Chapter 117

The private room at Saffron Bistro echoed with the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood as Julian Hawthorne vented his rage on everything in sight.

"That insolent woman! How dare she humiliate me like this?"

He kicked over a chair, sending it flying across the room with a violent crash.

His jaw clenched. He couldn’t let this stand.

If he backed down now, Evelyn Carter would forever have the upper hand, and he’d never regain control.

Pulling out his phone, he dialed a number.

"Use whatever means necessary. I want Evelyn disgraced and out of Kingsley Industries by the end of the week."

He hung up, but before he could leave, a sharp knock interrupted him.

"Who is it?" he demanded, wary.

The door swung open.

"Mr. Hawthorne, our chairman requests your presence."

Julian frowned. "And who is your chairman?"

"Alistair Delaney."

The name was familiar, but Julian had no dealings with the Delaneys. "What does Mr. Delaney want with me?"

"You’ll find out soon enough."

After a brief hesitation, Julian followed the man out.

At 11 PM, the neon lights of Eclipse Lounge pulsed with life. The bass thrummed through the floor, electrifying the crowd, pulling them deeper into the night’s intoxication.

In a shadowed corner booth, Nathan Sterling sat with a stormy expression, downing glass after glass of whiskey.

"Man, what’s eating you?" Gregory Hammond leaned in, studying his friend’s dark mood.

Nathan remained silent.

Gregory smirked. This was rare. "Let me guess… trouble with your ex-wife?"

Nathan’s grip tightened around his glass.

Gregory’s grin widened. "Damn, I hit the nail on the head!"

"Don’t bring her up." It was the first sentence Nathan had uttered all night.

Gregory chuckled. "So she did get under your skin?"

"Shut up."

Gregory sighed dramatically. "Man, we really screwed up back then."

Every time he remembered how they’d treated Evelyn, regret twisted in his gut.

They’d lost their chance to be on good terms with the Kingsley heiress.

"Come on, it’s just a woman. Cheer up! Look around—plenty of beautiful women here. Tell me your type, and I’ll have one sent over."

Nathan’s cold gaze swept the room. "Not interested."

"Fine. Suit yourself." Gregory turned his attention to the dance floor.

Just then, the music surged, the spotlight shifting to a woman in a crimson dress that clung to her curves like liquid fire.

"Holy hell, look at her!" Gregory’s eyes widened as he watched the woman move with hypnotic grace.

Long legs, a waist that begged to be held, and a presence that commanded every gaze in the room.

Her dance was pure seduction, drawing screams and whistles from the crowd.

Even the way she turned her back was enough to make men lose their minds.

Gregory let out an impressed whistle.

Then, she turned—her face illuminated under the shifting lights.

Gregory nearly choked.

"No way—that’s Evelyn!"

Nathan, mid-sip, froze.

Gregory was practically vibrating with excitement. "Nathan, look! It’s your ex-wife!"