Chapter 29
The morning sun cast a golden glow over Crestwood Manor, painting the grand estate in hues of warmth. Evelyn Sinclair stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows of her private study, her fingers tracing the delicate rim of her coffee cup. The aroma of freshly brewed espresso filled the air, but her mind was elsewhere—occupied by the weight of recent revelations.
A sharp knock interrupted her thoughts.
“Come in,” she called, turning to face the door.
Tristan Gallagher, her ever-efficient secretary, stepped inside, his expression unreadable. “Ms. Sinclair, you have an urgent call from Mr. Whitmore.”
Evelyn’s pulse quickened. Nathan Whitmore, her eldest brother and the formidable CEO of Whitmore Holdings, rarely called without reason. She set her cup down and reached for the phone.
“Nathan,” she greeted, keeping her voice steady.
“Evelyn,” his deep voice resonated through the line, laced with an edge she recognized immediately—trouble. “We have a situation. The Blackwood Enterprises deal is under scrutiny. Sebastian Blackwood just pulled out of the Silverpine Valley project.”
Her breath hitched. The Silverpine Valley project was supposed to be the crown jewel of their collaboration—a merger of resources that would solidify both families’ dominance in Faircrest.
“Why?” she demanded, her fingers tightening around the phone.
Nathan exhaled sharply. “Vanessa Delacroix happened.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. Vanessa—Sebastian’s first love, his current fiancée—had always been a thorn in her side. But this? This was sabotage.
“I need you at the office in an hour,” Nathan continued. “We’re holding an emergency board meeting.”
She didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be there.”
As she hung up, her gaze flickered to the framed photograph on her desk—a candid shot of her and Sebastian from years ago, before betrayals and corporate wars tore them apart. His piercing green eyes stared back at her, filled with a promise that had long since been broken.
Now, Vanessa was making her move.
And Evelyn wasn’t about to let her win.
Downstairs, the manor buzzed with activity. Servants hurried about, preparing for the day, but Evelyn barely noticed. Her mind raced with strategies, countermoves—anything to salvage what was left of the deal.
Just as she reached the grand foyer, her phone buzzed again. An unknown number.
Curious, she answered.
“Miss Sinclair,” a smooth, unfamiliar voice purred. “I believe we have a mutual problem.”
Evelyn froze. “Who is this?”
A low chuckle. “Let’s just say… I have information that could ruin Vanessa Delacroix. And I’m willing to share—for a price.”
Her grip on the phone turned vice-like.
Game on.
The bitter truth was, Zachary Blackwood had never known real love. Instead, he felt himself drowning in a sea of helplessness within this twisted relationship.
A sharp knock shattered his thoughts. “Come in,” Zachary called out, his voice rough. Nathaniel Graves stepped inside, clutching a file.
“I’ve completed the investigation, Mr. Blackwood,” Nathaniel reported. “Whitmore Holdings terminated all contracts with Delacroix Group nine days ago, returning their products. At that time, Sterling Industries hadn’t yet exposed the quality scandal to the press. The public backlash was purely speculative.”
Zachary clenched his jaw. He knew exactly what had followed—Vanessa announcing their engagement while hiring writers to slander Evelyn. Only then had Sterling Industries struck, exposing the Delacroix Group’s corruption and triggering this disaster.
His head throbbed. Zachary swallowed an aspirin, his hands trembling.
“I also discovered something else,” Nathaniel continued. “Whitmore Holdings had a Vice General Manager named Gregory Holloway. He accepted massive bribes from Delacroix Group before Ms. Sinclair took over. When she uncovered his scheme—using substandard materials—she fired him immediately. The man had worked there for twenty years, personally promoted by Mr. Whitmore himself.”
Nathaniel whistled. “She’s ruthless. A female version of you, Mr. Blackwood.”
Despite his lingering resentment over the staircase incident, Nathaniel couldn’t help but admire her.
Zachary massaged his temples. “Everything connects.”
A phantom sound echoed in his mind—the sharp click of Evelyn’s heels. Then her voice, soft and concerned:
“Zachary, stop taking those pills. Tell me when it hurts. I’ll massage it away.”
“It kills me to see you in pain. I’ll find a cure. We won’t suffer anymore.”
Her words wrapped around him like a ghostly embrace. He could almost feel her fingers pressing against his temples.
Zachary recoiled. Damn it! Not her again! He cursed himself. I never cared about her before. Why can’t I stop thinking about her now? I’m not some lovesick fool!
Night had fallen when his Rolls-Royce glided through the rain-slicked streets near Whitmore Holdings’ crown jewel—the luxurious hotel whose prime location had always stirred envy in Zachary.
Had they not lost their prestige due to mismanagement, it could have been Faircrest’s only six-star establishment. But Evelyn Sinclair seemed capable of restoring its former glory.
At a red light, Zachary wiped the fogged window and froze.
A woman stood by the curb, umbrella in hand, hailing a cab. His pulse spiked. Before Nathaniel could react, Zachary threw open the door and sprinted into the downpour.
“Mr. Blackwood!” Nathaniel shouted, scrambling after him.
The woman—Evelyn—finally flagged down a taxi. Just as her fingers brushed the handle, Zachary seized her wrist.
She whirled around, face draining of color. “M-Mr. Blackwood?”
“Ms. Sinclair.” Rain dripped from his lashes, shadowing his darkened gaze. “Need a ride?”
With a gasp, she wrenched free and dove into the cab. The tires screeched as it sped away.
“Mr. Blackwood!” Nathaniel arrived, panting, holding an umbrella.
Zachary shoved it aside. Drenched and shaking, he stared at the taillights vanishing into the storm.
Evelyn—
