Chapter 220

Alexander sat with his back to the entrance, but when Ethan's pen clattered onto the marble floor, his brow arched in silent question.

Simon, spotting Evelyn's sudden appearance, immediately bent to murmur in Alexander's ear. Only then did the CEO turn.

Their eyes locked.

The temperature in the room plummeted.

Evelyn stood frozen in the doorway, drowning in Alexander's oversized shirt, her bare legs glistening under the chandelier's glow.

A dozen executives gaped.

Alexander's jaw tightened. "Return to our suite." His voice was Arctic frost.

Evelyn's pulse stuttered.

She hadn't anticipated Titan Capital's entire board would be gathered here at midnight.

Heat scorched her cheeks as she slammed the oak door with enough force to rattle the Picasso.

Her thoughts spiraled. They all know. They all saw. God, I could die right now.

As Evelyn fled down the corridor, Alexander gave Simon a clipped nod. The unspoken command hung between them—handle this.

The penthouse elevator doors slid shut just as the first champagne flute shattered against the wall.

Simon nodded and left, closing the door with a soft click.

The living room was thick with tension. Every breath, every rustle of fabric seemed deafening in the heavy silence.

The executives shifted uncomfortably, their eyes darting to Alexander’s frosty expression.

They had walked into something private—something they weren’t meant to witness. The weight of their intrusion pressed down on them.

No one dared to speak first. No one wanted to make the situation worse.

The silence stretched until Alexander suddenly slammed the file in his hand onto the table. The sharp sound made everyone flinch.

His anger was unmistakable, sharpening the unease in the room.

The executives exchanged nervous glances. They knew this wasn’t just about business anymore.

One of them, beads of sweat forming on his forehead, swallowed hard before speaking. "Mr. Whitmore," he stammered, "we—we won’t mention what we saw. You have our discretion."

Alexander studied the man before him, his eyebrow arching in silent challenge. "Is that so? And what precisely do you think warrants this conversation?"

The executive floundered, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead as he wiped it nervously for the third time.

It was obvious—Alexander’s question was a trap. No one dared speculate about his relationship with Evelyn now, not when their careers hung in the balance.

Leaning back against the plush sofa, Alexander took a slow, deliberate drag from his cigarette, savoring the tension thickening the air. The discomfort radiating from the room was almost palpable.

Then, the door clicked open.

Simon stepped inside, a sleek leather tote in hand. He moved with quiet efficiency, stopping just outside the study before knocking lightly.

"Mrs. Whitmore," he announced, his voice carrying just enough to be heard clearly in the living room. "Mr. Whitmore has something for you."

The executives froze.

Eyes widened. Jaws slackened.

Mrs. Whitmore?

The realization struck like lightning—Evelyn Carter was Alexander Whitmore’s wife. The woman they had dismissed, underestimated, was the very one who held his heart.

Alexander smirked, watching their stunned expressions with dark amusement. "What’s with the looks? Did someone forget how to breathe?"

The executive who had spoken earlier snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked.

The air in the room grew thick with tension as realization dawned on the executives.

"Mr. Whitmore… is Ms. Carter truly your wife?"

Alexander exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his lips curling into a knowing smirk. "Or would you prefer she was yours?"

Just then, Evelyn stepped out of her bedroom, dressed in the outfit Simon had delivered.

Unaware of the scene unfolding, she walked into the living room only to freeze at the sight before her.

The usually composed executives stood rigid, their expressions a mix of shock and deference.

Her breath hitched.

To her astonishment, the proud, unapproachable men suddenly bowed in perfect unison.

"Mrs. Whitmore!"

"Mrs. Whitmore!"

Their voices rang out, filling the space with an unspoken acknowledgment of her status.

Evelyn's pulse quickened.

The weight of their respect settled over her, undeniable and absolute.

Alexander's gaze never left her, dark with possession and pride.

The game had just changed.

And she was at the center of it all.