Chapter 816

Evelyn's smile held a knowing edge. "Do you really think that's possible?" She had always been on Vivian's side.

Tristan pressed his lips together, stepping closer. His voice dropped to a whisper meant only for her ears.

"Or I could call Nathan over to handle this."

A dark promise laced his words.

"He won't just throw punches. People die when he loses his temper."

His gaze flicked meaningfully toward Preston, who stood protectively beside her.

Damn Tristan Whitmore. Someone needs to knock him down a peg.

Evelyn's breath hitched. He's threatening me?

But she believed him. Nathan's rage was legendary—unpredictable, destructive.

They hadn't clashed yet, but if they did, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Her smile tightened. After a beat, she turned to the doorman.

"Let Mr. Whitmore in. I'll take responsibility."

With that, she walked away like she was shaking off something vile.

Preston didn't ask questions. Inside, the temperature was perfect—warm enough to shed her coat. He took it from her shoulders, handing it to a nearby waiter with effortless grace. Evelyn murmured her thanks. When she reached for a glass of red wine, Preston stopped her.

"Your leg just healed, and you're still on medication." His tone was firm but gentle. "No alcohol."

She nodded, amused by his protectiveness. It was... refreshing.

He handed her a soda instead. She took it with a smile, but before she could step further into the room, a familiar voice cut through the chatter.

"Evelyn! Where have you been hiding? I've missed you desperately!"

Adrian Blackwood strode toward them, dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit. Tall, effortlessly charming—he looked like a prince straight out of a fairy tale.

No wonder he'd skyrocketed to fame the moment he entered the industry.

His grin was rakish, his eyes full of mischief. He opened his arms wide, ready to pull her into an embrace. Then Evelyn remembered the rumors—Adrian and Vivian were together.

Her lips curved into a sly smirk.

Before Adrian could reach her, Preston extended a hand. "Mr. Blackwood."

Adrian froze, finally noticing the man beside her. His brows knitted together in exaggerated offense.

"Evelyn, I was first in line. How could you let someone cut in?"

She rolled her eyes. Dramatic as always.

Adrian recovered quickly, sizing Preston up. "You know me? Well, I know you too, Mr. Sinclair."

Preston's expression remained polite, his nod courteous.

Their handshake was brief, impersonal.

Adrian leaned in, whispering theatrically, "Look, I still think we're the best match, but honestly? Anyone but my uncle. We can't let him win."

Evelyn arched a brow. Oh, I'm definitely telling Nathan about this.

"Don't worry," she said sweetly. "I'll pass along your thoughts."

Adrian paled. "Uh—no, no need for that—"

If Nathan heard that, Adrian's life would be over.

Just then, the director and Dominic Kingsley approached, glasses of wine in hand.

The show's lineup was still impressive, even after the initial uproar over Evelyn, Nathan, and Xavier's departures.

Once the outrage settled, the audience realized—the new cast was just as compelling.

Each had their own story, their own reasons for starting over.

Because at the end of the day, women like Evelyn and Vivian didn't walk away from their marriages lightly.

They did it because they had no other choice.