Chapter 433

Sebastian Whitmore's grip tightened around Evelyn Hartley's wrist, crushing both her pretense and any hope of escape. His eyes burned with cold fury.

"You made a vow," he hissed. "On your knees before Olivia Sinclair, swearing never to harm her again. Yet here we are. If this blows up, even I can't protect you."

Evelyn's face twisted. "Olivia? Since when do you say her name so tenderly?" She wrenched her arm free. "I'm your fiancée! You should be exposing her flaws. The truth hurts, doesn't it? Never forget—you owe me everything."

Rising slowly, she cradled her abdomen with a grotesque smile. "Especially now that I'm carrying your child."

Sebastian paled. "That's impossible."

Her smirk widened. "Your family demands heirs. I'm the perfect broodmare. Treat me well, or I'll paint Olivia as a homewrecker to your parents. Right now, I have no power... but as Mrs. Whitmore?" She leaned in, breath hot against his cheek. "I'll destroy her."

His jaw clenched. "You think I'll let that happen?"

"Stop me if you can." With a mocking curtsy, Evelyn sauntered away, leaving Sebastian slumped against the wall, drowning in regret.

This was his fault. That damned cruise.

Months ago, a reckless getaway had turned into a nightmare. Drugged amidst illegal dealings, Sebastian became blackmail fodder—compromising photos, fabricated scandals. They'd planned to kill him until Evelyn appeared like a specter, "saving" him from exposure.

He'd woken with her in his bed, paparazzi swarming. The Whitmores—led by patriarch Marcus Whitmore—demanded restitution. A marriage to salvage their reputation. A severance from Olivia.

Sebastian had complied, believing Evelyn held his debts. But doubts festered. Was she truly his rescuer? Investigating that night proved impossible now. With her pregnancy claim, Evelyn wielded nuclear leverage.

His phone burned in his pocket. Olivia's number flashed in his mind. But shame paralyzed him. How could he face her after this betrayal?

Meanwhile, Liam Blackwood prepared to address the media storm. Across town, Victoria Ellington swirled her wine, smug.

"Love makes men weak," she purred to her reflection. "Only the heartless rise."

The press conference loomed—a ticking bomb set to detonate all their lives.