Chapter 1655
No.1
"Evelyn." Transformed, his eyes alight with purpose, he handed her an ornate box. "You must come tomorrow. Mother prepared this gown—see if you like it. The designer can make adjustments."
Evelyn teased, "'Mother' rolls off your tongue rather easily."
Roman scratched his head sheepishly. "Just conveying her exact words. I'm clueless about women's fashion."
When Evelyn lifted the lid and saw the snow-white fabric, she froze.
"You dislike it?" Roman tensed.
"No, it's beautiful." She managed a faint smile.
White... How long had it been?
No.2
That color had vanished from her world after leaving Alexander.
"Never mind." Roman repacked the gown. "There are blue and purple options. I'll have them sent over."
Madam Sullivan had provided multiple dresses. He'd chosen his favorite white one, only to misread her reaction.
Years of hardship had honed his ability to read subtle cues.
"I actually have suitable attire," Evelyn said without insistence.
She truly wished to avoid white, but wouldn't refuse genuine kindness.
True healing meant no longer deliberately avoiding reminders.
No.3
Roman worked swiftly. Soon, an array of gowns arrived.
Trying them in her office, Evelyn admired Madam Sullivan's impeccable taste. They'd met only twice, yet the woman had gauged her measurements perfectly.
Each gown boasted distinct styles, all flawlessly fitted.
She finally selected an amethyst chiffon dress with delicate sleeves and a skirt dusted with sequins that shimmered like starlight.
"Please thank Madam Sullivan for me." She returned the others.
The Sullivans' goodwill, so long as it remained appropriate, she would accept.
Her family's downfall had taught her—there was no virtue in unnecessary pride.
No.4
On the gala evening, the Sullivan car arrived punctually.
Autumn's chill had set in. Evelyn arrived at the venue wrapped in a lilac trench coat.
When she shed the outer layer, the attendant's eyes widened at the vision in violet.
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."
No.5
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.
No.6
"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."
No.7
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.