Chapter 157

The call ended abruptly. Cassandra Blake shot Evelyn Carter a calculating glance. She was determined to prove to Penelope Whitmore that Evelyn was indeed expecting.

But there was no need to rush.

After a brief pause, Cassandra opened WhatsApp and typed with a smirk, "Reginald, didn’t you mention wanting to meet a talented designer?"

"Funny enough, there’s a colleague in my studio who recently outshined me and won first place in the Fleur International Design Competition."

With her plan set, Cassandra sauntered over to Jonathan Reeves.

"Jonathan," she said sweetly, "we just received a high-profile villa design order. The client specifically requested Evelyn to handle it."

Jonathan nodded. "I’ll deliver the project details to her later."

Cassandra left the office, lips curved in satisfaction.

Now that she had ties to the Whitmore family, it was best to distance herself from Reginald.

Letting Evelyn take her place would simplify things—shielding Cassandra from any potential fallout.

With Penelope involved, Reginald wouldn’t dare touch her.

Soon after, Evelyn secured the luxury villa design contract.

When she called the client, a middle-aged man answered. After introductions, Evelyn asked, "Could you share your design preferences?"

"Mr. Stewart is occupied. If you want details, you’ll need to meet him in person," came the curt reply.

"When would be convenient?"

"Tomorrow afternoon. Come directly to the villa." The line went dead.

Evelyn stared at her phone, musing how the wealthy all seemed to share the same impatience.

Building a fortune in this era clearly didn’t come with manners.

The next afternoon, Evelyn arrived at the villa.

But the moment she stepped inside, unease prickled her skin.

It wasn’t the lavish decor—something just felt off.

She settled on the sofa, waiting.

A maid approached with a tray of juice.

"May I—" Evelyn began, but the maid walked away without a word.

Evelyn hesitated, eyeing the drink. Pregnant, she couldn’t risk consuming anything questionable.

Time crawled. The sun dipped low, casting long shadows.

The room grew colder.

Evelyn dialed the client again. No answer.

As she stood to leave, a commanding voice stopped her.

"Ms. Carter. Wait."

Turning, she saw an elderly man in a wheelchair emerging from the elevator, flanked by a burly middle-aged man—the one from the phone.

Evelyn forced a polite smile. "Hello, Mr. Stewart."

"I heard you won the Fleur Competition. Talent and beauty often go hand in hand," Reginald remarked, his gaze unsettling.

Evelyn’s smile tightened. "Here are some design sketches. Let me know if anything appeals to you."

Reginald gestured sharply. Anthony Russo snatched the sketches as Reginald handed Evelyn a business card.

"You may not know me, Ms. Carter. Allow me to introduce myself."