Chapter 327

“Yeah.”

The phone call had barely ended when another one came through.

“What’s this about you resigning?” His mother’s voice was sharp with accusation. “Is Alexander targeting you? I knew it! He’s always despised our family! This is his way of wiping us out—completely unacceptable! Has he lost his mind?”

Ethan exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You can’t just walk away, Ethan!” she continued, her tone bordering on hysterical. “If you leave Titan Capital Group, we lose all influence there! Do you realize what that means? Your father won’t even have a place to return to when he comes back from overseas!”

Overwhelmed, he ended the call without another word.

Before he could even set the phone down, it rang again.

This time, it was Trevor. “What the hell happened, man? You’re family! How did things get this bad? Alexander went nuclear—kicking you out like that?”

Ethan lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him as he leaned back in his chair. “I messed up.”

Trevor scoffed. “Sounds like he was just waiting for an excuse. With the rest of the Whitmore family being so weak, getting rid of you means he has full control now.”

Ethan took a long drag, the bitterness in his chest growing.

“Let’s be real,” Trevor pressed. “A man without a career is nothing. And you know how fast news travels in our circles. This isn’t just about you—it’s about reputation.”

Ethan clenched his jaw, the weight of the situation settling heavily on his shoulders.

The afternoon sunlight streamed through the windows of Eclipse Lounge, casting long shadows across the polished mahogany table. Trevor Moss leaned forward, his fingers drumming impatiently against his glass of whiskey.

"Remember the old days?" Trevor smirked, swirling the amber liquid. "Back when you were the golden heir of Titan Capital Group? People bowed at your feet. Now?" He scoffed. "Without that shiny title, you're just another face in the crowd."

Ethan Caldwell exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. His once-privileged life had crumbled, leaving him adrift. But Trevor’s next words sparked something inside him.

"Why don’t we build something ourselves?" Trevor’s eyes gleamed with reckless energy. "You’ve got the capital. I’ve got the hustle. Let’s break free from the damn Whitmores. Imagine it—Ethan Caldwell, self-made. No more living in Alexander’s shadow. And trust me, women love a man with his own empire."

Trevor had always been the dreamer, the one with grand schemes that his conservative parents had crushed at every turn. Yet, that fire in him had never died.

Ethan’s pulse quickened.

This could change everything.

The real reason he hesitated to challenge Alexander wasn’t just familial loyalty—it was power. The kind that made men kneel.

But what if he could stand as an equal?

In business, blood meant nothing. Only strength did.

And Evelyn…

Seven years. Seven years of memories. She couldn’t have erased them.

Otherwise, why would she have warned him yesterday? That single whispered "Be careful" when the knife flashed—it meant something.

Didn’t it?

His fingers curled into fists.

Maybe it was time to stop running.

Maybe it was time to fight back.

Evelyn’s invitation was met with immediate acceptance.

The door swung open without hesitation.

Benjamin Cole’s wife, Olivia, though nearing forty, could easily pass for early thirties.

Her embroidered gown shimmered under the chandelier light, exuding the effortless grace of high society.

When she spotted Evelyn, Olivia moved forward, her smile warm and welcoming. “Ms. Carter!”

Evelyn inclined her head slightly. “Mrs. Cole, please—just Evelyn.”

Olivia hadn’t anticipated Alexander’s wife to be so approachable.

Being married to a man like Alexander placed her at the very top of the social ladder.

An event like this was a privilege, yet Evelyn carried no arrogance—only quiet confidence.

Olivia felt an instant kinship with her.

Remembering the reason for the invitation, Olivia glanced behind her. “Where’s Mr. Herty?”

The attendant shook his head. “He was here moments ago.”

Evelyn’s brows lifted slightly. “Mr. Herty?”

A flicker of curiosity crossed her face.

The atmosphere hummed with murmured conversations and clinking glasses.

Evelyn’s gaze swept the room, taking in the glittering crowd.

Olivia leaned in slightly. “Leonard Herty—the renowned cellist. He was supposed to perform tonight.”

Evelyn’s lips curved. “Ah. I’ve heard of him.”

A beat of silence passed between them.

Then Olivia’s eyes brightened. “You know, I’ve been meaning to ask—how do you find Cresthaven?”

Evelyn’s smile deepened. “It’s growing on me.”

Olivia laughed softly. “Give it time. It has a way of pulling people in.”

A server passed by with champagne flutes.

Olivia plucked two, handing one to Evelyn.

Their glasses touched with a delicate chime.

Before either could speak again, a commotion near the entrance drew their attention.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped into the room.

Alexander Whitmore.

His presence commanded the space effortlessly.

Evelyn’s pulse quickened.

Olivia’s knowing glance didn’t escape her.

“Seems someone’s eager to see you,” Olivia murmured.

Evelyn took a slow sip of champagne, her eyes never leaving Alexander.

“Or perhaps,” she countered lightly, “he’s just making sure I haven’t caused a scandal.”

Olivia chuckled. “Somehow, I doubt that’s his concern.”

Alexander’s gaze locked onto Evelyn’s.

The corner of his mouth lifted.

Evelyn exhaled slowly.

The night was far from over.