Chapter 119

Evelyn paused for a moment. Her lashes fluttered slightly as she lifted her gaze with deliberate nonchalance, a faint smirk curling at the corners of her lips.

"Mr. Blackwood, why do you care?"

The answer wouldn’t change anything now. It was pointless.

"Tell me." Nathan’s voice was low, his dark eyes unfathomable, like the depths of a midnight ocean.

Evelyn lowered her lashes, her smile soft but edged with ice.

"Because my family despised you, and yet I was foolish enough to love you anyway."

That was why she had turned her back on everything—her name, her privilege, her world—and thrown herself into his arms.

And he had let her fall.

"Luckily, I’ve regained my sight." Her smile was razor-thin. "Are we done here, Mr. Blackwood? You should go discuss the wording of that apology with your father."

She took a sip of her wine, then turned on her heel and walked away without another glance.

Across the room, Alexander Sterling moved effortlessly through the crowd, charming every guest in his path.

William Sterling chuckled, then approached his son. "Where’s Lucas?"

As one of Evelyn’s most scandalous exes—and a Hollywood A-lister—his absence was conspicuous.

Alexander cleared his throat. "He said he’d ‘steal the spotlight’ if he showed up, so he’s at home watching his own movies."

William snorted. "What spotlight? The one his PR team bought for him?"

Meanwhile, Lucas Sterling, sprawled on his couch with a bowl of popcorn, sneezed violently.

As the gala neared its end, Isabella and Natalie managed to drag Evelyn away, slipping out to the Velvet Lounge.

"Nathan, you’re late!" Tristan Whitmore clapped him on the back as soon as he arrived.

After the Sterlings had rented out the city’s entire skyline to announce Evelyn’s identity—and the live photos from the gala had gone viral—the truth was undeniable.

Evelyn Sinclair was the Sterling heiress.

Tristan shuddered, recalling how he’d treated her over the years.

Nathan grabbed an untouched glass from the table and downed the whiskey in one swallow.

The others exchanged uneasy glances.

No one could believe it. The woman they’d dismissed as a gold-digger was royalty.

Tristan exhaled sharply. "She hid it too well. One day she’s just… there, at the top of the damn food chain."

A nervous laugh escaped one of the men. "Do you think she’ll come after us?"

Nathan’s jaw tightened. "No. Just me."

He was the one who had hurt her from the beginning.

Someone else muttered, "Is she William’s illegitimate daughter? How else was she kept a secret for so long?"

Nathan frowned. If she were illegitimate, why would William Sterling publicly claim her with such pride?

Clearly, the Sterlings had hidden her to protect her.

Tristan rolled his eyes. "Didn’t you read her bio? The Sterlings released her full history. Ivy League at thirteen, Ph.D. by twenty-one, internships with Europe’s top firms—she even advised royalty. She was a legend before she ever met Nathan."

The room fell silent.

They had mocked her, called her a schemer, a nobody.

Turns out, they were the ones beneath her notice.

Tristan nudged Nathan. "So why did she marry you? She must’ve been head over heels, right? What the hell happened?"

Nathan didn’t answer.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.