Chapter 20
The morning light filtered through the curtains as Evelyn Sinclair groaned, clutching her stomach. She barely made it to the bathroom before she was sick again.
“Evie, you used to handle alcohol like a champ. What happened?” Sebastian Whitmore handed her a glass of water and a small packet of hangover relief pills, his brow furrowed in concern.
“I haven’t touched a drop in three years. Last night was… excessive.”
Evelyn had given up drinking entirely during her marriage to Sebastian Blackwood. He despised the scent of alcohol on women, and she had been desperate to please him—until she wasn’t.
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were pregnant,” Sebastian teased, though his tone was light.
A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “What would you all do if I was pregnant with Sebastian’s child?” The question slipped out before she could stop it, and a sharp ache twisted in her chest.
Sebastian’s expression softened. “We’d take care of the baby, of course. No matter who the father is, the child would be family.”
Despite his deep hatred for Sebastian Blackwood, Sebastian Whitmore had a strong moral compass—one honed by years in the legal field.
“Relax,” Evelyn muttered, taking another sip of water. “As if I’d ever want to carry his child.”
Sebastian studied her for a moment before changing the subject. “Do you remember anything from last night?”
“I remember arguing with Damien Delmar. And then… Sebastian showed up? After that, it’s all a blur.”
“You really don’t remember?”
“I think some gorgeous stranger helped me. Ugh, if I hadn’t been so wasted, I would’ve gotten his number.”
“That was Lucian Ashford. We ended up at his new club.”
Evelyn’s interest evaporated instantly. “Never mind. That man is nothing but trouble.”
Sebastian smirked. “Well, guess what? Sebastian dragged you into the men’s restroom after that.”
Evelyn’s eyes widened. “What?”
“I don’t know what happened in there, but when I went in, you were clinging to him like a koala, wiping your nose on his shirt.” Sebastian shuddered at the memory.
Evelyn groaned, burying her face in her hands. “Oh my God.”
“If I hadn’t pulled you out when I did, who knows what that bastard might’ve—”
“He wouldn’t have done anything. Sebastian isn’t that kind of man,” Evelyn snapped, rubbing her temples.
Sebastian scoffed. “And now you’re defending him?”
“I’m not defending him! He’s cold, emotionally stunted, and hates me, but he’s not a monster.” The words stung as they left her lips.
Sebastian’s smirk returned. “Well, something got under his skin last night. He actually asked me if I planned to marry you—told me not to play with your feelings because you’re ‘too fragile’ for love games.”
Evelyn’s stomach twisted. “He what?”
Sebastian shrugged. “He thought I was Nathan. So I played along and told him to keep his hands off my woman. The look on his face was priceless.”
Evelyn’s fist connected with Sebastian’s shoulder before she could stop herself. “You idiot!”
Downstairs, Tristan Gallagher had prepared a light breakfast, knowing Evelyn would need something gentle on her stomach. When she descended the stairs in a silk slip dress—her curves barely concealed—his face burned, and he quickly looked away.
Sebastian groaned. “Evie, there are men in this house. Have some mercy.”
“I spent three years in modest dresses and flats. Now, I wear what I want.” She snatched a piece of toast and bit into it angrily.
Tristan blinked. “Ms. Sinclair, were you teaching at a convent or something?”
“Shut up,” the siblings chorused.
Later, dressed in a crisp white suit and designer heels, Evelyn strode into Whitmore Holdings with her head held high—though it still throbbed from last night’s excess.
Sitting at her desk, she replayed Sebastian’s words. Had Sebastian Blackwood actually been concerned for her? Had he stepped in last night out of something other than possessiveness?
No. Impossible.
Sebastian Blackwood didn’t care about her.
He never had.
