Chapter 242
Evelyn Carter watched Nathan Sterling's retreating figure with a bitter smile curling her lips.
The alcohol haze had cleared completely now.
She glanced down at her trembling hands, nails digging crescent moons into her palms.
Humiliation burned through her veins like wildfire. That protective stance Nathan had taken with Evelyn downstairs—it haunted her.
Weren't they supposed to be divorced? Then why did he still move like her personal shield?
A shadow crossed Rosalind Blackwell's face as the thought took root.
When Nathan returned to the grand hall after showering, his freshly pressed suit couldn't mask his restlessness. His gaze swept the room, finding every face except the one he sought.
Margaret Winslow sighed. "She's gone, Nathan."
His head snapped up. "You let her leave?" The accusation slipped out before he could stop it.
"Tell me truthfully—what game are you playing?" Margaret's cane tapped sharply against marble. "I told you to cherish that girl, yet you chose betrayal. Now you're divorced and still acting like a lovesick fool?"
"Grandmother!" Nathan's jaw tightened.
"Did you ever clean up your messy affairs?" Margaret's voice turned glacial. "Or have you forgotten? You were the one who strayed first, got another woman pregnant—"
Nathan's expression darkened at the reminder.
Margaret rarely denied him anything, but on this matter, she showed no mercy.
"Burned bridges leave only ashes, Nathan. Remember that." Her grip tightened on the cane. "If you want Evelyn's forgiveness, prepare to spend the rest of your life making amends."
She paused, watching the pain flicker across his face. "But if she can't move past this... perhaps your story truly has reached its end."
Nathan stormed out, the banquet's laughter grating against his raw nerves.
On the balcony, smoke curled around him like ghosts of his mistakes. Cigarette after cigarette turned to ash beneath his polished shoes.
Finally, he dialed an international number. "The investigation—what did you find?"
The answer had him stubbing out his cigarette with sudden purpose. "Book my flight. I'm coming tonight."
Meanwhile, Evelyn found herself outside her boutique instead of returning to the office.
Olivia Sinclair's delighted squeal greeted her. "Evelyn! What brings you here today?"
"Just passing by." Evelyn forced a smile. "Business still good?"
"Better than ever!" Olivia twirled, showing off their new displays. Then her smile faltered. "Hey... what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Evelyn hesitated before voicing the thought that had haunted her since leaving Sterling Manor. "What would you think... if someone kept a black-and-white portrait of themselves in their home?"
Olivia blinked. "You mean like... a funeral photo? That's creepy. Who does that while they're still alive?"
Exactly Evelyn's thought.
Yet the image of that locked room at Sterling Manor refused to leave her—the solitary portrait watching over empty space. Could it really be just a coincidence?