Chapter 312

The ballroom lights seemed to converge on her alone.

Evelyn Sinclair entered in stilettos, and the air momentarily stilled.

"Whose daughter is that?" someone whispered.

"That dress..." A socialite tightened her grip on her champagne flute. "I tried it on and looked like a walking purple lantern."

Yet the violet sequined gown draped Evelyn's figure like it was custom-made. Not a single crease out of place, every seam sculpting her elegant curves to perfection.

"I remember now!" a guest gasped. "She's that journalist!"

Madam Zade rushed forward, eyes glistening. "Miss Sinclair!"

Vincent Sullivan practically sprinted over. "Evelyn!"

All eyes locked onto Evelyn. The hosts of tonight's gala were fawning over this young woman.

"Miss Sinclair helped reunite us with our son," Madam Zade said tearfully.

The Sullivan matriarch stood unusually quiet nearby. Since her grandson's return, she'd lost all energy for bickering—her mind consumed with settling scores with the Lees.

"If not for Miss Sinclair that day..." Madam Zade recounted how Evelyn had rescued Vincent.

Several ladies dabbed their eyes with tissues.

"Miss Sinclair is quite renowned in journalism," someone remarked meaningfully.

Knowing glances were exchanged. Everyone knew her most famous feat—suing Alexander Kingsley and winning.

"Truly a woman who rivals men," a guest praised, offering a business card. "I'd love to collaborate."

...

"How attention-seeking," Mrs. Ashford sniffed. "One would think the Sullivans are welcoming their daughter-in-law."

Julian Ashford's gaze never left Evelyn. His brow furrowed at his mother's words.

"Julian, ignore her," Mrs. Ashford tugged his sleeve, gesturing to the girl beside her. "Clarisse canceled her family's banquet just to see you."

Clarisse Choi smiled sweetly, though her eyes darkened.

She'd done her research on Julian. Behind this aloof man's demeanor, she knew exactly who occupied his heart.

When she saw how Julian looked at Evelyn, Clarisse's nails dug into her palm. The obsession in his eyes chilled her.

"Excuse me," Julian turned away.

Mrs. Ashford hurried to reassure Clarisse. "I'll bring him back."

Once alone, Clarisse picked up her glass and approached Evelyn with her friend in tow.

"Miss Sinclair," she chirped innocently. "I've heard so much about you."

Her friend played along. "Oh? Like what?"

"Miss Sinclair is a legend in journalism," Clarisse trilled. "Not only did she win against Lord Alex..."

She paused deliberately, letting ears perk up around them.

"She kept working through her pregnancy," she blinked. "Though I wonder—who's the father?"

The ballroom fell so silent you could hear a pin drop.