Chapter 95

Evelyn Roland dug her fingers into her shoulders until her knuckles turned white. The filthy sensation still clung to her skin, making her want to scrub it raw.

"Disgusting," she muttered through gritted teeth, pushing open the stairwell door.

The hallway lights made her squint. She strode toward her cleaning station, oblivious to the tall figure shadowing her.

"Stop."

Sebastian Valdemar studied the slender back in the oversized janitor uniform. There was something familiar about that delicate waistline and the way she carried herself.

Evelyn froze. She'd recognize that voice anywhere. Turning around now would be walking straight into the lion's den.

She pretended not to hear, bending to wipe down a display case. The cloth made soft scraping sounds against the glass.

Sebastian's brow furrowed. This cleaner's attitude was suspicious.

As footsteps approached, Evelyn's pulse hammered against her ribs. Every muscle tensed, ready to strike. Compared to those spoiled brats earlier, this man was a hundred times more dangerous.

"Mr. Valdemar!"

Dylan Orlando's voice cut through the tension. He jogged over, headphone wires swinging. "There's an urgent proposal requiring your approval."

Sebastian gave the unmoving figure one last glance before turning away.

Only when the footsteps faded completely did Evelyn exhale. This spot was compromised now. Clutching the flash drive, she slipped into the staff dressing room.

The awards ceremony glittered under spotlights. Isabella Langley clung to Alexander Roland's arm, her voice syrupy sweet. "Brother, it's finally over."

"Our Isabella was magnificent," Alexander said, ruffling her hair. But his gaze kept drifting toward Sebastian.

Sebastian sat at the judges' table, long fingers tapping the armrest. He watched Isabella's performance with the same disinterest as a tedious board meeting.

Isabella bit her lip. She'd chosen this body-hugging gown specifically, yet Sebastian hadn't even glanced her way.

"And now, the final results!"

The host's booming voice filled the venue. Numbers scrolled across the giant screen—Dylan Orlando's votes surged ahead by a landslide.

Alexander's nails dug into his palms. This meant Isabella would lose the award.

"Don't worry, brother." Isabella suddenly smiled, her manicured finger tracing his hand. "The real show is just beginning."

Her eyes locked onto a shadowy corner backstage where a figure in a baseball cap melted into the darkness.