Chapter 84

Nathaniel turned sharply, pinning Robert with an icy glare.

"Didn't I order you to investigate Harrison Sinclair? Report!"

Harrison had been getting alarmingly close to Evelyn. Had his assistant completely disregarded his instructions?

"Mr. Whitmore, he's from the Sinclair family in Nord City. Ms. Sinclair's cousin. Comes from old money—only acts because he enjoys it."

Nathaniel yanked his tie loose with a scoff.

"Men in Hollywood are all the same. Any dirt on him?"

Robert hesitated. "W-Well, no. Even the public agrees. He keeps to himself outside work. Sometimes even his agent can't track him down."

Nathaniel's jaw tightened. "Ex-girlfriends?"

"None. Never been linked to anyone. Stays clear of tabloids despite his fame."

"The only scandal was when he escorted Mrs. Whitmore to the Fleur Design Competition. He made sure the press only photographed her from behind to protect her privacy."

Nathaniel's fingers curled into fists. "Whose payroll are you on, exactly? His?"

Robert clamped his mouth shut.

"Continue," Nathaniel bit out.

"Rumors say he bought Mrs. Whitmore's old house."

"That dump? You think Evelyn would care?" He'd offered her ten times that in the divorce.

After a beat, Nathaniel snapped, "Tell legal to fast-track the asset division."

He'd make sure Evelyn saw how pathetic Harrison's gestures were.

"Sir, the plan was to finalize the divorce first—"

Nathaniel's glare could've frozen hell. "Are you getting divorced?"

Robert swallowed. "No, Mr. Whitmore."

"Then do your job. Or should we switch positions?"

Robert didn't dare breathe. Nathaniel's temper had never been this volatile.

Evelyn watched Nathaniel's car vanish before turning to the exquisite crib beside her.

She traced its carved edges, whispering, "Sweetheart, ignore Daddy. He's being difficult. But Mommy won't let him upset us."

She'd raise this child without his interference.

As she stepped out, Penelope stormed up, face flushed with outrage.

"Evelyn Carter! How dare you cling to Harrison Sinclair's coattails for fame?"

Though most hadn't recognized the woman in those photos, Penelope had spotted Evelyn instantly.

She'd initially believed it was Harrison—until discovering it was just his body double.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Jealous? You're welcome to try."

"I have standards. Unlike gold-diggers like you."

"Oh? Then who was it who kept name-dropping the Whitmores to compensate for her mediocre acting and forgettable face? Desperate much?"

Penelope's hand flew up—only for Evelyn to catch her wrist mid-air.

"Security cameras, darling. Imagine the headlines: 'Whitmore Heiress Assaults Civilian.' How would your fans react?"

Penelope paled. "You—!"

Evelyn released her with a shove. "Run along, little girl. Grown-ups are talking."

Penelope's tantrums were tedious, but predictable.

The next morning, Evelyn's phone buzzed with an unknown number.