Chapter 121

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her glass as a bitter realization struck her. If I weren't William Sterling's daughter, I'd have been dead a dozen times over by now.

Tristan's face burned with shame. Pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.

But what choice did I have? The evidence was undeniable.

"What do you want?" Tristan's voice cracked. I must have been out of my damn mind to cross Evelyn Sterling!

Evelyn's gaze drifted to the window, her patience wearing thin.

She approached him with deliberate steps, her stilettos clicking ominously against the marble floor. "Those compromising photos seem to be your only concern," she purred, her voice dripping with icy amusement. "Three seconds. If you're not out of my sight by then, the entire internet gets front row seats to your little... performance by the fourth."

Tristan froze like a deer in headlights as Evelyn's lips curled in contempt.

Before she could finish counting, Tristan was already scrambling backward. "Please! Don't—don't do anything rash!"

True to her word, he vanished before the third tick of the imaginary clock.

Evelyn scoffed, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and strode away, her designer dress swaying with each confident step.

The night air hit her face as she exited the Velvet Lounge. There, leaning casually against her Lamborghini, stood Nathan Blackwood.

Waiting. Always waiting.

"Mr. Blackwood," she drawled, arching a perfectly sculpted brow. "Don't you have corporations to run or board members to intimidate?"

Her crimson lips stood out starkly against the inky darkness, a dangerous flame in the night. The coldness in her tone could freeze hell over.

Why couldn't he take the hint? She was done with this game.

Nathan's stormy gaze darkened further, his chiseled features shadowed under the dim streetlights. When he spoke, his voice was whiskey-smooth. "Evelyn, about Vanessa Holloway. She and I—it's not what you—"

The world tilted violently as Evelyn's foot slammed on the brake pedal. Nothing. No response. The steering wheel locked in her hands as panic clawed up her throat.

The car was completely unresponsive, hurtling toward certain death. The darkness ahead seemed to yawn open, eager to swallow her whole. The streetlights blurred into streaks of cold, mocking light.

Death had never felt so close.

Then—headlights. A massive semi-truck materialized three hundred feet ahead.

Time stopped.

CRASH!

Metal screamed against asphalt as another vehicle shot out from nowhere, skidding sideways to intercept her path. The impact sent her forehead smashing into the unyielding steering wheel—no airbag, just searing pain and the coppery tang of blood.

"Evelyn!"

That voice—she knew that voice.

Strong arms wrenched the door open, lifting her onto the roadside with surprising gentleness.

Nathan Blackwood. Of course. If I died now, the Blackwoods would have a PR nightmare on their hands.

His hands trembled slightly as they brushed her forehead, assessing the damage. Each touch sent fresh waves of agony through her skull. The metallic scent of blood sharpened her senses.

His embrace felt foreign—wrong. A year ago, she would have melted into his arms. Now, all she saw were snowflakes dancing behind her eyelids as she fought to stay conscious.

With monumental effort, she shoved against his chest, using the car door to pull herself upright. His totaled Range Rover had taken the brunt of the collision—without it, she'd be paste on that truck's grille.

"Thanks." Her voice was eerily calm despite the throbbing wound.

"Evelyn, you need medical attention—"

She ignored him, already dialing Bennett. "Get to my location now. Someone sabotaged my car. I want answers before sunrise."

The call ended with a decisive click.

"Your Rover's worth four million." She scribbled a figure on a check. "Here's ten. Consider the extra your hazard pay."

Under the flickering streetlight, blood crusted her temple and her usually pristine hair fell in disarray. Yet she'd never looked more regal—a queen surveying her kingdom.

Nathan's expression turned glacial as she shoved the check into his breast pocket. "You didn't hesitate when I needed blood. Now we're even."

The satisfaction was intoxicating as she walked away. Who knew Nathan Blackwood could be put in his place?

Her silhouette stretched long and unbroken down the sidewalk, not a single falter in her stride.

She never saw the flicker of regret in his eyes as she disappeared into the night.