Chapter 871
Evelyn Sinclair tilted her head slightly. "When I received invitations before, it was always Harrison who contacted me. This time, it was just some random coordinator."
That detail had been bothering her. As she spoke, her phone buzzed.
A message from Preston Sinclair.
"I need a plus-one for Blackwood Industries' gala tomorrow at noon. Care to join me?"
Evelyn's brows lifted. Blackwood Industries had invited Preston too?
That confirmed her suspicions.
With Preston's status, he could attend any high-society event he pleased.
But Nathan Blackwood had always despised him. Why would Nathan extend an invitation now?
Her fingers tapped out a reply. "Sure."
If there were questions, she'd find the answers there.
A sly smile curved her lips.
Alexander Sterling watched her expression and sighed. "So you're going. Want me to tag along?"
Evelyn paused. "No need. I've got my escort. Since you're playing hooky from work, go be disgustingly sweet with Amelia."
Alexander rolled his eyes.
"By the way," she added, "I'm selling the penthouse near the office." She refused to risk running into Nathan every time she stepped outside.
Alexander smirked. "Short on cash?"
"Hardly. I just don't want it anymore."
"If you don't like it, leave it empty. You own half the city anyway, and I've got plenty of spare properties. Take your pick."
To Alexander and William Sterling, wealthy people didn't sell real estate—they hoarded it. The concept of letting go was foreign.
Evelyn exhaled. Pointless. He was just a money-making machine wrapped up in his love life.
She changed the subject. "When's the wedding?"
"Who's your date?" Alexander countered.
Evelyn pressed her lips together. Alexander fell silent too.
Touche.
Siblings. What was the point?
That evening, Alexander was still fishing with Amelia and William.
As dusk fell, the pond grew lively.
Evelyn and Lucas seized the moment to slip away.
Lucas headed to Natalie Beaumont's place, while Evelyn retreated to one of her many luxury apartments near the company.
Thank God for excessive real estate investments.
The next evening, Blackwood Industries' gala unfolded at The Regal Grand, dripping with opulence.
The event balanced exclusivity with spectacle—typical of Reginald Blackwood's taste for showing off while pretending to be modest.
Evelyn wore a fitted black gown tonight. A belt of pearls and diamonds accentuated her waist, radiating elegance and sharp intellect.
Her striking features glowed under the chandeliers, but her gaze remained cool, detached—a frosty contrast to the warmth around her.
The moment she stepped out of the car, eyes locked onto her—admiring, envious, resentful.
Tristan Whitmore hadn't exited the vehicle yet. He studied the radiant woman through the window, then glanced at Nathan beside him.
"Divorced less than a year, and Evelyn's transformed completely," he mused.
If someone had told him this was the same woman who once trailed after Nathan like a lovesick puppy, he'd have laughed in their face.
The difference was staggering.
Beside him, Nathan tensed, his gaze snapping toward Evelyn. His jaw tightened.
"She's here."
Tristan blinked. "You didn't know she was invited? It's your family's event. How do you miss these details when you're trying to win her back?"
Nathan's expression darkened. "Do you ever shut up?"
Tristan threw his hands up. What did he say wrong?