Chapter 41

Victoria Blackwood comforted her daughter Cassandra. "Don't cry, darling. I'll fix this. Your reputation will be spotless again!"

Evelyn Whitmore stood nearby, arms crossed. A smirk played on her lips as she watched the mother-daughter duo unravel.

Cassandra's tears stopped instantly when she heard Evelyn's quiet chuckle. Her face twisted in rage as she pointed an accusing finger. "This is your doing, Evelyn! You set me up!"

Evelyn raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Me? A simple assistant couldn't possibly afford front-page headlines. Those cost a fortune."

Money hadn't been necessary—just certain specialized skills.

Cassandra glared. "Even if you didn't pay for the coverage, you made sure Dad saw it! You orchestrated this!"

Evelyn tilted her head. "Wasn't it you who demanded I come home today? Funny how that backfired."

Cassandra's mouth opened, then shut.

"Besides," Evelyn continued, "he would've found out eventually. Pro tip: if you don't want scandals, maybe don't create them."

Cassandra's face flushed crimson. She dissolved into angry sobs.

Victoria could no longer maintain her composed facade. "Enough! You're no saint yourself, Evelyn. Just a bastard playing the perfect daughter!"

Evelyn's smile turned icy. "I know exactly what kind of snakes you two are. And this?" She gestured to Cassandra's distress. "Karma's a beautiful thing."

Without another word, Evelyn turned toward the study. She had private matters to discuss with Gregory.

Victoria's nails dug into her palms as she watched Evelyn walk away. This little witch will pay for humiliating us.

Her attempts to remove Evelyn from the Whitmore estate had repeatedly failed. Though not extravagantly wealthy, the family owned substantial property holdings—enough to live comfortably off rental income indefinitely.

Victoria refused to let an illegitimate child claim any part of that inheritance.

Her original plan—marrying Evelyn off to sever her legal ties—had collapsed spectacularly. Every arranged meeting ended in disaster.

Now, with Evelyn growing bolder, Victoria needed a new strategy—fast.

Inside the study, Gregory Whitmore seethed until a knock interrupted his brooding. "Go away!" he snapped.

"Father? It's me." Evelyn's voice softened the edges of his anger.

"Come in, Evelyn."

The door opened quietly. Evelyn entered, carrying a carefully wrapped painting.