Chapter 409

Evelyn's palms grew clammy in Dominic's grasp as she faced Lillian's challenge.

She had zero piano skills.

Her pleading eyes sought Dominic's help, but his expression remained unreadably calm.

Dominic gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "My girlfriend injured her finger yesterday," he announced smoothly to the crowd. "She won't be able to perform tonight."

He lifted Evelyn's hand—the one with the bandaged index finger from last night's apple-peeling mishap with the twins.

Murmurs of understanding rippled through the guests.

Dominic's lips curved. "But she has the voice of an angel. I'll accompany her on piano instead."

Evelyn's breath hitched.

She could sing, yes—but only alone in her room. Performing publicly made her want to vanish. How did Dominic even know about her secret talent?

He winked, mouthing "Later."

The memory surfaced abruptly—that summer night years ago when insomnia drove Dominic to wander the moonlit fields of her hometown. A crystalline voice had stopped him mid-step.

Hidden behind the ancient oak, he'd watched the girl with chestnut hair sing to the stars, her melody mending something fractured inside him.

That was how Dominic Blackwood first fell for Evelyn Sinclair.

"Trust me," he murmured now, fingertips brushing her wrist. "I know every song in your playlist by heart."

Evelyn exhaled. The moment her lips parted, the first notes of A Thousand Miles floated through the ballroom.

"Making my way downtown, walking fast, faces pass and I'm homebound..."

Gasps followed. Her voice—honeyed yet haunting—wove with Dominic's piano like silver threads through velvet.

But as she reached the bridge, a lump formed in her throat.

"If I could just see you tonight..."

The lyrics twisted into a premonition. Despite Dominic's promises, Lillian's venomous glare made Evelyn's chest tighten. Something was coming. Something that would tear them apart.

Dominic's hands flew across the keys, each chord amplifying her ache. Men dabbed at their eyes; women clutched their pearls.

When the final note faded, Dominic pulled her into an embrace scented with mint and regret.

Across the room, Genevieve Prescott stiffened.

This girl—this nobody—sounded exactly like her younger self. The resemblance went beyond looks. It was... unnatural.

The applause erupted like thunder, drowning out Lillian's furious whispers to her manager.

"Magnificent!" A duchess fanned herself. "Mr. Blackwood, you've hidden this prodigy from us!"

"Such chemistry," sighed a viscount. "Like watching Tristan and Isolde."

Lillian's manicured nails bit into her palms.

This was supposed to be Evelyn's humiliation. Instead, the little gold-digger had stolen her spotlight—with Dominic Blackwood as her willing accomplice.