Chapter 98
After responding to Archibald’s question, Zachary stepped closer to Evelyn. His piercing gaze lingered on her face, taking in every detail.
Tear stains still glistened on her delicate cheeks. Strands of hair clung to her damp skin, making her appear even more fragile—like a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering.
Evelyn’s face flushed with embarrassment as another tear slipped from her lashes.
Zachary’s attention locked onto those trembling lashes. His chest tightened inexplicably, his breath hitching as he watched the droplet fall.
“Apologize to your wife right now, you insufferable fool!” Archibald barked, his voice sharp with irritation.
“Why should I? I didn’t make her cry,” Zachary retorted, brows knitting together in confusion.
Archibald’s eyes blazed. “Evelyn is your wife, you dimwit! Or are you expecting me to comfort her in your place?”
“Grandfather, Zachary and I are already divorced—”
“I don’t care!” Archibald snapped, cutting her off. “He neglected you for three years! The least he owes you is an apology!”
At the mention of “divorce,” the old man’s expression darkened, frustration and sorrow twisting his features.
“Zachary,” he growled, “if you don’t apologize this instant, I swear I’ll strike your name from the family records!”
Zachary clenched his jaw, his lips pressing into a thin line. After a tense pause, he exhaled sharply.
“Fine. Sorry.”
Evelyn’s swollen eyes widened. Her pulse stuttered, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Zachary had never apologized to her before.
Too bad it was forced.
“This time,” Archibald commanded, “you will bow like a proper gentleman while apologizing!”
Zachary’s patience frayed. “Seriously?”
“Be grateful I’m not making you kneel! I used to grovel before your grandmother whenever I upset her!”
“Evelyn is family,” Archibald continued sternly. “Now, do it.”
With a barely suppressed sigh, Zachary complied. He took a measured step back, straightened his posture, and then—with perfect precision—inclined his torso in a formal bow, his hands stiff at his sides.
“My sincerest apologies, Ms. Sinclair. The fault is entirely mine.”
Archibald smirked, pleased. In that moment, he wished nothing more than to see these two reconcile.
Meanwhile, Evelyn’s sniffles quieted, though her cheeks remained flushed. Watching Zachary—proud, untouchable Zachary—lower himself before her sent a thrill through her.
Sincere or not, his submission was delicious.
Just as Zachary began to straighten, Archibald barked, “Hold that position until Evelyn allows you to rise!”
Seconds ticked by.
Evelyn said nothing.
Zachary’s jaw twitched. She was enjoying this.
Finally, after a dramatic sniff, she spoke softly.
“Grandfather, Zachary isn’t the reason I cried. Please don’t punish him.”
Zachary’s eyes narrowed. Oh, she was good.
Yet, when he caught sight of her puffy eyes, his irritation faded.
At dinner, Evelyn wheeled Archibald into the dining room, Zachary trailing behind.
The table groaned under an extravagant spread—clearly, Archibald had prepared this feast for Evelyn.
Just as they settled, Maxwell rushed in, his expression conflicted. He hesitated beside Zachary, clearly wanting to whisper.
“Out with it,” Archibald demanded, scowling. “No secrets in this house.”
Maxwell glanced at Zachary, who gave a curt nod.
“Very well, sir.” He took a breath. “Madam Isabella called. She didn’t wish to disturb you, so she asked me to relay a message.”
Archibald’s face darkened at the mention of Isabella.
“She said Ms. Delacroix’s test results are in. The diagnosis is—”
