Chapter 8
“Vanessa? Are you okay?” Isabella gasped, though her tone carried a hint of skepticism.
Zachary strode forward to help Vanessa up, but she stubbornly refused to budge.
“Zachary, it hurts. Carry me.” Vanessa whimpered, her knees trembling as crocodile tears streamed down her cheeks.
Evelyn crossed her arms, watching the spectacle with detached amusement. What a perfect match—a conniving actress and a man blind to her theatrics.
“Zachary… Evelyn pushed me!” Vanessa buried her face in his chest, then shot Evelyn a venomous glare.
“Vanessa, what are you saying?” Zachary stiffened, taken aback.
“Are you sure I pushed you?” Evelyn smirked, unfazed. “Or did gravity suddenly betray you?”
“Do I look like the kind of person who would throw myself onto the floor?” Vanessa’s voice cracked with indignation.
“Honestly? Yes. You seem fragile enough to collapse from a strong breeze.”
“You—!” Vanessa’s face flushed crimson. “You shoved me when I walked past you! Are you seriously denying it?”
“Ms. Delacroix, we live in a world of surveillance. Accusations require proof.” Evelyn’s gaze sharpened, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “And slander is a punishable offense. I could sue you for defamation.”
Zachary studied Evelyn, stunned by her transformation. This wasn’t the meek woman who had once waited for him like a forgotten shadow.
Vanessa, realizing she was losing, shot Isabella a desperate look.
“It must have been a misunderstanding!” Isabella quickly interjected, her eyes darting to the security camera overhead. “Vanessa probably tripped and accidentally bumped into Evelyn. That’s all.”
“Vanessa, did you trip?” Zachary’s voice was icy.
“I—I thought she pushed me…”
Zachary’s expression darkened, and panic flickered in Vanessa’s eyes.
“If she hadn’t moved, I wouldn’t have fallen! She wanted this to happen!” Vanessa held up her broken emerald bracelet dramatically. “This was my grandmother’s heirloom! It wouldn’t be shattered if not for her! Evelyn, I know you’re bitter about the divorce, but taking it out on me? Is it my fault your marriage failed?”
Tears spilled down her cheeks—a masterful performance.
“First of all, I’m not bitter. I’m grateful.” Evelyn tilted her chin up, her voice laced with steel. “Thanks to you, I’m free from a marriage where I was nothing but an afterthought.”
Zachary flinched. An afterthought?
“Second, if this is your heirloom, you should thank me.” Evelyn picked up a broken fragment and held it to the light. “It’s a fake.”
“What?!” Vanessa paled. Even Isabella gasped.
“The center is filled with synthetic resin. Wearing this long-term could poison you.” With a flick of her wrist, Evelyn tossed it into the trash. The genuine emerald bracelet on her own wrist—a gift from Archibald—was a silent mockery.
“Mr. Blackwood, if Ms. Delacroix is your girlfriend, you should at least buy her real jewelry,” Evelyn taunted.
“Evelyn Sinclair.” Zachary’s jaw tightened.
“There are some emerald pieces left at Blackwood Manor. Feel free to use them—if you don’t mind hand-me-downs.” Evelyn dusted off her hands as if Vanessa’s cheap trinket had contaminated her.
Vanessa seethed. This bitch is mocking me!
But before she could retort, Evelyn was already walking away.
Outside the hospital, Evelyn couldn’t suppress a laugh. Vanessa’s theatrics were almost impressive.
“Evelyn Sinclair.”
Zachary’s voice sent a shiver down her spine. She turned, the wind tousling her hair, framing her face like a portrait of effortless elegance.
His gaze darkened as he approached.
“Something else, Mr. Blackwood?” Her tone was frosty. “If Vanessa is still upset about her bracelet, I’ll send her a new one—authentic this time.”
“Earlier, you told Grandfather—”
“Oh, that?” Evelyn’s expression softened only at the mention of Archibald. “Don’t read into it. I just didn’t want him distressed.”
“We’re even now.”
Evelyn blinked. Even?
“You lied about your identity to marry me. I won’t expose you to Grandfather or the Blackwoods.” His voice was cold.
Her pulse spiked. Can I deny it?
“But you will tell me why you used a fake identity. Or rather—” Zachary stepped closer, his breath warm against her skin. “What was your real motive in getting close to Grandfather?”
Evelyn’s heart ached. She instinctively stepped back—only to realize too late there was a stair behind her.
She stumbled.
In a flash, Zachary caught her, his hand firm around her waist. Their eyes locked. Her cheeks burned; his breathing hitched.
Even now, his face was unfairly perfect. Thirteen years ago, an eleven-year-old Evelyn had been saved by those same piercing eyes during a storm. He had been her hero.
But the man before her now had become her tormentor.
Zachary steadied her, then released her abruptly.
“Thank you.”
“Answer me.”
“I’m not your wife anymore. I owe you nothing.” She turned to leave.
“You’re still legally bound to me until the divorce is finalized.” He grabbed her wrist. “I have a right to know who you really are.”
“I can’t tell you!” Her eyes glistened. “You talk about rights, Zachary, but where were yours during our marriage? Why should I owe you anything now?”
“Evelyn,” he growled, pulling her flush against him. “Don’t test me.”
“Investigate me, then. What’s the point of asking?” She wrenched free and walked away without looking back.
Zachary watched her go, his chest tight. Her red lips, her defiant stride—why had she changed so much? Was it for Nathan?
What does Grandfather even see in her?
“Mr. Blackwood!” Maxwell rushed over. “Ms. Delacroix says her ankle is sprained. She’s crying for you.”
A roar of an engine cut through the air.
“That’s—that’s Mrs. Sinclair!”
Zachary’s ex-wife sped past in a limited-edition Bugatti, the epitome of untouchable luxury.
“Turns out Mrs. Sinclair is loaded,” Maxwell muttered, stunned.
Zachary’s fists clenched.
