Chapter 931

Preston chuckled softly, his fingers brushing a stray lock behind Evelyn's ear.

"Anything to see you smile."

Heat rushed to Evelyn's cheeks. Why was he whispering sweet nothings in the middle of a crowded gala?

Mortifying.

But she refused to let him see her flustered. Tilting her chin up, she arched a brow, lips curving.

"Even if it's arson? Murder?"

His grin widened. "Name the crime. I'll be your willing accomplice."

Always so ready to follow her lead.

Evelyn rolled her eyes, though the weight in her chest lightened. Setting down her champagne flute, she nudged him. "Restroom break."

Preston's fingers twitched toward hers. "Need an escort?"

"Seriously?" She shot him a look. "I'm not a toddler."

His lower lip jutted out. "I am."

The man was clingier than a koala.

Thankfully, their public dynamic hadn't shifted enough to raise eyebrows. But Evelyn wasn't about to indulge his PDA cravings with half the elite watching. Not when their relationship remained unannounced.

A warning glare silenced him before she strode toward the ladies' lounge.

The moment she stepped out, a blur of lilac silk crashed into her. The collision sent a teenage girl sprawling onto the marble, her short, ruffled dress hiking up indecently.

"Ugh! Watch where you're—" The girl's screech died as her gaze locked on Evelyn's identical shade of gown.

Evelyn extended a hand. "You okay?"

No apology. The girl had been the one barreling around the corner.

The stranger's eyes raked over Evelyn's floor-length silhouette—how the fabric draped elegantly over her slender frame compared to her own unflattering, thigh-grazing cut. A flush of envy darkened her cheeks.

With a huff, she slapped Evelyn's hand away and scrambled up.

Evelyn merely smiled and turned to leave.

"You're Evelyn Sinclair. Sterling Enterprises' COO."

Pausing, Evelyn glanced back. "That's me."

The girl's mouth twisted, but she stormed off without another word.

Odd.

Wasn't this the bathroom she'd been sprinting toward?

Evelyn watched her disappear into a nearby suite. Then—

"YOU scheming witch! You did this on purpose!" The girl's shriek rattled the crystal chandeliers. "Nicole's wearing the exact same color! Were you trying to humiliate me at my own birthday gala?"

A crash. Glass shattering.

Recognition clicked. This tantrum-throwing teen was Emily Crest—Pacific Crest Enterprises' heiress and tonight's honoree.

Fate's sense of humor was cruel.

"I saw her? How could I possibly know what she'd wear?" A familiar voice oozed faux innocence. "I just thought this style suited your—"

Evelyn's blood chilled.

Cassandra Blake.

"Liar! The stylist said you handpicked this disaster!" Emily's voice turned venomous. "Suddenly playing nice? Please. You're using me to get back at Evelyn, aren't you? Save the innocent act for Daddy—it doesn't work on me!"

Another crash. "GET OUT!"

The walls trembled from the volume.

But the real earthquake was the revelation tumbling from Emily's rage:

Cassandra was sleeping with Richard Crest.

And Evelyn had just stumbled upon their dirty secret.