Chapter 33
Evelyn extended the pregnancy report toward Beatrice with steady fingers. "Here. Read it if you must. But this is my personal medical record—it has nothing to do with Nathaniel."
Her pulse hammered so violently she feared Beatrice might hear it.
Beatrice studied her for a long moment before letting out a derisive laugh. "Let's not play games. You're clearly here for fertility treatments. How shameless to imply my son is the issue when you're the barren one. I don't need to see your pathetic report."
Relief trickled through Evelyn. Beatrice hadn't guessed the truth. She schooled her expression into indifference. "Suit yourself."
"Wait." Beatrice's eyes narrowed. "Why so defensive? Caught in a lie? Honestly, don't bother with treatments. Once Nathaniel marries Victoria, they'll have perfect children. You'll never trap him with a baby."
Evelyn's lips curled into a cold smile. "The thought never crossed my mind. I have standards."
Her hand drifted protectively over her abdomen. She had always planned to leave the Whitmore estate with her child.
Beatrice's voice dripped with disdain. "Good. Victoria Sinclair comes from wealth and refinement. She's elegant, accomplished, and cultured—the only woman worthy of Nathaniel."
"Only her children deserve the Whitmore legacy. Don't delude yourself into thinking your bastard could ever inherit anything."
With that, Beatrice turned on her heel and strode away, her designer heels clicking sharply against the marble floor.
Evelyn's grip tightened on the report as bitterness coiled in her chest. Beatrice had always despised her humble origins, deemed her unworthy of Nathaniel.
But she had never wanted the Whitmore fortune—only Nathaniel's love.
As Beatrice disappeared down the hall, Evelyn looked down at her stomach. "Don't listen to her, little one. You'll have six uncles who'll adore you. They'll move heaven and earth to keep you safe."
She wasn't alone anymore.
Later, at home, she transferred her folic acid tablets into a vitamin bottle. No one would suspect a thing.
That night, as Evelyn settled into bed, her phone buzzed. A WhatsApp message from Sophia flashed on the screen. "Remember my Instagram post? A top-tier company reached out—they want to hire you. Name your price. Interested?"
Evelyn hesitated. "Which company?"
"Whitmore Global. You know how competitive their grad recruitment is? Well, they're courting YOU. Unheard-of benefits, but brutal standards."
"For you? They'll make exceptions."
Whitmore Global—Nathaniel's empire. Evelyn's fingers hovered over the screen. "I'll think about it."
She wanted nothing to do with Nathaniel. Besides, she planned to return to university soon. A job would complicate things. Her degree came first.
The irony wasn't lost on her—Nathaniel, who once ignored her existence, now extending an olive branch. How laughable that she'd once abandoned her ambitions for him.
Days later, Evelyn submitted her final design entry for the competition. But when the winner announcement date passed with no news, confusion set in.
"Why the delay? This never happened before," she murmured.
Daniel immediately messaged the family group chat. "Alexander, why haven't the results been released?"
Alexander's reply was petulant. "I wanted to throw a gala for Evelyn and reveal her identity! But Olivia vetoed it. Lectured me for fifteen minutes straight."
Olivia chimed in. "The ceremony is fine. But no identity reveal. Evelyn acts carefree, but she's fragile. We can't risk overwhelming her now that she's finally accepting us."