Chapter 283

The morning sun cast golden rays through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Evelyn's office, illuminating the blueprints spread across her desk. Her fingers traced the intricate lines of the latest project—a luxury resort in the Maldives. The design was ambitious, but she thrived on challenges.

A soft knock interrupted her thoughts. Gabrielle, her assistant, peeked in. "Ms. Mitchell, Mr. Wilson is here to see you."

Evelyn straightened, smoothing the fabric of her tailored blazer. "Send him in."

Gregory Wilson strode in, his usual confident demeanor slightly off. His tie was loosened, and there was a tension in his jaw she hadn’t seen before.

"You look like you’ve had better mornings," she remarked, gesturing for him to sit.

Gregory exhaled sharply, dropping into the chair opposite her. "We have a problem. The investors for the Maldives project are pulling out."

Evelyn’s stomach dropped. "What? Why?"

"Rumors," he muttered, rubbing his temples. "Someone’s been whispering that our designs aren’t structurally sound. That we cut corners."

Her fingers curled into fists. "That’s absurd. Who would—"

Then it hit her.

Isabella Davis.

Nathaniel’s ex had been unusually quiet since their last confrontation, but Evelyn knew better than to assume she’d given up. Isabella had connections, resources, and a vindictive streak a mile wide.

Evelyn stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the hardwood floor. "I need to talk to Nathaniel."

Gregory frowned. "You think he’s involved?"

"No," she said firmly. "But he might know how to stop this before it escalates."

Her phone buzzed before she could leave. A message from an unknown number lit up the screen:

"Did you really think you could win?"

Evelyn’s breath caught.

The game had just begun.

Though Evelyn was preparing for the competition herself, she intended to select three top talents from the company as her assistants. If fortune favored her and she secured a spot in the top three, her team would share the spotlight.

Her conditions were straightforward. "There's still time before the competition begins. If you wish to contend for a place as my assistant, you must submit a complete architectural design within ten days. Mr. Wilson and I will evaluate them professionally. To ensure fairness, I've also invited the renowned designer Seraphina to join us via video call for the final selection."

Who was Seraphina?

In the design world, one might not recognize Nathaniel of the Martin Group, but Seraphina was a name no one could ignore.

Her creations were hailed as masterpieces, rivaling the most celebrated works in the industry. Yet she remained an enigma—her face unseen, her identity shrouded in mystery. Some whispered she disguised herself as a woman; others claimed she was too hideous to show her face.

But none could deny her brilliance.

Her portfolio spanned fashion, jewelry, and beyond.

Evelyn's announcement electrified the office. Such an opportunity was unheard of elsewhere. Here, everyone stood on equal footing, each with a chance to prove themselves.

After the meeting, Evelyn retreated to her office. No sooner had she settled into her chair than Gabrielle knocked. "Ms. Mitchell, your sister is here."

Evelyn stiffened, the word foreign on her tongue. "Sister? You must be mistaken. I don’t have one."

The concept felt alien, so she dismissed it without hesitation.

Gabrielle hesitated before gently reminding her, "Ms. Mitchell… the Mitchell family—"

Evelyn’s gaze sharpened. "Where is she?"

Gabrielle nodded. Sophia Mitchell stood just behind her. She stepped aside, allowing Sophia to enter before quietly closing the door.

Evelyn studied her without a trace of warmth. "Why are you here? Is there a problem?"

Sophia stared back, conflicted. The news of Evelyn’s pregnancy had shaken her. Yet, bound by family duty, she had come.

The thought of Evelyn carrying a child unsettled her deeply.

Her prolonged silence prompted Evelyn to arch a brow. "Did you come just to stare at me in silence?"

Finally, Sophia spoke. "Evelyn, you know why I’m here."

"Do I?"

"Must you be so cold? Have you no heart at all?" Sophia’s voice trembled with emotion.

Evelyn’s lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "As my sister, shouldn’t you know best whether I have a heart? If you were in my place, what would you do?"

As a child, she had envied Sophia—achingly, relentlessly. Later, exiled to Beatrice’s care, she had been grateful. Had she stayed, the Mitchells would have twisted her into something dark. Something cruel.

Something like the woman standing before her now.