Chapter 361
No.1
"Mr. Holt," she met his leering gaze, "maintain professional distance."
His eyes locked onto her flushed cheeks like he'd discovered treasure.
The room was stifling, yet this woman's stare remained icy.
"Aren't you hot, Miss Sinclair?" He deliberately leaned closer. "Want to... relocate?"
Before she could react, he suddenly bent to grab her.
"Ah!"
A scream echoed through the suite.
No.2
By the time Ryan collapsed to his knees, his forehead already bore a dark bruise.
His assistant barely opened the door before a flying phone smashed into his face.
"Stop her!" Ryan roared, clutching his arm.
When the entourage rushed in, the hallway stood empty.
"Isabella..." Ryan's trembling fingers dialed. "There's been a... complication..."
"Useless!" Isabella Winslow's shriek nearly shattered his eardrum. "Do you know how hard I worked to convince Alexander to catch her in the act?"
The call ended with a violent click.
No.3
Ryan slumped onto the sofa, cold sweat beading on his forehead.
......
Inside the black Maybach, Alexander's knuckles whitened around an anonymous letter.
"Trading your body for an interview?" His冷笑 dripped with contempt. "How impressive, Evelyn."
Ethan Miller shrank in his seat, not daring to breathe.
Suddenly, his eyes widened. "Sir! It's Miss Sinclair!"
Near the hotel's revolving doors, the staggering figure could only be Evelyn.
No.4
Her cheeks burned crimson, steps unsteady—yet she death-gripped a recorder.
Alexander's gaze darkened.
This was the Evelyn his mother called "poorly raised"?
Spoiled rotten enough to abandon all principles?
Evelyn Sinclair's steps were quick yet steady. Only she knew the fire raging inside her was threatening to consume all reason.
Her fingers tightened around the stun ring on her wrist, its metal surface still warm to the touch.
When Ryan Holt tried to embrace her, she'd struck without hesitation.
No.5
The electric current hit his forehead with precision, filling the air with the acrid scent of burning flesh.
His screams echoed through the confined space.
This pretty-faced celebrity wouldn't dare show his face on camera for at least two weeks.
Seven years at Royal Gardens hadn't turned Evelyn into some fragile hothouse flower.
Losing her parents' protection had forced her to sharpen her claws in the shadows long ago.
She'd come prepared for this interview.
From Ryan's financial backers to Summer Sky Entertainment's gamble, no detail escaped her notice.
No.6
Isabella Winslow's trap was cleverly laid, but she'd underestimated her prey's vigilance.
The moment Evelyn spotted that white patch near the air vent, everything became clear.
The abnormal temperature settings on the control panel only confirmed her suspicions.
Ryan was merely a puppet—with the Winslows pulling his strings.
Sunlight stabbed at Evelyn's eyes as she stumbled into the street.
She staggered into the shadow behind an office building, letting the fountain's mist cool her fevered skin.
The antidote she'd taken earlier preserved her sanity, but couldn't suppress her body's reactions.
No.7
As she leaned against the cold brick wall gasping, a shadow fell over her.
Alexander Kingsley stood before her, his arrival silent as a panther's.
Evelyn's pupils contracted before she curled her lips in a mocking smile. "Did Isabella send you to inspect her handiwork?"
She knew this script by heart.
Isabella wanted Alexander to witness her "betrayal" firsthand—to sever their last remaining ties.
Alexander didn't answer.
His hand closed around her wrist with bone-crushing force.