Chapter 147

"Is that accurate?" Nathan Blackwood's expression turned severe as he leaned forward in his chair.

Oliver Sinclair swallowed hard before responding. "Mr. Blackwood, I spoke with Isabella Laurent's agent yesterday. She mentioned that Evelyn Carter from Monarch Grand Hotels had already reached out before us."

His voice grew quieter as Nathan's face darkened with each word.

"What else did the agent say?" Nathan's tone was dangerously calm.

Oliver hesitated. "She acknowledged our hotel's reputation, but Monarch Grand has been gaining traction recently. Isabella Laurent wants both parties to submit proposals—she'll choose whichever offer is more favorable."

Nathan's fist struck the desk with a sharp thud. His pulse roared in his ears.

Evelyn Carter was already a thorn in his side. Now she had the audacity to compete with him for this deal. These women were determined to be his downfall.

"Call an emergency meeting with senior management first thing tomorrow," Nathan commanded. "We need an unbeatable proposal—fast. If this contract goes to Evelyn Carter, consider everyone involved in this project unemployed."

Oliver nodded frantically, his neck bobbing like a nervous pigeon.

Clearly, Nathan hadn't forgotten how Evelyn had forced him to climb ten flights of stairs to her office that day. This was personal.

Later that afternoon, Nathan's Maybach rolled to a stop outside an elegant six-story European mansion in Crestview's affluent North District.

"You said we were meeting the designer," Nathan remarked, eyeing the rose-adorned wrought-iron gate skeptically.

Victoria Sterling beamed. "We are. This is the private atelier of Rosalind Walker—the legendary couturier behind Rosalind Couture."

Her eyes sparkled with excitement. Though Rosalind's ready-to-wear line sold worldwide, Victoria insisted only custom pieces would suffice for their wedding.

Victoria had transformed herself for the occasion—her dark hair now a honeyed blonde, styled in loose waves. Her crimson backless dress clung to her curves, and her lips matched the bold shade perfectly.

The vibrant red made Nathan's mind flicker to Evelyn. No one wore that color like she did. On anyone else, it looked like a cheap imitation.

"It's just fabric," Nathan muttered, unimpressed. "Have her design your dress. I don't need a custom suit."

Victoria pouted, pressing against him. "I want us to match. From now on, I'll choose all your clothes—no more gifts from other women, understood?"

Nathan's jaw tightened. He remembered the suit Evelyn had tailored for him—how he'd painstakingly tried to restore it after it was ruined. And how she'd watched indifferently as others discarded it like trash.

"Fine," he ground out. "I won't."

At the gate, security stopped them. "Private event today. Invitation only."

Victoria produced two rose-embossed cards with a haughty smirk. "Obviously."

Inside, champagne flutes clinked amidst well-dressed guests. Nathan stiffened—Victoria had sprung this social gathering on him without warning. No wonder she'd dressed to impress.

He hated being used as her accessory.

The moment they entered, whispers erupted.

"Is that Nathan Blackwood?"

"Even more striking in person! Cameras don't do him justice."

"Who's the woman with him? She's stunning."

"Don't you know? That's Victoria Sterling—his fiancée. He divorced his wife for her. Quite the upgrade, wouldn't you say?"

Victoria preened under the attention. Let them gossip. Every envious glance only proved she'd won the ultimate prize.