Chapter 819

Evelyn Sinclair froze when she recognized the man standing before them.

Tristan Whitmore.

Vivian Lockwood's expression darkened instantly, all traces of her previous smile vanishing.

"How did you get in here?" she demanded coldly.

Tristan's lips thinned. Just as he was about to speak, Evelyn shot him a warning glare.

He turned away. "I slipped past security."

"You're not welcome here," Vivian snapped.

Tristan scoffed. "You mean you're the one who doesn't want me here."

"At least you understand that much."

Evelyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Maybe she should excuse herself.

After a quick assessment of the situation, she decided a strategic retreat was best.

Before she could stand, Tristan ground out through clenched teeth, "What does that pretty boy even offer you? He'll never inherit a cent from the Blackwood fortune. He's just amusing himself with you—"

Crack!

Vivian's palm connected sharply with Tristan's cheek. Her gaze turned glacial.

"Get out! My personal life is none of your concern!"

Tristan's face flushed crimson as he struggled to control his temper.

Just as he opened his mouth to respond, Adrian Blackwood's mocking voice cut through the tension. He'd been watching Vivian from across the room and rushed over the moment he spotted Tristan. That snake was back again.

"Mr. Whitmore, I must say your persistence is... remarkable. Don't you know when to quit?"

Tristan's face darkened at Adrian's arrival. "This is between me and my ex-wife. Stay out of it."

Adrian smirked, his striking eyes glinting with mischief. "Funny, I recall she's my girlfriend now. So I suggest you back off."

The two men squared off, their auras clashing violently.

Tristan, a seasoned businessman who'd navigated corporate warfare.

Adrian, an adventurer who'd survived the harshest wilderness.

In terms of status, Tristan held the advantage.

But Adrian had Vivian's favor—the ultimate trump card between rivals.

"You arrogant little—" Tristan nearly lost control. "Adrian Blackwood! Don't overestimate yourself. What standing do you even have in the Blackwood family? If not for Nathan's protection, I would've crushed you long ago!"

His words were brutal but accurate.

With Nathan Blackwood as the family heir, the rest were mere satellites.

Tristan and his circle respected—and feared—only Nathan, not the Blackwood name itself.

Adrian merely arched a brow, studying Tristan with amused detachment.

He casually draped an arm around Vivian's shoulders, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. "I know I can't compare to you, Mr. Whitmore. But my feelings for Vivian are genuine. Take your anger out on me if you must—just don't hurt her because of me."

The air grew thick with tension. Evelyn's eyes widened in disbelief.

Holy hell.

If she hadn't witnessed it herself, she'd think this was some bad soap opera.

Adrian sounded like the heroine in some cheesy romance novel.

The fakeness was palpable.

Tristan looked physically ill from Adrian's performance.

His sharp gaze turned murderous, the killing intent rolling off him in waves.

Even from her seat several feet away, Evelyn could feel the icy rage radiating from Tristan's entire being.