Chapter 466

Victoria Ashford stood trembling in her soaked dress, her pitiful appearance almost unbearable to witness.

The air grew heavy with silence. Tristan Whitmore exhaled in relief. At least Nathan's anger wasn't directed at me.

Nathan Blackwood's gaze was icy, his attention deliberately avoiding the drenched woman. His lips pressed into a thin, tense line.

Though his expression remained cold, a trace of sorrow flickered in his eyes.

His thoughts were clearly elsewhere - with a certain someone who wasn't present. The grand ballroom buzzed with laughter, oblivious to the unfolding drama. Tristan discreetly touched Nathan's shoulder, uncertain how to handle the situation.

Nathan's brow furrowed slightly. Tristan cleared his throat. "Preston, perhaps you should..."

Victoria's sobs grew louder as she stared pleadingly at Nathan.

Nathan's voice cut through the air like winter frost. "This is your event. Handle it yourself."

Tristan froze. "But she was just with you—"

A warning glare from Nathan silenced him. "We're strangers." With that, Nathan wheeled himself away without another glance, leaving them behind.

Tristan stood rooted to the spot, momentarily at a loss. Victoria's cries intensified. "Could you... lend me a jacket? I need to dry off."

"Right. There's a private room upstairs you can use." Tristan scanned the room unsuccessfully for staff before reluctantly removing his suit jacket. He stayed at a safe distance as he tossed it toward her, wary of getting entangled with this clearly manipulative woman.

Across the room, Evelyn Sinclair leaned close to Preston Sinclair, discussing their upcoming project in hushed tones.

Preston clinked his glass gently against hers. "Mr. Blackwood is heading this way," he murmured.

Evelyn glanced up to see Nathan approaching alone in his wheelchair. Victoria was conspicuously absent - apparently abandoned with Tristan. What a wasted opportunity.

Nathan's stormy expression darkened further when he noticed Preston beside Evelyn.

Tristan hurried after Nathan, taking control of the wheelchair. He nodded politely at Preston. "Mr. Sinclair, what a pleasant surprise! I'd appreciate your thoughts on something. Shall we talk over there?" He gestured toward the terrace.

As the host, Tristan couldn't be refused. After a brief hesitation, Preston acquiesced.

Evelyn swirled her grape juice absently, watching the exchange. She turned to Nathan with a polite smile. "Mr. Blackwood, has the entertainment concluded already?" Her tone was light, almost teasing.

Nathan's fingers tightened on the wheelchair armrests. He struggled to contain the tempest within. "Evelyn, was this your doing?"

She blinked innocently. "My doing what?"

"Out of all possible people, why send me over there?" Nathan's voice turned sharp, though part of him dreaded the answer he might receive.

Evelyn's lips curved into a knowing smile as she lowered her gaze. "I assumed you and Chairman Ashford were acquainted. Naturally, you wouldn't ignore his daughter." Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "Besides, I heard her mention you earlier. None of this would have happened without your involvement."

Though she left the implication unspoken, Nathan had heard enough. "I don't know her!" he ground out, emphasizing each word.

His eyes burned into Evelyn's, red-rimmed with suppressed emotion. A bitter laugh escaped him. "Evelyn, you truly have a gift for torture."