Chapter 242

Victoria Ashford's face twisted in fury, her eyes blazing with uncontained rage.

She remained the CEO of Ashford Enterprises, an undisputed powerhouse in Santa Barbara. How could she endure such repeated humiliation?

Victoria's crimson glare locked onto the hulking bodyguard beside her.

"What are you waiting for? Take her down!" The command sent the man lumbering toward Evelyn Sinclair with predatory intent.

His orders were clear - incapacitate the target for easy transport. The tension crackled like live wires about to snap.

Evelyn's icy gaze swept over them. Her fingers tightened around the concealed stiletto in her palm.

The temperature seemed to drop several degrees.

A sudden gust of wind signaled movement behind Evelyn. The guard's meaty hand reached for her shoulder to immobilize her.

Tristan Whitmore and Harrison barely had time to shout a warning.

Then - like lightning - Nathan Blackwood materialized between them. His steel-toed boot connected with the guard's abdomen with bone-crushing force.

The impact sent the man flying backward as if hit by a truck. Every organ in his body seemed to rupture simultaneously.

He collapsed like a marionette with cut strings, barely breathing, completely immobilized.

Victoria's posture stiffened almost imperceptibly. Her best operative had been neutralized in seconds. Swallowing her volcanic rage, she turned venomous eyes toward Nathan.

"Playing the white knight, Mr. Blackwood?" Her voice dripped with false sweetness.

Nathan's glacial stare held something far more dangerous than anger - the promise of annihilation. Tristan recognized that look with dawning horror.

The predator had reemerged after years of civilized restraint.

"Victoria Ashford," Nathan's voice could have frozen hell, "you overestimate your importance. Does your failing company mean nothing to you?"

His gaze flickered to Evelyn standing barefoot on the pavement, then back to the three assailants. Something primal uncoiled in his chest - a mix of protective fury and lingering terror.

Nathan had walked through darkness so Evelyn wouldn't have to. The thought of these vultures laying hands on her ignited something ancient and violent within him.

His bloodshot eyes pinned Victoria in place. Business negotiations? Those happened at his discretion. There were no terms to discuss, no reparations to consider.

What gave this woman the audacity to bargain with him? Years of legitimate dealings had made people forget how he'd clawed his way up from the underworld.

Victoria's smirk faltered as she reassessed her position. The legends about Nathan Blackwood suddenly felt less like exaggeration and more like warnings.

No matter Ashford Enterprises' standing in Santa Barbara, against Blackwood Industries they were insignificant. Her furious gaze shifted to Evelyn as a cruel smile twisted her lips.

"Ms. Sinclair," she spat the name like poison, "how... fortunate for you."

"You certainly have a way with men, Evelyn." Victoria Ashford's lips curled into a mocking smile. "But don't count on being this fortunate again."

Evelyn Sinclair lowered her lashes, concealing the icy contempt in her gaze.

The words ignited something primal within her. This woman actually believed there would be a next time? How utterly delusional. Evelyn stood motionless, refusing to acknowledge Nathan Blackwood's presence from the start.

His intervention meant nothing to her. When Victoria's taunt reached her ears, Evelyn lifted her chin and swept a glacial stare across the assembled guests. Finally, those frosty eyes settled on Nathan.

"Tonight's performance has been... unexpectedly entertaining." Evelyn's voice carried a deceptive lightness, though a dangerous edge lurked beneath the surface. She let the words hang in the air like a suspended blade.

The tension between them crackled like static before a storm. Nathan's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his protective stance shifting subtly closer to Evelyn despite her obvious rejection of his aid.

Victoria's smirk faltered for the first time that evening as she registered the unspoken challenge in Evelyn's demeanor. The atmosphere grew thick with unspoken threats and buried history.

Evelyn's fingers absently traced the stem of her champagne flute, her posture deceptively relaxed. Yet everyone present could feel the lethal energy radiating from her - a panther pretending to lounge while preparing to strike.