Chapter 317

"Evelyn, give Melissa a way out." Hugo Lee pulled her aside and cut straight to the chase.

"Impossible." Her reply was absolute.

His jaw tightened. "Must you be so heartless?"

Melissa Lee's case had hit a deadlock, and Hugo was already drowning in the scandal of the fake heir at the company. He just wanted to resolve one crisis at a time—even if it meant swallowing his pride before Evelyn.

How could his precious daughter face prison?

"What more do you want?" He blocked her path. "I publicly sided with you, Evelyn. Don’t push this too far!"

"Mr. Lee," she shook off his grip, "your daughter should’ve heeded that advice. Had she left any room for mercy, she wouldn’t be in this position."

Did he seriously expect her to beg Winston to drop the charges? Delusional.

If Melissa had succeeded, Evelyn and Winston—along with their unborn child—would be dead. Three lives. And he had the audacity to make demands?

"Evelyn, don’t mistake my patience for weakness." His eyes turned vicious.

She smiled coldly. "You and your daughter share the same trait—imagining threats that don’t exist, then striking first."

"You—"

"Goodbye." She turned to leave.

"You’ll regret this!" His roar followed her.

Evelyn didn’t look back.

A sudden commotion erupted in the ballroom.

"Lord Alex is here!" someone gasped.

She froze. Alexander hadn’t mentioned attending. As she debated slipping away, Madam Zade hurried over.

"Miss Sinclair, Lord Alex specifically asked for you."

"Me?" She frowned. He could visit her anytime at home. Why here?

Madam Zade lowered her voice. "That foolish boy Roman confessed everything—how you helped him. Lord Alex didn’t look pleased. Be careful."

Evelyn glanced up and met Alexander’s gaze.

Mockery glinted in his eyes, the chill around him making onlookers tense.

"Lord Alex," Madam Zade introduced nervously, "this is—"

"We’ve met." His voice was ice.

Evelyn stood poised in her amethyst gown, luminous under the lights. Her serene composure made him seem like the intruder—a brute disturbing a goddess.

His gaze raked over her.

From her dark hair to the pearl-embellished hem, down to her delicate ankles. Too radiant.

The Evelyn in his memory always wore white—pure, untouchable. Only after she left did he realize she could blaze like this.

Now, everyone saw what was once his alone.

He wanted to hide her away.

"Miss Sinclair. Long time no see." He broke the silence first.

She nearly laughed. They’d shared dinner two nights ago.

"An eternity," she replied flatly.

"I hear your career thrives," he drawled, "and you’ve become the Sullivan family’s savior? Their heir owes his homecoming to you."

The Sullivans paled.

Evelyn recognized his anger. That day, feverish and bedridden, he’d watched her rush off for Roman’s call.