Chapter 500

Lawrence had always despised his incompetent younger brother.

To Lawrence, Theodore was nothing more than a spineless servant, content to fetch tea and trail after Evelyn like a devoted lapdog.

But Lawrence never anticipated Harrison Kingsley—Fairhaven's wealthiest tycoon—to publicly declare Theodore as his godson.

This was blatant favoritism, an unmistakable show of support from the Monarch Group patriarch.

Worse still, Harrison had praised Theodore extravagantly before the entire gathering.

Wasn't this just a veiled insult directed at Lawrence?

Around the table, the Kingsley siblings wore varying expressions. Evelyn's crimson lips curled as she barely suppressed a laugh.

Oh, Harrison. How deliciously petty.

Lawrence probably never imagined this dinner would become his carefully laid trap.

"Mr. Kingsley, you honor our son beyond measure!" Walter and Penelope Pembroke exchanged startled glances. Though thrilled, Walter waved his hands frantically. "My youngest could never deserve such an honor! Serving at Monarch Group is privilege enough!"

"Walter, we've been friends for decades." Harrison's voice carried quiet authority. "I don't give compliments lightly. If Theodore weren't exceptional, I wouldn't make this offer. Surely you understand?"

Each praise for Theodore cut deeper into Lawrence's pride.

Beneath the table, Lawrence's fists clenched until his knuckles whitened, eyes burning with humiliation.

Just as he sought an excuse to leave, Harrison remarked casually, "Evelyn, when you see Sebastian in a few days, deliver a message for me."

"What is it, Father?" Evelyn rested her chin on one hand, eyes gleaming.

"I've approved his acquisition proposal for Westwood Legal. He may proceed immediately."

Lawrence froze.

The words struck like a thunderbolt.

Westwood Legal held controlling shares in his firm.

If Harrison acquired it, wouldn't that give the Kingsleys complete control over Lawrence's practice?

So this was their game!

Lawrence's jaw locked, veins bulging at his temples as cold sweat soaked through his tailored suit.

He couldn't bear to meet Harrison or Evelyn's gazes, knowing their triumphant stares would flay him alive.

This entire dinner had been a carefully orchestrated humiliation—retribution for crossing Evelyn, proof of who truly held power.

Harrison wanted Lawrence to understand the cost of challenging his treasured daughter.

After dinner, the Pembroke family lingered in the parlor, conversation flowing in clusters.

Evelyn seized the rare opportunity to chat with her brothers, their laughter ringing through the room.

Meanwhile, Dominic and Gregory, being in similar professional circles, engaged in lively debate. The four siblings eventually settled into a boisterous game of cards.

Just as Evelyn leaned forward to play her hand, her elbow knocked over a crystal glass of merlot.

Burgundy liquid cascaded down her ivory dress, staining slender calves and dripping onto delicate feet.

"Let me help!" Dominic scrambled for napkins.

"I'll do it!" Raymond sprang up urgently.

"Should I...?" Gregory hesitated, feeling obligated to join the sudden commotion.

As three grown men fumbled to assist, a tall figure materialized and dropped to one knee before Evelyn.

Evelyn looked down in surprise, dark lashes fluttering.

Theodore had appeared instantly, producing a monogrammed handkerchief. Cradling her foot with one hand, he began meticulously dabbing away the wine with the other.

Evelyn jerked back instinctively.

Undeterred, Theodore continued his ministrations with single-minded focus, as though this were simply part of his duties.

The room fell silent.

Across the parlor, Arabella—mid-conversation with Camille—felt her heart plummet. Tremors wracked her frame.

Her vision blurred as she bit her lip hard enough to draw blood, something fragile shattering in her chest.

"Mother... I'm unwell. I'll retire early."

Arabella kept her head lowered, golden hair veiling tear-bright eyes as she fled.

"Arabella? Arabella!" Camille called after her retreating figure.

Evelyn noticed Theodore had finished with her foot and moved toward her stained calf. Flustered, she recoiled and stood abruptly.

Theodore looked up, gaze luminous with devotion.

Meeting that worshipful stare, Evelyn sighed softly. "You're not my secretary tonight. You're Walter Pembroke's son. Even if you were, this isn't necessary. I'll wash it off."

With that, she walked away, leaving Theodore kneeling alone before the astonished assembly.