Chapter 212

The news about the sponsorship reached Evelyn Carter just one day before the fashion show rehearsal.

"Darling, guess what?" Olivia Sinclair's eyes sparkled with excitement. "Sterling Enterprises is funding this entire venue. And get this—Nathan Sterling himself will be delivering the opening speech tomorrow."

Evelyn nearly dropped the fabric swatches in her hands. "Since when does Sterling Enterprises dabble in charity work?"

Olivia smirked, crossing her arms. "Oh, please. It's obviously damage control after Vanessa's little scandal. Their reputation took a hit, so now they're playing the benevolent benefactors."

A mischievous glint appeared in Olivia's eyes as she leaned closer. "But what if... just what if Nathan only agreed to this because he knows you're the lead designer?"

Evelyn's fingers stilled. Olivia had unwittingly struck a nerve.

"Don't be ridiculous," Evelyn scoffed, though her voice lacked conviction.

She knew Nathan better than anyone.

The man had never gone out of his way for anything—least of all for her. Why would he start now?

Besides...

"Whatever Nathan does these days is none of my concern. We're like parallel lines—destined never to intersect."

Olivia arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "I just hope certain people see it that way too."

Evelyn shrugged. "How others perceive things is their problem, not mine."

Meanwhile, at Kingsley Industries, Julian Hawthorne was far from idle.

His high-stakes wager with Evelyn still loomed over him, keeping him on constant alert.

"Mr. Hawthorne," his assistant reported, "Adrian Prescott has taken charge of all major projects, while Maxwell Donovan handles the smaller ones. Ms. Carter has been completely absorbed with the fashion show preparations."

A pause. Then—

"Initial reports indicate the show has already generated millions in revenue. After tomorrow's event, projections suggest at least a fivefold increase in the apparel division's earnings."

Julian's knuckles turned white around his pen.

Compared to previous fiscal years, this performance was unprecedented. If this momentum continued...

Evelyn might actually win their bet.

And if she did?

He'd be the one packing his office.

A slow, calculating smile spread across Julian's face as he drummed his fingers against the mahogany desk. "The show's tomorrow, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

Julian's smile turned predatory. "A fivefold increase isn't so easily achieved. Tell me... what would happen if there were... complications during the event?"

His assistant paled. "The financial losses would be substantial. We're talking tens of millions, easily."

Julian chuckled darkly. "Tens of millions ought to teach her some humility. That girl still has much to learn about playing in the big leagues."

With a sharp gesture, he beckoned his assistant closer.

The whispered orders that followed made the younger man's hands tremble. "It will be handled discreetly, Mr. Hawthorne. No traces leading back to you."

Julian's eyes turned to ice. "See that it stays that way. One slip, and you'll find yourself unemployed—or worse."

As his assistant scurried away, Julian leaned back, satisfaction curling through him.

"Evelyn Carter," he murmured to the empty office. "Time for your first real lesson."