When Winston came to the door, he could just barely make out voices murmuring outside, but he couldn’t catch what they were saying.
He opened the door, puzzled. The moment he saw Finn standing there, surprise flickered across his face.
Finn?
What on earth was he doing here?
At the last family gathering, Winston had overheard Finn say he and Evangeline were dating. But as far as Winston knew, Finn swapped girlfriends more often than he changed shirts—he’d never imagined those two would last.
He certainly hadn’t expected Evangeline to actually bring Finn home to the Whitmore estate.
Evangeline caught the uncertainty in his eyes but didn’t bother to explain. “The photos,” she said, her tone brisk. “I’m here for them.”
Winston’s brow furrowed as he feigned a look of wounded affection. “After all this time apart, is this really how you greet your own father?”
Evangeline was about to reply, but just then, another figure squeezed out from the room.
“Evangeline, you’re back.”
The voice was oily and thick, and a moment later, a plump, familiar face appeared, its beady eyes sweeping over her from head to toe.
Evangeline stiffened.
“You?”
It took her a moment to place him.
The charity gala at the Lockridge Foundation—the man who had tried to drug her drink that night.
Winston gave a thin smile. “So you already know Mr. Wellington. No need for introductions then.”
He tried to act nonchalant, but Evangeline caught the flicker of guilt in his gaze.
Clearly, Winston had known about that night all along.
She realized now that Mr. Wellington seeking her out at the gala was no accident—Winston, or perhaps Hazel, had likely been behind it.
“Evangeline remembers me? I’m honored,” Mr. Wellington beamed, his smile spreading wider.
But Evangeline felt a chill run through her.
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