Chapter 42

Evelyn Sinclair stormed into Kingsley Group's headquarters.

Isabella Winslow sat leisurely sipping coffee in the reception room.

Nathan Carter stood nearby, his gaze shifting uneasily between the two women.

"The Butterfly Brooch?" Alexander Kingsley tapped the desk with his slender fingers. "Who do you think is lying?"

Evelyn clenched her fists, fury burning in her eyes. Isabella wore an innocent expression, tear stains still visible at the corners of her eyes.

"Hard to say," Nathan answered cautiously. "Miss Sinclair appears genuinely angry, while Miss Winslow seems truly wronged."

Alexander suddenly produced a multicolored dragonfly brooch from his pocket. "Both are my possessions. Why does she only care about one?"

Beads of sweat formed on Nathan's forehead.

This question was too dangerous.

She treasured it before because she loved him. Now she scorns it because that love is gone.

But he didn't dare say that aloud.

"Perhaps... that brooch holds special meaning for her?" Nathan ventured. "Like how some people only wear one particular scent."

Alexander nodded thoughtfully.

Nathan exhaled quietly in relief.

Alexander leaned back in the car seat, a faint smile playing on his lips.

He remembered.

That year Evelyn turned sixteen. She'd secretly torn a page from an auction catalog. Seeing her disappointment, he'd gone to great lengths to acquire that butterfly brooch.

When she accepted it, her eyes had sparkled like stars.

He'd given her countless jewels since, but never saw that same radiance again.

"Research this brooch's history," Alexander sent Nathan the photo. "Find out who else in the country owns one."

Inside the KTV private room, Evelyn found herself surrounded by colleagues.

"Latecomers must drink!" they chanted.

Three shots of strong liquor sat before her. Evelyn waved her hands in refusal. "I really can't drink..."

She recalled Mrs. Kingsley's warnings and Alexander's words.

"The first time matters most," someone urged. "You'll need to socialize for future news assignments."

As Evelyn hesitated, a pair of masculine hands suddenly lifted the glasses.

Julian Ashford threw back his head and drained all three shots in quick succession.

The room fell silent.

He scanned the crowd with an impassive expression. "How many more penalties?"

No one dared respond.

"We're in the next room." Julian gave Evelyn a nod before leaving.

The colleagues exchanged glances, their gazes toward Evelyn growing complicated.

Evelyn stood at the restroom sink, washing her hands.

"Junior," Simon York sidled closer. "How did you dig up those scandals on Ryan Holt?"

Evelyn worked the soap into lather, smiling without answering.

Her reflection showed exquisite features. Simon quickly averted his eyes. "So... do you have more dirt on him?"