Chapter 45
“By the way, how is Evelyn handling things in Verona City? She was ruthless in dismantling the Delacroix Group. But if she isn’t careful, she might bring their full wrath down on herself.”
Reginald Whitmore’s voice was calm, but his eyes held a rare flicker of concern. “Dominic and Julian won’t be back anytime soon, so it’s up to you two to protect her at all costs. Understood?”
“Of course, Father.”
Nathan Whitmore nodded firmly, while Sebastian Whitmore smirked, cracking his knuckles. “Don’t worry, Dad. If anyone dares lay a finger on Evelyn, I’ll make sure they regret ever being born.”
Reginald took a slow sip of his wine, his expression unreadable. “Killing is unnecessary. Just ensure they suffer enough to wish they were dead.”
After dinner, Reginald and Nathan retired first. Sebastian lingered, noticing his brother had left his phone behind. Just as he reached for it, the screen lit up with an incoming call—Zachary Blackwood.
Sebastian’s lips curled into a sneer. He was tipsy, his inhibitions lowered. Glancing around to ensure no one was watching, he answered.
“To what do we owe this unexpected call, Mr. Blackwood?”
“I need to speak with Evelyn.” Zachary’s cold, commanding tone grated on Sebastian’s nerves.
Sebastian scoffed. “And what makes you think she’d want to talk to you? Who gave you the right to demand her attention?”
A tense silence stretched between them before Zachary spoke again, his voice laced with suspicion. “Nathan?”
Sebastian’s grip tightened around the phone. “If you’re drunk, go bother your fiancée. I don’t have time for your nonsense.”
Zachary’s voice turned icy. “If you truly care about Evelyn, fight fair. Don’t resort to underhanded tactics behind my back.”
Sebastian let out a sharp laugh. “You of all people have the audacity to lecture me about playing dirty? You and that scheming Delacroix woman started this war. If you’re here to beg for mercy on behalf of your precious Vanessa and her family, at least have the decency to grovel properly.”
Zachary’s fist clenched so hard his knuckles turned white. He was a man who commanded boardrooms effortlessly, yet here he was, rendered speechless by a prosecutor.
Sebastian wasn’t done. “But let me make one thing clear—even if you get on your knees and beg, I won’t stop until everyone who hurt Evelyn pays tenfold.”
With that, he ended the call.
Zachary sat in his study, the phone trembling in his grip. His jaw was set, veins throbbing at his temples. The screen had gone dark, but his fury burned hotter than ever.
“Mr. Blackwood!” Maxwell Reeves rushed in, only to freeze at the storm brewing in his boss’s expression.
“What?” Zachary snapped.
Maxwell swallowed hard. “I’ve completed the investigation you requested. Nathan Whitmore’s records were accessible—he’s the eldest son of Vivian Whitmore, Reginald’s first wife. But the other four siblings… their files are classified. I couldn’t access them.”
Zachary’s glare could have melted steel. Maxwell paled. “Should I… go request a pay cut from HR tomorrow?”
Meanwhile, Evelyn had just stepped out of a luxurious bubble bath, her skin still glowing. She padded downstairs, a sheet mask clinging to her face as she headed for the wine cellar.
“Ms. Sinclair, you should’ve called me. I’d have brought it for you,” Tristan Gallagher fretted, hurrying after her.
Evelyn waved him off. “Relax, Tristan. I just wanted to grab a bottle of merlot.” She glanced at his stiff posture and sighed. “It’s past nine. Why are you still in a suit?”
She gave him a pointed look. “Treat this place like home. Change into something comfortable. If you keep this up, I’ll feel like I’m still at the office.”
There was another reason—Tristan’s formal attire reminded her too much of him. Just the thought made her cheeks warm.
Zachary was a man of discipline. At Seaview Manor, he’d lock himself in his study, barely emerging until bedtime. Only then would he shed his armor—his tailored suits—for dark silk pajamas.
Cold. Controlled. Suffocating.
But Evelyn knew better. Beneath that icy exterior burned a fire few had ever witnessed.
“Ms. Sinclair?” Tristan tilted his head, puzzled.
Evelyn blinked, snapping out of her thoughts. Her face flushed, her pulse quickening.
Damn it.
