Chapter 300

Reginald Blackwood's face turned crimson with rage when Dominic declared he would marry no one but Evelyn Sinclair. His cane struck Dominic's shoulder with a sharp crack. "Ungrateful wretch! You'd disgrace our family with that scandalous woman? Have you considered how this will tarnish the Blackwood name? Do you want us to become A City's laughingstock?"

Dominic stood unwavering. His next words ignited his grandfather's fury further. "What reputation do we currently possess, Grandfather?"

His pointed glance toward Beatrice Lockwood and Margaret Lockwood on the sofa spoke volumes.

The air thickened with tension.

What modern man maintained two concurrent wives?

Reginald gasped for breath, clutching his chest. Julian Blackwood quickly patted his back. "Grandfather, your blood pressure—the doctor warned against agitation. Another episode will land you back in hospital... Ow!"

Reginald's cane connected with Julian's skull, eliciting a yelp. The younger man rubbed his head, shooting his grandfather a wounded look.

The patriarch's glare silenced him. "Quiet, you! Your brother infuriates me, but you're no saint either. Weekly tabloid scandals with starlets—do you think this doddering old man can't discipline you?" Julian swallowed his protest.

"Why am I catching strays when we're discussing Dominic?"

Margaret Lockwood bristled at her son's chastisement. "Father, be fair! Who barred Julian from corporate affairs? Dominic monopolizes Blackwood Enterprises while Julian's left with an empty 'Vice President' title. His frustration drives him to seek distractions. If Julian helmed the company—"

The injustice burned. Her son should've inherited everything, not that bastard child of Beatrice Lockwood's. Two decades hadn't dulled the sting.

Julian groaned. "Mother, spare me! I'd bankrupt us within a quarter. Never suggest this again or I'm moving out."

Beatrice's lips curled in triumph.

The legitimate wife bore a worthless heir.

Reginald's shoulders slumped. He'd failed Julian. The boy lacked Dominic's ruthless business acumen. Past attempts letting Julian manage subsidiaries ended in spectacular failure. Handing him Blackwood Enterprises would be corporate suicide.

"Enough. Starting tomorrow, you'll shadow Dominic. No more squandering your life!" Reginald commanded.

Julian blanched. "Work? At my age? Surely you jest—"

"Twenty-seven isn't a child! Must I beat responsibility into you?" The raised cane silenced further protests.

Dominic observed coldly. These theatrics were routine. Only with Evelyn did he experience true family. The thought softened his gaze.

"Grandfather, Mother—my decision stands. I'll marry Evelyn Sinclair or no one." With that, he ascended the staircase with the twins.

The suffocating tension below warranted no further engagement.

Reginald's outrage choked him as Dominic departed. His trembling hands gripped the cane.

Dominic paused. "Julian, summon Dr. Whitmore. Grandfather needs sedation."

Beatrice's expression darkened at Evelyn's name. That gutter rat would never be her daughter-in-law.

Meanwhile, at Café Lumière...

Victor Langley adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses. His tailored suit and polished Oxfords drew admiring glances from nearby patrons.

His fingers drummed the marble table. The composed facade belied his racing pulse.

Serena Delacroix's call had seemed a cruel joke—until she materialized before him, as icy and unattainable as two decades prior.

"Long overdue," Serena said, seating herself. Her controlled gaze masked seething hatred.

"You've been... well?" Victor's throat constricted.

The nation's top attorney stammered like a schoolboy.

Serena's mocking smile cut deep. "Spare the pleasantries. I'm here to demand you withdraw from Evelyn Sinclair's defense."

"That's impossible—" Victor's protest died as she produced a manila envelope.

"Read this first."

The document inside turned his blood to ice. His hands shook violently as comprehension dawned—along with unbearable agony.