Chapter 239

Evelyn strode through the banquet hall in her stilettos, scanning every corner. Where had that glutton Nathan disappeared to now? She sighed inwardly.

Crystal chandeliers cast shimmering light over clinking glasses and perfumed guests. Many admiring glances followed her striking beauty. She exchanged brief pleasantries with acquaintances before resuming her search.

Ten minutes passed with no sign of Nathan. She pulled out her phone and sent a message. The screen remained dark—no reply.

"Time to go home." Thoughts of her waiting children made her turn toward the lounge.

The corridor's quiet was a relief after the noisy ballroom. At the far end, a cluster of men caught her attention.

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. She'd witnessed enough bullying scenes to recognize one instantly. Just as she turned to leave, a familiar name froze her in place.

"Vincent Ashcroft, you mangy mutt!" Lucien Croix's sneering voice echoed down the hall. "We have unfinished business from that bar incident."

"Fortune's wheel turns, Lucien." Vincent's voice held terrifying calm. "Let's see how long your luck lasts."

A dull thud. Vincent crumpled to the floor but kept his head raised defiantly.

Lucien loomed over him, grinding a polished shoe into Vincent's ribs. "My luck lasts forever! While you'll always grovel like the dog you are!"

His lackeys closed in with kicks and punches. Vincent shielded his head—then locked eyes with Evelyn through the gaps between his fingers.

She remained motionless. Watched as Vincent's resistance weakened under the assault. Yet his gaze burned brighter with each blow.

"Pathetic!" Lucien spat. "Heard you're sweet on Cassandra Valentine?"

Vincent's body tensed.

"Too bad," Lucien taunted. "She warmed my bed last night. Think a penniless wretch like you could ever impress her?"

Vincent's nails dug bloody crescents into his palms. Evelyn caught the murderous glint in his eyes—quickly extinguished.

"Beat him senseless!" Lucien ordered. Fists rained down like hail.

Finally, Evelyn moved. The sharp click of her heels made the attackers freeze. When she stepped into the light, stunned silence fell.

"M-Miss Roland?" Lucien stammered.

She ignored him, kneeling beside Vincent. Delicate fingers tilted his battered face upward, examining each wound with clinical precision.

"Does it hurt?" Her whisper was deceptively soft.

Vincent's pupils dilated violently.