Chapter 315
Old Mr. Prescott wanted to demolish the ancestral home and build a new residence in its place.
Evelyn had reviewed all the architectural proposals at T Corporation's design department.
Some blueprints showcased sleek modern villas, others featured traditional English estates, while a few incorporated oriental elements with tranquil rock gardens...
Every single design had been rejected by the stubborn old man.
Frustration mounting, Old Mr. Prescott began hurling insults at T Corporation's designers, furious that none of these so-called elite architects could interpret his vision.
The real challenge wasn't his pickiness - it was his utter inability to articulate what he actually wanted.
Architectural design wasn't just about technical skills.
True mastery required creativity, consistency, and an impeccable aesthetic sense.
Though Evelyn had studied architecture abroad, her mind remained blank. She couldn't decipher Old Mr. Prescott's elusive dream home...
Reviewing her afternoon sketches at the kitchen island, she frowned. Something crucial was missing.
The doorbell's chime interrupted her thoughts.
Assuming Dominic had returned, she rushed to open the door without checking the peephole - only to find Beatrice Lockwood's imperious face.
The aristocratic woman's features twisted in their usual haughty expression.
"What do you want?" Evelyn blocked the doorway, refusing entry.
Beatrice meant trouble. Always.
"It's freezing out here! After traveling all this way, won't you offer me tea? Where are your manners?" Beatrice's sharp eyes raked over Evelyn. "Think my son's protection makes you untouchable? My, how you've blossomed since our last meeting..."
Her manicured nails dug into Evelyn's cheek like talons.
This was the harlot who'd ensnared her son - the woman Dominic had publicly declared as the twins' biological mother.
Impossible!
Anyone but Evelyn Sinclair could be mother to those precious grandchildren.
When the news broke, Beatrice had refused to believe it.
She'd come demanding a DNA sample.
Her perfect son must be bewitched to fabricate such an outrageous lie just to force this marriage!
Pain flared across Evelyn's face. Instinct made her shove Beatrice back.
The older woman stumbled in her designer heels, crashing onto the marble steps.
Shock froze Beatrice's features.
Then she spotted Dominic's approaching headlights.
A plan formed instantly.
Fingers flew to muss her coiffed hair. She crumpled her Chanel suit deliberately.
"Help!" she wailed, flopping dramatically on the steps. "This vicious girl attacked me! Dominic, how could you love such a monster? She won't even let a mother see her own son!"
Each word stabbed Evelyn's heart.
Furious yet restrained, Evelyn grabbed Beatrice's elbow and hauled her outside, slamming the door.
Dominic heard the commotion from the driveway.
Tires screeched as he parked haphazardly.
He arrived just as Evelyn ejected his mother.
His expression darkened. Not again.
"Look what she did to me!" Beatrice pointed at imaginary injuries. "If you don't throw her out immediately, I'll—"
"Enough." Dominic's voice cut like ice. "What are you doing here?"
The socialite gaped at her son's unfamiliar coldness.
"Is this how you speak to your mother? That witch has poisoned your mind! Can't you see she's abusive?"
"Mother." Dominic hauled her up roughly. "Stop the theatrics. I know you're unharmed. Evelyn would never—"
"But she—"
"I trust her completely." His glare silenced her. "I'm taking you home."
Beatrice's act faltered. The air thickened between them.
Her body stiffened as if bound by invisible chains.
The scheme had failed. Her son's piercing gaze filled her with despair.
Bianca's spell was irreversible!
Undeterred, Beatrice renewed her wailing, clinging to the porch railing like a petulant child.
Inside, Evelyn pressed against the door, heart aching.
Why did Beatrice despise their love so violently?