Chapter 3
The grand estate of Crestwood Manor stood proudly in Faircrest, home to the illustrious Whitmore family. The sleek Rolls-Royce glided to a stop on the crimson carpet leading to the mansion’s entrance. Sebastian Whitmore stepped out to welcome his sister, opening the car door with a flourish.
“Welcome home, princess!”
Evelyn Sinclair’s delicate features shimmered under the golden chandelier lights. She had swapped her sneakers for stilettos, transforming her look from casual to regal. Every step she took exuded confidence, as if she owned the world.
“How have you been, Sebastian?”
“Better now that you’re back.” His handsome face lit up with excitement. “Did you see the fireworks? My birthday gift for you set the whole city abuzz! It was trending for hours.”
Evelyn smirked. “Oh, I saw. People were speculating if some billionaire was trying to win back his ex. A few even called it tacky. Congratulations on your new achievement, Sebastian.” She clapped mockingly.
Ignoring her teasing, Sebastian pulled her into a tight embrace. “You’re not leaving us again, are you?”
“No. Zachary divorced me—why would I run now?” She patted his back reassuringly, though a shadow flickered in her eyes. “I embarrassed all of you. Three years I spent trying to make him love me, pouring everything into that marriage. And what did I get? A signed divorce paper.”
Her heart ached, but she refused to shed another tear for Zachary Blackwood. Not after walking out of Blackwood Manor for the last time.
“That bastard!” Sebastian growled. “How dare he treat my sister like this? I’ll launch a full investigation into Blackwood Enterprises tomorrow. And if that fails, I’ll have Julian arrange an ‘accident’ for him.”
Nathan Whitmore, standing nearby, muttered a quiet “Amen.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian. You’re a prosecutor,” Evelyn said dryly. “Why can’t you be more like Nathan? Learn some peace.”
“Peace?” Sebastian scoffed, loosening his tie in frustration. “You don’t know the things he did before becoming this serene saint. But mark my words—Zachary Blackwood just made an enemy for life.”
Evelyn looped her arms through her brothers’, and the trio strode into the grand foyer of Crestwood Manor, the place she had missed dearly.
Upstairs, Reginald Whitmore—the formidable chairman of Whitmore Holdings—paced his study anxiously. The stern man rarely showed emotion, but tonight, his face betrayed his excitement.
“Dad! I’m home!”
Evelyn breezed into the study, her brothers flanking her. Gone was the demure facade she wore for the Blackwoods. She flopped onto the sofa, kicking off her heels with a sigh. Nathan sat beside her, lifting her feet onto his lap and massaging them gently.
“Where are your manners?” Reginald scowled. “Did those three years abroad turn you into a barbarian?”
Evelyn rolled her eyes. “Alzheimer’s setting in already? I’ve always been like this.” Then her gaze landed on the wall—and she froze.
Framed and displayed like priceless art were the sarcastic posters she had made over a decade ago. One read: “Thinking you’re Adonis won’t make your midlife crisis any less pathetic.” Another: “Take care of your health, old man. Strokes aren’t fashionable.”
Her wedding gift to him when he married his third wife.
The Whitmores had been the talk of Faircrest due to Reginald’s multiple marriages. Disgusted by the family drama, Evelyn had fled abroad, joining Doctors Without Borders and saving lives instead.
“Three years away, and the first thing you do is insult your father. What a devoted daughter.” Reginald glowered.
“Glad you noticed, Daddy.” She grinned.
Nathan cleared his throat. “Now that Evelyn’s back, we should discuss business.” He slipped her shoes back on, then straightened. “I’m stepping down as president of Whitmore Holdings. Evelyn will take my place.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened.
Reginald sputtered. “You—!”
“Father, this was always temporary. My calling is the church.” Nathan’s voice was calm but firm, his expression serene. A halo of determination seemed to glow around him.
“Then Sebastian can do it!” Reginald countered desperately.
Sebastian recoiled. “Absolutely not! I’m a government official. Any ties to major corporations would be a conflict of interest!”
Reginald groaned. What was the point of having four sons if none wanted the empire he built?
“Who says a woman can’t run a company?” Evelyn lifted her chin defiantly. “I’ll be president.”
Reginald scoffed. “Whitmore Holdings isn’t child’s play. Do you even know the first thing about business?”
“Remember the financial crisis four years ago?” Nathan interjected smoothly. “Evelyn drafted the recovery plan. And two years ago, she single-handedly orchestrated the Willow Group acquisition—staying up for days to perfect it.”
Reginald blinked, stunned.
Sebastian nodded. “She’s the brightest of us all, Dad. You’ve always prided yourself on recognizing talent. Well, here she is.”
After a long pause, Reginald sighed. “Fine. Consider this your birthday present. Rest for a few days, then report to Whitmore Grand Hotel in Verona City. Turn that failing property profitable, and I’ll consider making you president.”
As they left the study, her brothers squeezed her shoulders.
“Great responsibility requires great strength,” Nathan murmured.
“Dad just handed you a disaster,” Sebastian added.
Evelyn smirked. “Pressure only makes me stronger.”
The brothers exchanged a glance and smiled. Our sister is back
