Chapter 200

Evelyn Bennett tapped her crystal glass with manicured fingertips, watching the orange juice swirl gently. She lifted her gaze, calmly surveying the pair before her—her former fiancé and stepsister.

Lucien Valmont's breathing hitched. After twenty years, she was more radiant than he remembered. The stubborn girl had blossomed into a woman of effortless elegance, though those clear eyes still made his heart stutter.

"Yes?" Evelyn's crimson lips parted, her voice glacial.

Vera Whitmore spoke first. "Evelyn, where have you been all these years? Father's been worried sick."

"Worried?" Evelyn chuckled mirthlessly. "Worried I didn't die properly, you mean?"

Nearby guests turned at the barbed remark.

Vera's face tightened. "How could you say that? We're family."

"Family?" Evelyn swirled her drink. "Was that what you were thinking when you climbed into my fiancé's bed?"

Lucien interjected hastily, "Evelyn, that was all a misunderstanding—"

"Misunderstanding?" Her eyebrow arched. "Shall I refresh your memory about how I caught you in flagrante?"

The ballroom fell silent.

Vera's nails dug into her palms. She loathed Evelyn's imperious demeanor.

"Let bygones be bygones," Lucien said with affected tenderness. "Perhaps we could meet privately?"

Evelyn scoffed. "To discuss what? Your inability to keep it in your pants?"

She rose, stilettoes clicking sharply against marble.

"Twenty years, Lucien, and you're still revolting."

His face darkened at the public humiliation.

Vera's eyes welled with crocodile tears. "Evelyn, Father truly misses you—"

"Misses me?" Evelyn's smile turned arctic. "Or misses my kidneys? I heard the old man's in renal failure."

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Vera trembled—how did she know?

"Leave," Evelyn turned away. "You're embarrassing yourselves."

"Wait!" Vera snapped, mask slipping. "You think this is twenty years ago? Without the Whitmore name, you're nothing in the capital!"

Evelyn glanced back, lips curling. "Is that so?"

A cool feminine voice cut through the tension. "Mother, you're late. Uncle Marcus's been waiting."

Aria Bennett linked arms with Evelyn, eyeing the pair. "And these people are...?"

"Nobody important." Evelyn patted her daughter's hand affectionately.

Vera's pupils constricted. Uncle Marcus? Not...that Sterling family?

Lucien blanched, finally noticing the jade bracelet on Evelyn's wrist—the same one that broke auction records this year.

"Let's go." Aria cast them a dismissive look. "Some people just enjoy self-inflicted humiliation."

Arm in arm, mother and daughter departed, leaving a seething Vera and shell-shocked Lucien in their wake.

The ballroom buzzed with whispers.

Vera glared daggers at Evelyn's retreating figure, venom in her gaze.

Why did this bitch have to come back?