Chapter 792

Evelyn's fingertips absently traced the rim of her teacup.

Whenever she thought about Vincent Croix and Bianca Langley, her chest tightened as if weighted by a stone. That ominous premonition clung to her like the eerie calm before a storm.

"That bastard belongs in hell!" Vivian slammed her palm on the coffee table, making the lemon slice in her glass bob violently.

Evelyn parted her lips, then swallowed her words. Even she couldn't conjure a single justification for a man like Vincent.

"Remember what I said about Alexander? That belated affection is cheaper than weeds?" Vivian's laugh was bitter. "Turns out that's too generous for Vincent. His performative remorse is more toxic than arsenic."

Her glass hit the table with a sharp clink.

Wiping her mouth, Vivian suddenly lowered her voice. "You know what the socialites are whispering about him now?"

Evelyn looked up.

"Those snobbish ladies finally agree on something." Vivian's smirk was razor-thin. "They say Bianca was doomed the moment she married him."

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her cup.

This rare sympathy from privileged women was merely collective grief. None could guarantee they wouldn't become the next Bianca.

"If she could do it over—" Evelyn murmured.

"There are no do-overs." Vivian cut her off. "Marriage is a high-stakes gamble. Rather than betting your life on a man, why not make your own fortune? Imagine being surrounded by handsome young men later."

She half-closed her eyes, already envisioning the scene.

Evelyn shook her head. "Wake up. I need to ask you something serious."

"About Vincent's first love?" Vivian's expression sobered instantly.

Evelyn nodded. "Bianca asked me to check on her before leaving. That girl... her story is tragic."

The air grew heavy.

"I know bits." Vivian's voice dropped to a whisper. "Vincent later showered her with apartments, cars, affection. But only after securing his position."

A chill ran down Evelyn's spine.

Meaning Vincent had neatly disposed of his first love while pursuing Bianca. The calculation behind it was horrifying.

"I have the cemetery address." Vivian pulled out her phone. "Socialite gossip networks outperform detective agencies."

Evelyn noted the address, planning to leave at dawn.

Alexander insisted on accompanying her. He'd been working late nights just to clear his schedule.

Lying awake in the silent mansion, Evelyn often found sleep elusive.

The master bedroom felt cavernous. Sometimes she'd wake at midnight and drift to the study door. Seeing light seep through the crack inexplicably soothed her.

Tonight, she overheard Alexander's phone call again.

"...Only the finest incense.

Prepare premium offerings.

And osmanthus—

I know it's out of season. Source it from the south.

Cost is irrelevant. Deliver by morning..."