Chapter 109

The living room of Royal Gardens was thick with Alexander Kingsley's suffocating aura.

Ethan Miller stood before him, trembling.

"Lord Alex, we've confirmed everything. On the eleventh of last month..." He swallowed hard. "When they heard Miss Sinclair had been abandoned by you, they ambushed her on her usual path and hurled vile insults at her..."

Alexander's expression darkened instantly.

"Who spread the rumors?"

How had internal company affairs reached Royal Gardens so quickly?

"Mrs. Wilson." Ethan handed over enhanced surveillance footage. "They didn't avoid the cameras, but their voices were too faint..."

Alexander stared at the screen.

The maids' malicious voices were amplified:

"How dare she come crawling back after being dumped?"

"Pathetic leech..."

"Let's see how long she lasts..."

Evelyn Sinclair climbed the stairs with leaden steps, her face ghostly pale. Her eyes were hollow, like a walking corpse.

A sharp pain lanced through Alexander's chest.

He never imagined this was how she had returned that day.

What had he given her in her darkest hour?

A brutal possession. A cold bank card. And his blind defense of the housekeeper.

Now he understood why she had been so resolute.

Madam Kingsley's words—"Royal Gardens leaks like a sieve"—rang bitterly true.

Mrs. Wilson was dragged before Alexander.

She trembled violently but refused to name her accomplice.

"I lost my senses... Please spare me for the old madam's sake..."

Alexander sneered. "You dare invoke her?"

He turned to Ethan. "Audit her embezzlement over the years. Ensure she rots in prison."

Mrs. Wilson collapsed.

With The First Lady crew's cooperation, Evelyn's workload lightened considerably.

As she left Horizon Media's building, she spotted William West lurking outside like a viper.

Before she could evade him, a Maybach pulled up.

Ethan beamed. "Miss Sinclair, Lord Alex wishes to speak with you."

To his surprise, Evelyn didn't refuse.

When she entered the car, Alexander's tension eased slightly.

He offered an elegant box. "You've worked hard."

Evelyn recognized the patisserie he frequented.

"Your favorite flavor," he said.

She met his gaze. "You're mistaken. I don't like it."

Alexander froze.

"But you always—"

"Those were for you." Her voice was calm. "When you broke your leg years ago, this was the only cake you could stomach."

The memory surfaced—he'd mentioned the shop while feverish.

All this time, she'd been accommodating his preferences.

Evelyn pushed the box back. "No need anymore."

The air in the car turned glacial.

After a long silence, Alexander spoke quietly. "I know... about that day."