Chapter 75
Evelyn remained unshaken by Penelope’s two-faced antics. The woman had deliberately spilled those details to paint Evelyn as nothing more than a discarded gold-digger from some backwater town.
Seraphina and Vanessa exchanged smug glances, barely concealing their delight.
The Whitmores and the Blackwoods had been at odds for years. Nathan, as Reginald’s eldest son and heir to Whitmore Holdings, was a man of immense prestige. There wasn’t a woman in high society he couldn’t have.
So why would he ever settle for someone the Blackwoods had cast aside? The mere thought was laughable.
Sebastian’s expression darkened. “That’s private. You have no business discussing it.”
“Sebastian, this isn’t just personal—it involves both families,” Penelope pressed, feigning concern. “I’m only trying to prevent a scandal when people find out your ex-wife is here. I’m doing this for everyone’s sake!”
“Does it really concern both families?” Madeline cut in with a sharp smile. “Ms. Sinclair divorced Mr. Blackwood. Divorce means it’s over. So why do you insist she’s still tied to your family? Did she sign some eternal contract when she married in? Or will she forever bear the Blackwood name, even in death?”
Her tone turned mocking. “Ms. Sinclair has moved on with Nathan. There’s nothing scandalous about that. Just because she’s divorced doesn’t mean my family won’t accept her. It’s the 21st century, Mrs. Blackwood. Try keeping up.”
Lucian nearly choked on his drink, stifling a laugh. Cassandra and the Delmars stood frozen, their faces burning with humiliation.
Why did Madeline sound like a lioness defending her cub?
“Mrs. Whitmore, you come from nobility—you must understand my concerns!” Penelope pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears.
Flushed with frustration, she pressed on. “The moment Ms. Sinclair left Sebastian, she latched onto Mr. Whitmore. If word gets out, people will assume they were involved while she was still married! How disgraceful! Don’t you care about your son’s reputation? As the matriarch of the Whitmores—”
“Enough.” Madeline’s hand lifted, silencing her instantly.
“This is between our children. While I may be older, I’m not Nathan’s mother. I have no right to interfere.” Her gaze turned icy. “And since you’re not Sebastian’s birth mother either, isn’t it beneath you to meddle in such matters?”
Penelope’s mouth snapped shut.
“Yes, Reginald is my husband,” Madeline stated coolly. “But don’t ever call me the matriarch of the Whitmores again.”
The warning sent a visible chill down Penelope’s spine. She paled, stiff as a statue.
Evelyn bit her lip, forcing down the lump in her throat.
There was only one true matriarch of the Whitmores—her mother.
Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his gaze flickering. He had never loved Evelyn. Their marriage had been nothing but ink on paper. And yet, when Penelope sneered at her, something primal in him bristled.
Why did he feel like his own pride was being trampled?
“Ms. Sinclair, are you looking for Nathan? Shall I accompany you?” Madeline’s voice softened as she turned to Evelyn.
“Thank you, Mrs. Whitmore. I’d appreciate that,” Evelyn replied, her smile demure, every inch the refined lady.
“What a polite, lovely girl,” Madeline declared, loud enough for everyone to hear. She took Evelyn’s hand. “Nathan has excellent taste.”
The unspoken challenge hung in the air—Try saying another word against her.
Penelope’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Game. Set. Match.
