Chapter 386
Nathaniel exhaled a slow stream of smoke, watching it curl into the dim light of the office. His expression was unreadable, obscured by the haze.
Heath—no, Robert—stood stiffly, waiting. He had delivered his report, but Nathaniel’s silence was heavier than the smoke between them.
The memory of Julian defending Evelyn flashed in Nathaniel’s mind. Did they even need a DNA test after that?
Yet, he said nothing. The air was thick, suffocating.
Evelyn jolted awake, her breath ragged, her face damp with tears.
The nightmare clung to her—Nathaniel’s men dragging her back, the sterile white of the operating room, the cold indifference in his eyes as she begged.
"No!"
Her hands flew to her stomach. Still there. Still safe.
She wasn’t in that hospital. She was in an unfamiliar apartment, hidden.
A soft knock.
"Evelyn?"
Christopher’s voice. Hesitant. Guilty.
She wiped her cheeks. "Come in."
The door creaked open. Christopher hovered, his usual confidence shattered. "You had a nightmare."
It wasn’t a question.
She didn’t answer. Instead, she asked, "Where’s Julian?"
"Emergency at the hospital." Christopher swallowed hard. "But I’m here. I won’t leave you again. I swear."
Evelyn shook her head. "This isn’t your fight, Christopher."
His eyes glistened. She wasn’t blaming him. After Julian’s furious lecture, he’d braced for her anger—but there was none.
It made the guilt worse.
His voice hardened. "I’ll make Jonathan pay. Him and his mother."
Evelyn’s lips thinned. She remembered the bruises on Jonathan’s face after Nathaniel’s men finished with him. "Leave it. I’ll handle it myself."
She had leverage now. The Whitmore name was powerful, but scandals were costly.
Christopher clenched his fists but nodded.
Then, softly: "I’m hungry. That place we went to last time—can you order?"
"Of course." He turned, relief and frustration warring in his steps.
The moment the door closed, Evelyn reached for her phone.
And dialed Jonathan.