A few low chuckles spread through the room, immediately that comment was made.
Evelyn’s smile did not waver.
She walked in calmly, her back straight, her steps steady.
Her eyes lifted toward the head of the table, and for a split second, she paused.
The resemblance was striking. Almost identical to Roman.
‘He must be Marcus.’
The realization settled quickly, but she did not let it show for more than a heartbeat.
She continued forward, looking for a seat.
But each time she reached one, someone subtly blocked it.
She moved to another. A folder appeared on it.
Another. A hand rested casually.
The message was clear.
She was not welcome.
Her smile tightened just slightly.
When she reached another chair, a man had his leg stretched across it.
This time, Evelyn did not hesitate.
