Chapter 61

After drying her hands, Evelyn returned to the living room and settled onto the sofa, taking a slow sip of water.

Her gaze drifted toward the tablet resting on the side table. After a brief hesitation, she picked it up and powered it on.

The Twitter interface loaded, and she pressed her knuckles to her lips, scanning the breaking news with narrowed eyes. She didn’t need to read much—given her connection to Alexander, she already knew the gist. The headlines were undoubtedly about her, Dominic, and Vanessa back in their college days.

The tweets were twisted, fragments of truth stretched into outright lies.

But what intrigued her more was the source. It wasn’t Dominic or Vanessa fueling the fire. Instead, it was a third party—some so-called "mutual friends" or former classmates who had suddenly found their voices.

At first, irritation prickled under her skin. But as she scrolled further, amusement replaced anger. The names were vaguely familiar, faces she could barely recall.

Evelyn had never been one for excessive socializing. Between endless experiments and data collection, she hadn’t wasted time on meaningless connections. Yet these strangers spoke as if they knew her intimately.

They painted Vanessa and Dominic as the perfect college sweethearts, destined for each other, while Evelyn was cast as the scheming interloper. According to them, she had weaseled her way into their relationship, and out of sheer kindness, they had tolerated her presence.

Even now, they claimed, Dominic had taken her in during her darkest days—only for her to repay him with betrayal, stealing company secrets and sabotaging Vanessa’s hard work.

The Ungrateful Woman, indeed.

Evelyn exhaled, shaking her head. The absurdity of it all was almost entertaining. She wasn’t the villain they described, and their fabricated drama held no weight.

"Dinner’s ready."

The rich aroma of food filled the air as Alexander emerged from the kitchen, setting a steaming bowl of soup on the table. He glanced at her, then turned back to fetch the rest.

She moved to help, but his sharp look stopped her. "Sit. Don’t touch anything."

Obediently, she took her seat, watching as he arranged everything with practiced ease. He even portioned her meal before her, his movements precise.

If anyone from Celestia Group saw him like this—domestic, attentive—they’d probably faint from shock. The formidable Alexander Kensington, reduced to a doting chef.

"Eat," he said, sliding the fork and spoon into her hands. After a pause, he retrieved the soup and placed it in front of her before finally sitting down.

"I’m not used to being spoiled like this," Evelyn mused, resting her chin on her palm.

Alexander arched a brow. "If you think this is spoiling, you’re in for a surprise."

Her pulse stuttered at the promise in his tone. This man was dangerously charming.

The spread before her was impressive—roasted vegetables, golden potatoes, the mac and cheese she’d made earlier, and the rich chicken noodle soup. Alexander nudged more greens onto her plate. "You’re too thin. Eat."

"I didn’t know you could cook," she admitted, savoring a bite. The flavors were vibrant, the presentation flawless. It rivaled any five-star restaurant.

Alexander merely smirked. "There’s a lot you don’t know about me."

And Evelyn found herself eager to learn every last detail.