Chapter 151

"You must make her pay, Nathan! Hello? Nathan?" Before Eleanor could finish her outburst, the line went dead.

Her chest heaved with rage as she hurled her phone against the wall. "Evelyn, you scheming little witch!"

The flush of anger spread across her face like wildfire.

Nearby patrons began whispering behind their hands, casting curious glances her way.

Eleanor suddenly wished the marble floor would swallow her whole.

"Mrs. Blackwell."

A pair of designer heels clicked into view. Diana Chamberlain stood before her with a polished smile, extending a perfectly manicured hand.

Eleanor eyed the stranger suspiciously. "Do I know you?"

"That's unimportant. What matters is our mutual... acquaintance with Evelyn Carter."

At the mention of that name, Eleanor's spine straightened. "You're one of her minions?"

Diana's laugh tinkled like crystal. "Quite the opposite, Mrs. Blackwell. I was hoping we might discuss her over tea. Are you available?"

Though every instinct warned her, Eleanor's thirst for vengeance won out. "Lead the way."

The two women disappeared into a private lounge.

Meanwhile, Evelyn emerged from her spa appointment glowing with renewed confidence.

No longer would she play the meek wife, bending to Nathan's every whim. The old Evelyn was back.

Back at Kingsley Industries, she buried herself in work until the stack of files finally disappeared from her desk.

"Maxwell, distribute these to department heads before tomorrow's meeting," she instructed, glancing at her watch.

"Anything else pending?"

Her assistant noted the dark shadows beneath her eyes. "Ms. Carter, you've been burning the midnight oil all week. Perhaps you should—"

"I'll rest when everything's done."

Knowing better than to argue, Maxwell discreetly shelved several non-critical documents.

By the time Evelyn finished, the city lights had already begun their nightly dance across the skyline.

Only then did she power down her laptop and reach for her purse.

Her car waited in the far corner of the B1 parking level.

Just as the engine purred to life, a sleek Lamborghini Aventador screeched to a halt, blocking her exit.

That arrogant move could only mean one person.

Nathan Sterling's intense gaze burned through her windshield.

Cigarette butts littered the ground around his car, the interior thick with smoke. Control slipping through his fingers was an unfamiliar sensation.

Evelyn remained stone-faced, laying on the horn.

The tinted window slid down to reveal Nathan's chiseled profile. "We need to talk."

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. "About what? We said everything months ago."

"My mother's outburst earlier—don't take it to heart."

So Eleanor had gone running to her precious son. Predictable.