10

Evelyn’s POV

The grand ballroom of the Blackwood Hotel felt like one of those rooms in heaven told in biblical stories. Every inch of surface starting from the chandeliers dripping with crystal and hanging to the carved ceiling to the polished oakwood floor reflected the blinding flash of cameras and the sheer display of wealth by the influential people in the room. I wore a dress that cost more than my first car, Damien had gotten it for me on our last trip to Paris. A sleek, emerald floor-length dress that shimmered in the light and was supposed to make me look like a successful businesswoman, not a sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter.

Zeke Blackwood, in his black tuxedo, looked like he owned the place, which, in a way, he did. He stood nearly a foot taller than nearly everyone in the room and he practically owned the company that he was fighting to keep. 

I was fortunate to know his return from Sicily on my last day in the hotel room and that was the sole reason I was here, to speak with him. 

He stood beside me, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, a gesture that looked harmless to the crowd but felt like a vice to me. In an alternate universe, I was supposed to be here with my husband celebrating the launch of the Blackwood Foundation’s latest cancer research fundraiser, but all I felt was dread. The situation between Damien and me was starting to escalate and now that Zeke had returned—the corporate takeover, the legal maneuvers—was starting to look like a car crash in slow motion, and I had the horrible feeling Zeke was about to step on the gas.

“It’s a rather beautiful night, isn’t it, Evelyn?” Zeke murmured, leaning down so his breath tingled against my ear. His voice was deep, smooth, and dangerously charming. 

I put a smile on my face as I heard the click of a camera nearby. 

“You Blackwoods have always known how to throw a party, Zeke. But everyone in here is faking it as usual.”

Zeke laughed, a genuinely deep laughter. “Nothing has changed with you, Evelyn. You’re still a critic. Are you saying this because of the recent developments?” 

“I spent most of my days planning these kinds of projects, Zeke. I know what I’m talking about.” I spoke harshly under my breath. 

His smile didn’t falter, but I saw a flicker of something cold in his blue eyes. A warning. He tightened his grip momentarily before smoothly transitioning to a gesture of affection, touching my arm. He was being performative for the cameras, news of my divorce was still private. 

The evening went by in a blur, I was tired of forcing strained smiles on my face and engaging in polite, meaningless conversations with financiers and socialites who still regarded me as Mrs. Blackwood. 

Finally, the moment arrived. Zeke moved to the center stage. The lights dimmed, focusing a spotlight on him as he tapped the microphone. The room instantly fell silent and everyone’s eyes made their way to where he stood with a small smile on his face, eager to hear his speech. 

“Good evening, Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for your extraordinary generosity tonight, the Blackwood family is forever in your debt.” He began, his voice amplified, filling every corner of the vast room. 

He spoke about the future of the charity for a few minutes and the plans to expand in other areas in the next six months—it was nothing out of the ordinary—but I felt my heartbeat accelerate when he smoothly pivoted.

“Well, enough about charities and fundraisers for a minute, tonight isn’t just about that,” He said, his eyes scanning the crowd and then they settled on mine. “Tonight is about my future and that of the Blackwood family.”

There was murmuring amongst the audience. They were confused about what was going on while I stood in a spot, petrified and clutching my untouched glass of champagne with so much force that I feared it would crack underneath my grip. 

What the hell was he doing?

He stretched his hand towards me, beckoning me to where he stood. 

“Evelyn, join me, darling.” 

There was a collective gasp that rippled through the crowd. 

This wasn’t the plan. My legs stood rooted in the ground, pinning me in place as everyone’s eyes settled on me. I shook my head at him, hoping he would take the hint. I was married to Damien Blackwood, his brother, everyone knew that. 

But men like Zeke Blackwood ignored hints or they didn’t just care. He sauntered down the steps and walked towards me, radiating power and confidence. The cameras followed his every move.

He got to where I was and took my hand, pulling me slowly towards the stage and my legs followed him without question. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic, trapped bird.

I could feel Damien’s cold eyes on me but I didn’t dare look his way. He was standing with Genevieve next to him and they were both seething while everyone else was perplexed by what was happening. 

“I’m sure everyone here knows who Evelyn Banner is so she doesn’t need any introduction,” Zeke said, addressing the crowd but his eyes were on me, they were filled with delight and sheer excitement. 

“You know her as a formidable businesswoman and one of the pioneers of everything you see on display here today. Also, you might have known her as Mrs. Blackwood, who was married to my brother, Damien Blackwood, but they’re divorced now and I’ve taken it upon myself to do right by her.”

He paused for dramatic effect and boy did he get one. The silence in the room was instantly followed by chattering and absolute chaos. The room was thrown into a frenzy and everyone was speaking at the same time, the press hadn’t stopped clicking their cameras. 

The color on my face had drained, and my throat felt dry. I gulped hard and searched his face for any hint of a joke, something to signal that this was just some awful stunt but Zeke had his business face on.