Chapter 29
So the squeaky wheel really does get the grease.
Evelyn Sinclair finally understood this truth today.
Had she known earlier, she would've cast aside all restraint—making small scenes every three days and big ones every five, turning the Kingsley household upside down.
At least then she might have seen him more often.
What did it matter if he already despised her?
What had all her caution gained her over the years?
...
But it was too late for regrets now.
She no longer needed any of it...
The Maybach's windows were black as ink, like Alexander Kingsley's perpetually inscrutable eyes.
The stubbornness in the Sinclair bloodline had sealed their fate thirteen years ago.
Evelyn's lips curled in self-mockery.
The only thing she'd ever given up halfway in her life was her feelings for Alexander.
Once was enough.
Life offered no second chances.
While Ethan Miller still hesitated anxiously, Evelyn had already walked past him without looking back.
"Ms. Sinclair—" Ethan didn't dare stop her again.
The Maybach suddenly roared to life, cutting sharply across Evelyn's path.
"Get in."
Alexander's voice came through clearly.
Evelyn's lashes trembled slightly, but her gaze remained fixed ahead.
Now it was her turn to ignore him.
"Stop her."
At Alexander's icy command, the Maybach lurched onto the sidewalk, blocking Evelyn like an impenetrable wall.
The door slowly opened.
"Get in," Alexander repeated.
Evelyn had no choice but to look inside.
His chiseled profile appeared slightly pale, thin lips pressed tightly together.
She'd been mistaken...
Alexander still couldn't even grant her the courtesy of eye contact.
"Say what you need to say here," Evelyn replied calmly, knowing escape was impossible.
Her gaze met his evenly.
"Resign. Retract the article. Apologize—" He turned fully toward her, his haggard features no less striking, "—to Isabella Winslow."
Evelyn bit her lower lip.
So all this pursuit had been for Isabella's sake.
To spare his beloved any discomfort...
To ensure no third-party blemishes tainted their love story.
Evelyn suddenly laughed.
"I thought Nathan made our position quite clear."
"I'll resign, but the article stays." Her tone brooked no argument. "As for an apology—"
"Whether I've spread lies, Lord Alex knows the truth."
Alexander's jaw clenched audibly.
"Evelyn, this is your last chance—"
"When have you ever given me chances?" Evelyn interrupted, eyes flashing with derision. "Spare me the false generosity."
A glacial chill entered Alexander's gaze.
Evelyn had already lowered her head. "I won't waste any more of your time."
She turned and strode quickly away, disappearing down a one-way street.
This time, Alexander didn't follow.
Perhaps because of the traffic laws.
Or perhaps because she was no longer worth the effort.
Evelyn exhaled deeply.
She was far too busy now for these games.
She almost understood Alexander's perpetual impatience with her.
She'd had too much free time before...
Enough to fixate entirely on one man.
And in the end, she'd only cheapened herself.
...
Her interview with Ryan Holt was scheduled for three days later.
Coincidentally, he'd be in Kingsbury for a commercial shoot—his team had miraculously carved out three hours.
When the news spread, her colleagues' stares grew frostier.
Ryan was notorious for his packed schedule, planned down to the minute.
There was only one explanation for Evelyn securing three hours: nepotism.
"The Crown Prince really dotes on her."
"Too much favor can backfire..."
"Let's see how this plays out."
Evelyn heard every word.
She didn't care.
After thirteen years beside Alexander Kingsley, what insult hadn't she endured?
If the person who mattered most couldn't hurt her, why would strangers?
Arriving at Ryan's hotel after his shoot, his assistant made her wait thirty minutes before granting entry.
Upon entering, his manager produced a sealed bag.
"All electronic devices, please."
Evelyn blinked.
"That wasn't part of our agreement." What journalist didn't use recording devices?
Ryan's previous interview refusals had cited time constraints, not diva behavior.
"Our oversight," the manager smiled apologetically. "Ryan gets nervous around recording equipment—mild social anxiety."
It made sense. Ryan was famously reticent in public, which fans praised as authenticity.
"Fine, I'll take handwritten notes." Evelyn surrendered her devices.
The manager handed back the bag. "Just place it aside."
Entering the inner suite, an assistant scanned her with a metal detector.
"Apologies—paparazzi tactics keep evolving." The assistant offered an ingratiating smile.
Evelyn nodded understandingly.
She was led to the suite's sitting area, where the assistant poured water before exiting.
Evelyn arranged her notepad. Without recordings it would be challenging, but her shorthand skills remained sharp.
The room was silent save for pen scratches.
Minutes ticked by with no sign of Ryan.
Sunlight streamed through the windows, raising the temperature steadily.
The sealed room felt like a greenhouse.
Evelyn wiped her forehead, glancing at the AC vent.
Odd—cold air was clearly flowing.
"Could we adjust the—" She turned to find herself alone.
The door was shut, the assistant gone.
...
Every nerve in Evelyn's body went on high alert.
She approached the thermostat.
23°C.
It shouldn't be this hot—either the AC was broken, or...
"See something interesting?"
A male voice whispered directly in her ear.
...
Evelyn's entire body erupted in goosebumps.