Chapter 821
Preston Sinclair wasn't a man without a temper. He simply knew how to conceal it.
But seeing Evelyn Sinclair being disrespected? That was a line he couldn't ignore.
Evelyn's breath hitched. The sheer audacity of his protectiveness sent warmth flooding through her chest.
She flashed him a grateful smile.
The crowd around them watched, stunned. Tristan Whitmore, humiliated by Preston's public reprimand, burned with fury.
Who the hell does he think he is? Tristan seethed.
Standing firmly in Nathan Blackwood's camp, he already despised Preston. He opened his mouth to retaliate—
Then he caught the icy glint in Evelyn's eyes.
A shudder ran down his spine.
He had just insulted Evelyn Sinclair.
The realization hit him like a bucket of ice water.
She had his secrets. His ruin. And she wasn't just anyone—she was Evelyn Sinclair.
Swallowing his rage, Tristan forced a stiff smile and bowed slightly before the gathered elite.
"My words were careless. My apologies, Evelyn. I spoke out of turn. Please, forgive me."
The room collectively held its breath.
Tristan Whitmore, CEO of Ludwig Corp, groveling?
Even if Ludwig Corp wasn't what it used to be, Tristan had influence. He was Nathan Blackwood's closest ally.
Yet here he was, bending the knee over a few thoughtless words.
Evelyn merely arched a brow, entirely unsurprised.
She gave him a slow, assessing look. Finally, some sense.
Had he pushed further, she would’ve destroyed him.
After a beat of silence, she smiled sweetly. "Forgiven, Mr. Whitmore. But watch your tongue next time."
Her tone was light, almost playful. Only Tristan heard the razor-sharp warning beneath.
His scalp prickled.
Dominic Kingsley, sensing the tension, smoothly intervened. "Ah, the champagne! Let’s toast, shall we?"
The guests' attention shifted, leaving Tristan seething.
He shot Nathaniel a venomous glare, but before he could speak, Nathaniel smirked.
"Nikki," he drawled, "after everything we've been through—"
Evelyn set her glass down with a sharp clink.
"Get out."
Tristan's jaw clenched. He had come to humiliate Nathaniel, only to humiliate himself.
He could afford to anger anyone here—except Evelyn Sinclair.
Forcing another smile, he nodded stiffly.
"Of course."
As he turned to leave, he leaned in, hissing at Nathaniel, "Manipulative bastard. This isn’t over."
The moment Tristan was gone, Evelyn nearly laughed.
But she schooled her expression—Vivian Lockwood was still watching.
Nathaniel rolled his eyes and tugged Vivian to her seat.
"He's not wrong, you know," he muttered. "If you wanted to ruin him, you could’ve just said so."