Chapter 50
The image that flashed across the screen was pulled from the official judicial archives—dated three years prior. Sebastian Whitmore stood in his black robes, delivering a fiery closing argument in court.
The facial recognition software Zachary Blackwood had developed could unearth any individual’s digital footprint within five minutes—provided there was a clear photo. More precise than any search engine, it left no stone unturned.
Yet, Sebastian’s profile had taken nearly ten minutes to surface. The man was a ghost—rarely photographed, no social media presence. Just a prosecutor, but why the secrecy?
“Nathan Whitmore… Sebastian Whitmore…” Zachary’s breath hitched as realization struck. His jaw tightened.
His knuckles whitened around his phone. So Evelyn hadn’t rejected everyone after leaving him. First Nathan, now Sebastian? Another Whitmore brother? Who the hell did she think she was?
The roar of an engine shattered his thoughts. Through the tinted windows, a sleek black sports car tore past—Evelyn’s. What was she doing here? This wasn’t a coincidence.
Rage burned through him. His fist slammed against the glass. “Maxwell! Follow that car!”
Reporters swarmed the hotel entrance like vultures. Police struggled to clear a path for Damien Delmar’s getaway vehicle. The press conference had imploded spectacularly.
Sebastian, however, slipped out the back exit. Leaning against the brick wall, he checked his watch. Right on time.
A black Lamborghini purred to a stop in front of him.
Tristan Gallagher rolled down the window. “Afternoon, Mr. Whitmore.”
“Tristan.” Sebastian crouched to peer at Evelyn, lounging in the passenger seat. His thumb brushed her cheek. “Someone’s been feeding you well. You’ve got actual dimples now.”
“I have not!” She swatted his hand away, scowling.
“Liar. It’s cute.”
Of all the greetings—weight comments? Evelyn huffed. No wonder he was perpetually single.
Unseen, Zachary’s grip on his car door turned lethal. The way Sebastian touched her—casual, familiar—ignited something primal in him.
Maxwell flinched at his boss’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Truthfully? He wasn’t shocked Evelyn had admirers. Brilliant, stunning—she could have anyone. The real mystery was why Zachary had ever let her go.
“So?” Sebastian straightened, flashing a grin. “Do I look dashing in my courtroom glory?”
“Mm. Viral, actually.” Evelyn tapped her phone screen. “#HotProsecutorWhitmore is trending. Half the internet’s proposing to you.”
Sebastian scoffed. “Let them dream. Only one woman’s opinion matters.” He flicked her nose. “Yours.”
“Ugh. Save the cheese for closing arguments.” She laughed, then sobered. “Seb, I need your help with the fallout. Damien Delmar doesn’t get to walk away.”
His smirk sharpened into something dangerous. “Three years minimum. No parole. No deals. And Evelyn?” He leaned in. “You were brilliant. The way you played him—like a damn fiddle. If all criminals were that gullible, my job would be easy.”
Damien was an idiot. But Whitmore Holdings could only nail him because Gregory Holloway—
