Chapter 337

Evelyn's fingers tightened around the phone.

[No, it's not him.]

Seraphina's reply came swiftly. [Fascinating! That means someone orchestrated this entire charade to mislead anyone who witnessed it. I'd bet my fortune Amelia's behind this.]

Evelyn had the same gut feeling. It wasn’t that she distrusted Nathaniel’s explanation or his investigative skills. But the odds of such a coincidence were astronomical.

Amelia just happened to return the same day Nathaniel arranged an ocean of tulips? And on that very day, some stranger staged a grand public confession at the Century Bank Tower—for a woman whose name also started with "Am"?

Worse, the confession didn’t even include the full name. Just "Am."

Who in their right mind would assume it was meant for them? It could be Amelia, Amanda, Amber, Amara—anyone. And no sane person would see a vague two-letter display and think, That’s definitely for me.

If someone went to such extravagant lengths to profess love, they’d want the world to know exactly who they were declaring it for. Omitting the name? That reeked of manipulation.

Nathaniel had stopped digging once he confirmed the confession was for a Charlotte Bennett. Understandable—Amelia had saved his life. Of course he wouldn’t suspect her.

But Evelyn wasn’t blinded by sentiment.

She’d formed her own opinion of Amelia in the short time they’d interacted. Beneath that sweet, demure facade lurked something far more calculating.

And every incident since Amelia’s return? Too convenient. Too targeted. If Evelyn was right, the real Amelia was a viper in saint’s clothing—one she’d need to watch closely.

Her thoughts shattered when the phone vibrated. The screen flashed: Grandpa.

For a split second, she froze. She didn’t have a grandfather. Then it hit her—this was Nathaniel’s phone. His grandfather was calling.

Her stomach knotted. She couldn’t answer. The man didn’t know her.

She bolted toward Nathaniel’s study, but her thumb slipped—brushing the answer icon.

The call connected.

A gravelly voice roared through the speaker.

"Nathaniel, you worthless brat! What kind of trash have you dragged into this house? Aren’t you a grown man? Consorting with a scheming, two-faced harlot? Trying to send me to an early grave, is that it?"

Evelyn’s mouth went dry.

That "trash"?

Undoubtedly her.