Chapter 151

Evelyn greeted a few guests before leading Rosalind to her private studio.

Their bond was as close as sisters. Without prying eyes around, they chatted freely, laughter filling the air.

Rosalind brought out her finest tea—a rare blend more precious than gold—served in delicate porcelain cups. Alongside it, she presented pastries crafted by the country's top pastry chefs, treats the guests downstairs wouldn’t even glimpse.

"Master, try this!"

Evelyn took a slow sip, savoring the rich, floral notes. "Exquisite. The aroma lingers beautifully."

Her poise was effortless, every movement radiating an elegance that couldn’t be taught.

Rosalind beamed. "I knew you'd love it!"

Normally reserved and distant, Rosalind transformed in Evelyn’s presence—bright-eyed, almost giddy.

Their friendship spanned six years.

Rosalind had been a prodigy in fashion design, her talent undeniable. But her rapid rise made her a target.

A reality show meant to showcase her skills turned into a nightmare. A famous actress humiliated her on air, while influential judges tore her work apart.

Then, Sharon—the legendary designer—spoke up.

She exposed the show’s manipulations, rallying others who’d suffered under those same critics. Overnight, Rosalind’s name was cleared, her brilliance undeniable.

"The more extraordinary you are, the more they’ll try to break you," Sharon had written. "But you, Ms. Walker, have a gift that leaves me in awe. Don’t stop."

Those words had been Rosalind’s lifeline.

Later, the judges issued hollow apologies. The actress? Her scandals erupted like fireworks, and within a year, she vanished from the industry.

"Master," Rosalind poured more tea, curiosity gleaming. "Why won’t you reveal you’re Sharon?"

Evelyn sighed playfully. "How many times must I answer this?"

"I just love pulling strings behind the scenes. The spotlight? Too noisy. I prefer my peace."

Rosalind huffed. "It’s such a waste! If that woman knew who you really were, she’d choke on her own arrogance."

Her teeth clenched. "How dare she sneer at you just because she’s Nathan Blackwood’s fiancée?"

Evelyn smirked. "She’s irrelevant."

A sip of tea. A moment of calm. That woman wasn’t worthy of knowing Sharon’s identity.

"But why argue with her at all?" Rosalind leaned in. "Do you have history? Need me to handle her?"

Evelyn’s fingers stilled. "No need. She’s Blackwood’s future wife."

"So what?" Rosalind grinned, sharp and sweet. "I’m your guard dog. I’ll bite anyone who messes with you."

The words tugged at Evelyn’s conscience.

Rosalind didn’t know everything—not her real name, not her past as Nathan’s ex-wife.

Sometimes, Evelyn felt like she lived multiple lives, each identity a separate world.

It was… complicated.

"Master," Rosalind held up a heart-shaped pastry, eyes hopeful. "Does your promise still stand?"

"Of course. But if my dance partner isn’t flawless, I’m walking out."

Rosalind’s grin turned wicked. "Oh, he’s perfect. Tall, sculpted, moves like a dream. You’ll devour him."

Meanwhile, downstairs, the gala buzzed.

Nathan stood like a statue, his tailored suit accentuating his powerful frame. Every woman in the room stole glances.

Victoria clung to his arm, glaring at anyone who dared look too long.

She’d only dragged him here for Rosalind’s designs. Otherwise? Never. This place was a den of vultures.

Nathan ignored them all. His gaze swept the crowd, searching—

Then, a murmur.

"Ah! It’s Rosalind!"