drink. Or a fight. Maybe both.
A sleek black car pulled up beside her. The window rolled down, revealing Maxwell Reeves, Sebastian Blackwood’s ever-efficient secretary.
“Mr. Blackwood requests your presence,” he said smoothly.
Evelyn’s pulse spiked. “Tell him to go to hell.”
Maxwell didn’t flinch. “He thought you might say that. He asked me to remind you of Clause 12-B in your contract.”
Her breath hitched. That bastard.
Clause 12-B: A confidentiality agreement tied to their annulled marriage. One that could ruin her if leaked.
Evelyn clenched her jaw. “Fine. But this isn’t over.”
As the car sped toward Blackwood Tower, she braced herself.
Sebastian always did love his games.
And this time, she refused to lose.
“Zachary, have you investigated the situation? What’s going on?” Alistair demanded, his arm wrapped protectively around Isabella.
“The culprit is Evelyn Sinclair, the newly appointed CEO of Whitmore Holdings.”
Zachary lowered his gaze to the floor, unwilling to witness the intimate display between his father and stepmother. Alistair had never shown him or his mother any kindness in the past. He doubted Alistair even remembered his mother’s face anymore.
“Whitmore Holdings? The Sinclairs of Faircrest?” Isabella gasped, covering her mouth with a delicate hand. “That’s the wealthiest family in the city! How on earth did Vanessa cross them?”
“Our families have been enemies for generations,” Zachary explained flatly. “Their great-grandmother swore never to form a marital alliance with ours. Anyone who defies that decree is disowned.”
He didn’t care. His fiancée was Vanessa, not some Sinclair. Yet the words still sent a chill down his spine.
“Good heavens!” Isabella twisted her handkerchief in agitation. “The Sinclairs must be targeting Blackwood Enterprises because Zachary is marrying Vanessa. They’re trying to ruin us indirectly—how despicable!”
“Zachary,” Alistair commanded sternly, “meet with Ms. Sinclair tomorrow. Convince her to cease her attacks on Blackwood Enterprises. This isn’t just about business—it’s about our family’s honor.”
“Why so harsh, Alistair?” Isabella cooed, massaging his shoulders. “Zachary is a good son. He just needs guidance.”
“I’m saving Blackwood Enterprises for Vanessa’s sake. Nothing more, Aunt Isabella.” Zachary’s voice was ice.
Without another word, he turned and strode out. Isabella’s face paled with fury.
“I’m Alistair’s wife, yet he still calls me ‘aunt’! The disrespect!”
“Stop right there!” Alistair barked, rising to his feet. “Isabella is my wife—your mother. Show some respect!”
Zachary halted but didn’t turn back.
“A man can have many wives, but only one mother. You know that better than anyone. Don’t push me.”
Nathan Whitmore visited Evelyn in Verona City. Over dinner, the conversation turned to Gregory Holloway and Blackwood Enterprises.
“Father already knows your plan,” Nathan said, expertly slicing Evelyn’s steak. “He only said we shouldn’t let them off easily if the evidence is solid.”
“Father may be a scoundrel with women, but he’s shrewd in business,” Evelyn replied, savoring a bite.
“That’s why our mothers adore him. Aside from his philandering, he treats them well.”
“True. Only the newest wives smile. No one sees the abandoned ones weeping.” Evelyn’s grip tightened on her fork as she stabbed into the meat.
Nathan noticed her reddened eyes and sighed, gently ruffling her hair.
“You don’t resent the other mothers anymore. You just can’t forget the past—how unfair it was for our mother. But Lyse, have you considered that she might’ve moved on?”
“How could she?” Evelyn’s voice cracked. “She tolerates it, but no woman truly accepts sharing her husband. And yet—” She cut herself off sharply.
She was no better. She knew Zachary still longed for his first love, yet she’d been foolish enough to hope.
Reginald Whitmore was a womanizer, but at least he cherished his wives.
But Zachary?
He couldn’t even meet her eyes. He’d betrayed her, twisted her kindness into malice.
Thirteen years of love—for this? The thought was laughable.
“Zachary’s been quiet lately. No calls,” Nathan mused, swirling his wine.
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, I’m sure he’s too busy cleaning up Vanessa’s messes to remember I exist.”
Her glass caught the light as a cold glint flashed in her eyes.
