Chapter 206

The moment Evelyn heard Sebastian's frustrated groan through the phone, a smirk curled her lips. Her perfectly arched eyebrows lifted in amusement.

That troublesome acquisition had nearly burned her fingers. If he wanted it so badly, he could have it.

"Then I got beaten up for nothing!" Sebastian's aggrieved wail crackled through the line. His voice dropped to a wounded whisper. "You didn't even bother to visit me."

Evelyn's smirk deepened. "Prince Charming Hart, what exactly would my visit accomplish?"

Silence. Then a sharp intake of breath.

She could practically see his face flushing crimson with rage. His next words came out through gritted teeth. "Evie, how dare you mock me?"

A soft laugh escaped her. "Don't be such a drama queen."

"Just stay home and reflect on your mistakes. Next time, you might not even have the strength to dial my number." The line went dead with an angry click.

Sebastian probably felt like that call had shaved years off his life.

Outside, night had fallen. Evelyn skimmed through a stack of documents before retiring. Sleep claimed her effortlessly.

Dawn painted the sky in soft hues when she awoke. Stretching languidly, Evelyn slipped out of bed. Bennett arrived promptly with the car, whisking her away to the grand opening of the Global Summit Center.

Documents occupied her during the short ride. Before she knew it, they'd arrived.

Inside the Summit Center's exhibition hall, the ceremony unfolded with understated elegance. Only specially invited members of high society graced the event. Evelyn declined the Chairman's personal greeting with a polite smile.

Stepping out of the car, she moved toward the art exhibition with Bennett at her side. Diverse artistic styles - romantic, realist, abstract - coexisted harmoniously within semi-partitioned spaces.

Most pieces displayed were priceless collector's items, elevating their allure. Evelyn paused before nearly every painting, absorbing each masterpiece with quiet intensity.

Noticing her absorption, Bennett drifted toward his own favorites.

Evelyn reached the final display - a massive canvas shrouded in black velvet. Assuming a staff oversight, she lifted a corner with the provided tool.

Gold-encrusted doors materialized from darkness, slightly ajar. Light spilled through the gap like a blade piercing night's throat. Before the doors stood a woman's silhouette.

Clad in crimson, her curves accentuated by the dress's plunge, the figure's waves of hair cascaded down bare shoulders. The red fabric bled into surrounding shadows.

Breath caught in Evelyn's throat. The painting's oppressive anticipation struck like a physical blow. Conflicting emotions tangled in her chest - familiarity warring with unease.

The exquisite tension between weight and levity left her unsettled. Her fingers stiffened. Vision locked onto the canvas, she stood transfixed.

"Evelyn?" A melodic voice interrupted her trance.

She turned automatically, smile blooming at the sight of Eleanor Hart - Sebastian's mother, recently returned from her Swiss vacation glowing with health.

"It is you! That silhouette looked unmistakably familiar."

Evelyn embraced the older woman warmly before noticing her companion. Victoria Ashford stood stiffly beside Eleanor. Evelyn's smile widened. "Ms. Ashford. What a coincidence."

Victoria's responding smile never reached her eyes. Their first encounter had ended with Victoria's humiliation. Neither woman pretended otherwise.

Yet decorum prevailed before Eleanor. "Ms. Sinclair. I didn't realize you appreciated fine art."

Evelyn chuckled at the barb. "Did you assume I only appreciate stock portfolios, Ms. Ashford?"

Eleanor blinked, sensing the frost between them. Before she could intervene, the curator hurried over.

"Mrs. Hart, Ms. Sinclair, my sincerest apologies for the inadequate reception. Have any pieces particularly captivated you?"

Victoria seized the opportunity. "This one's exceptional. Mrs. Hart admires it too. Allow me to purchase it for you."

Eleanor demurred. "Oh darling, that's too generous—"

But Victoria, eager to curry favor, turned to the curator. "I'll take this painting. Have it wrapped."

The curator shook his head apologetically. "I'm afraid that's impossible."