Chapter 827

Rosalind met Julian's gaze without flinching.

"You already know Lucian's true identity. Why ask? Of course I'm devastated—I love him!"

Julian's expression darkened instantly. "What—"

Rosalind shoved him away with surprising force and turned on her heel.

Julian remained frozen, his piercing cold stare fixed on the direction where Rosalind and Everett had vanished.

Three years ago, he had torn them apart effortlessly. Now, he wouldn't let them reunite.

The sleek black limousine sped through the city streets. Everett and Genevieve sat in the back while Reginald drove.

Reginald smirked through the rearview mirror. "So, you finally told Ms. Fairchild who you really are?"

Everett shot him a warning glance. "Drop the hostility toward her."

"After everything she did to you? Have you forgotten? You nearly died searching for her after that mission, and what did she do? Betrayed you for Julian. They were engaged! She saw you as nothing but a mistake—sent men to disfigure you, pushed your car off a cliff! Do you even remember those three years of hell?"

Reginald's voice burned with fury.

Everett's jaw tightened. "She didn't know. I don't believe she ordered any of it."

"Even if not her, it was Julian. They're both poison! You clawed your way back from death—why throw yourself into the war between Whitmore Holdings and Blackwood Industries? Why risk everything for her again?"

"She raised Lillian these past three years," Everett murmured.

"Enough excuses! The truth is, you never stopped loving her. Now that you're a tech mogul and Whitmore Holdings is crumbling, she's clinging to you. One kiss and you forget everything. Wake up—she's using you!"

Everett remembered Rosalind's warmth in the dim bathroom light. It didn't take much to undo him.

Reginald's worry ran deep. Three years ago, he'd found Everett—then Dwight—at the cliff's base, barely breathing, his face mutilated, body broken. A miracle he'd survived.

He'd never understand why Everett still wanted Rosalind.

Through the mirror, Reginald studied Everett—immaculate in his tailored black suit, every inch the untouchable billionaire.

But Dwight had been part of Everett, and Rosalind had been Dwight's entire world.

That refined heiress had been the brightest firework in Dwight's life. Forgetting her was impossible.

Yet Reginald would never accept them together again.

Genevieve spoke softly, "Everett, as your physician these past three years, my orders stand. Your health comes first. Nothing else matters."

She'd grown up with Everett and Reginald—brilliant, dedicated.

When Reginald had brought Everett to her, half-dead, she'd worked miracles to save him. Never left his side since.

Reginald adored her. He saw her devotion clearly.

Smirking, he said, "Forget Ms. Fairchild. Maybe consider Genevieve instead."

Genevieve flushed. "Reginald! Stop that."

Three years ago, when Reginald had carried Everett's broken body to her, she'd poured everything into saving him. Never left his side.

Reginald loved her for it.

"She's not right for you," he pressed. "Think about Genevieve."

Genevieve's cheeks burned. "Oh, stop teasing!"