Chapter 315

Madeline Kingsley sat in the corner of the banquet hall, surrounded by a flock of socialites. A benevolent smile graced her lips, but shrewdness lurked in her eyes.

"Grandmother, you must come to my birthday party next month." Chloe Cui clung to the elderly woman's arm affectionately. "My parents will be overjoyed."

The old lady patted her hand. "This old bones might just be in your way."

"Never!" The other debutantes chimed in immediately. "Having you there would be our honor."

"If you're attending Chloe's, you must visit my home too."

"Yes, Grandmother mustn't play favorites."

Eleanor Kingsley observed the spectacle from a distance, her expression icy. These girls' intentions were transparent—they might as well have "I want to marry into the Kingsleys" stamped on their foreheads.

Her gaze shifted to Evelyn Sinclair standing quietly nearby, and a playful smile curved her lips.

"Miss Sinclair, are you married?" Eleanor's sudden question cut through the chatter.

Evelyn smiled faintly. "Yes, I am."

"Oh?" Eleanor feigned surprise. "Which fortunate gentleman won your heart?"

"Just an ordinary man." Evelyn's tone remained neutral.

Eleanor shook her head dramatically. "I refuse to believe that. A woman like you settling for mediocrity?"

The surrounding socialites fell silent, their stares piercing Evelyn.

"Truly, he's just an average person." Evelyn shrugged helplessly. "What's done is done."

"Divorce him." Eleanor's suggestion carried a teasing edge. "Does he treat you well?"

Evelyn sighed. "Neither exceptionally well nor poorly."

"What kind of answer is that?" Madeline interjected sharply. "Good is good. Bad is bad."

Ignoring the matriarch, Eleanor continued baiting Evelyn. "In that case, why not divorce him and marry into our family instead?"

The words detonated like a bomb.

The debutantes' faces paled. Even as a jest, such words from Eleanor carried weight.

Molly Mo couldn't resist a snide remark. "Even if Miss Sinclair divorces, she's carrying someone else's child. Who would marry her?"

"You're pregnant?" Eleanor pretended shock.

Evelyn nodded resignedly. "Three or four months along."

"Tsk tsk," a socialite muttered. "So far along and the father's identity remains mysterious."

"Rumor has it some tycoon pursued her—trading resources for the baby?"

"Could the father and husband be different men?"

Eleanor's lips curled coldly. "Even better. Miss Sinclair can bring the child into our family. My unfilial son has no intention of marrying properly anyway."

"Outrageous!" Madeline shot to her feet, livid. "How dare you spout such nonsense?"

Eleanor froze. The old woman's reaction seemed disproportionate to a harmless joke.

"Mother, I was merely jesting—"

"With me. Now." The matriarch's command brooked no argument.

Eleanor gave Evelyn's hand a reassuring pat before following Madeline to a secluded corner.

The moment they were alone, Madeline hissed, "Have you lost your mind? Making such remarks in public!"

"It was just a joke—"

"Jokes require discretion!" Madeline's voice trembled with suppressed fury. "Have you considered how this reflects on the Kingsley name?"

Only then did Eleanor grasp the gravity. The matriarch's reaction hinted at deeper implications...