Chapter 342

Donovan Blackwood stood with his hands casually tucked in his tailored suit pockets, his expression unreadable. He gave an admiring glance toward Evelyn before shrugging nonchalantly.

Evelyn didn't spare him another word. She turned sharply, her designer heels clicking against the marble floor as Rosalind Baskins followed closely behind. They found Rosalind Fairchild waiting near the grand staircase.

This was Rosalind Fairchild's first high-society gala, and her nervous energy was palpable. She clutched her champagne flute too tightly, her eyes darting around the opulent ballroom filled with strangers. When Evelyn approached, relief washed over her face.

"Rosalind." Evelyn's voice was warm yet controlled.

Rosalind immediately grasped Evelyn's hands. "I've been waiting all night to see you." The dampness of her palms betrayed her anxiety.

Evelyn gave her a reassuring smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Relax. Everything's going according to plan."

"I lost track of Dorothy. She was right here a moment ago," Rosalind said, scanning the crowd.

"After tonight," Evelyn murmured, leaning closer, "Dorothy Simmons is no longer my mother. And I'm no longer Evelyn Carter."

Rosalind's brows knitted together. "Then who are you?"

"Cassandra Wright," Evelyn whispered the name like a sacred vow.

Rosalind's face lit up. "What a perfect name. Cassandra... it suits you."

"Liam chose it," Evelyn admitted with an uncharacteristic giggle.

Before Rosalind could process this revelation, the orchestra's tempo shifted dramatically. The chandeliers dimmed as spotlights illuminated the central stage.

All conversation ceased as every guest turned toward the dramatic reveal. Victoria Dawson emerged in a blood-red couture gown, her arm linked with Donovan's. Her smile was blindingly bright.

Donovan delivered a predictably dull speech thanking family, friends, and his "beloved" fiancée. The crowd applauded politely while Evelyn's sharp eyes cataloged every important attendee - media moguls, legal experts, government officials, and most importantly, Defense General Liam Blackwood.

Rosalind Baskins pressed close to Evelyn's ear. "When do we make our move?"

"Are my grandparents in position?" Evelyn asked without turning.

Rosalind gestured discreetly toward the stage's left wing. "Seated in the front row. They're scheduled to speak next."

Evelyn's lips curved into a predatory smile. "No more waiting. Begin."

Rosalind's fingers closed around the remote in her clutch. With deliberate slowness, she pressed the button.

The romantic montage on the massive LED screens dissolved into stark black text: "SHE'S NOT VICTORIA DAWSON. SHE'S A FRAUD."

Gasps rippled through the ballroom like wildfire. Donovan and Victoria whirled around, their expressions frozen in shock.

Victoria's porcelain complexion drained of color. "Who did this?" she shrieked, her voice cracking. "Turn it off immediately!"

"Me." Rosalind Baskins stepped forward, her voice cutting through the murmurs like a blade.

Every head turned as she strode confidently toward the stage. Without breaking stride, she vaulted onto the platform with athletic grace, hands clasped behind her back like a general inspecting troops.

Donovan's face darkened with recognition. Victoria recoiled as if struck, the resemblance to Evelyn triggering her buried guilt. "Security!" she screamed. "Remove this woman! She's crashing our event!"

Five uniformed guards rushed the stage. Rosalind dispatched them with brutal efficiency - a spinning kick here, a precise elbow strike there. Within seconds, they lay groaning on the polished floor.

Victoria's composure shattered completely. "You incompetent fools!" she spat at the guards before turning desperately to Donovan. "Your father's the mayor! Call the police! Arrest her!"