Chapter 101

Dominic's tone held no flirtation, only pure derision.

Evelyn felt heat rise to her cheeks as she pressed herself against the wall behind the door. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to take slow, measured breaths.

"Get a grip, Evelyn," she mentally scolded herself. "What's wrong with you? How could you even entertain those thoughts about him?"

"You're seriously messed up."

"Have you forgotten what you are to each other now?"

"Wake the hell up!"

After wrestling with her conflicting emotions, Evelyn finally entered the room carrying the food tray.

Dominic stood by the window, now dressed in a charcoal gray shirt and black trousers that accentuated his imposing figure. The outfit made him appear even more unapproachable and cold.

His tired eyes, still heavy with sleep, flickered toward her as she entered. "You brought food?" His voice was ice.

Evelyn set the tray down carefully. "Your grandfather insisted. I couldn't refuse him."

Dominic methodically buttoned his cuffs, his gaze never leaving her. "Sit. You haven't eaten either - I noticed you barely spent any time downstairs before coming back up."

From the timeline, he knew Evelyn hadn't had time for a meal.

But Evelyn remained standing. "Take your time. I'm not hungry."

Dominic's brow furrowed as he watched her retreat to the study without another glance at the food.

Twenty minutes later, Evelyn returned to find the meal untouched.

In a normal relationship, she might have worried about him skipping meals. But they weren't normal anymore.

Whether he ate or starved wasn't her concern. Showing concern now would only send mixed signals.

She wordlessly removed the tray.

Downstairs in the kitchen, Evelyn explained the situation to the housekeeper, who simply nodded and began clearing the dishes without questions.

Noticing that Reginald Sinclair had finished his meal, Evelyn took him for a garden stroll. The smooth pavement made pushing the wheelchair effortless.

Halfway through their walk, the old man suddenly requested, "Fetch me some water, would you? And lend me your phone - I need to make a call."

Unsuspecting, Evelyn handed over her phone. "Of course, Grandfather. I'll get your water now."

"Good." Reginald watched his granddaughter leave before dialing.

Robert Sinclair knew his father was in A City, and about Evelyn's elaborate ruse. They'd coordinated their stories carefully to avoid slip-ups.

Time was short - Reginald spoke quickly when the call connected. "Robert, answer me this - was your ex-wife named Beatrice Lockwood? Is she currently in A City?"

Lying in his hospital bed, Robert immediately understood - his father must have encountered Beatrice and grown suspicious.

"Why hasn't she revealed herself?" he wondered before responding, "You're mistaken, Father. It was Julie Zimmer... My ex-wife's name was Julie Zimmer..."

Robert heard his father exhale in clear relief.

Back at Blackwood Manor...

Evelyn returned with the water to find her grandfather had already ended the call. A quick check showed he'd called her father, but the old man's calm expression suggested nothing amiss.

After settling Reginald upstairs, Evelyn called her father.

"What did Grandfather ask you?"

"He must have run into your mother. Asked if her name was Beatrice Lockwood. I told him his memory was failing - that your mother's name was Julie Zimmer..." Robert's sentence dissolved into coughing.

While he didn't oppose Evelyn reconnecting with her mother, he insisted on keeping it from Reginald.

Evelyn agreed immediately.

She couldn't risk upsetting either man's fragile health. Sitting alone on a garden bench, she contemplated next steps.

The only viable option was waiting until Reginald's condition stabilized - no more bloody coughs - before attempting to return home. Whether that meant home care or hospital observation would depend on his recovery.

The rumble of an engine interrupted her thoughts. A sleek black Porsche Cayenne - brand new - pulled up to the manor gates.

A man in his thirties emerged, immediately embraced by Beatrice. "Maxwell! We've been waiting for you to get out!"

"Get out?" Evelyn wondered. "From where?"

Maxwell Lockwood's sharp features softened with a smile. "Thank you, Aunt Beatrice. Where's Dominic?"

"Upstairs." Beatrice moved past him to hug a petite young woman, her face lighting up. "I barely recognize you, Yvette! How old are you now?"

"Nineteen," Yvette Prescott replied with dimpled cheeks. "Already graduated and starting work soon."

Their laughter echoed as the group ascended the stairs.

Evelyn remained in the garden, feeling like an unwelcome outsider in what should have been her home.

Then her phone rang abruptly.

"Get up here! Your grandfather's coughing blood again!" Beatrice's impatient voice demanded.

Evelyn's heart lurched. She dropped everything and raced upstairs.

But before reaching Reginald's room, Beatrice suddenly yanked her into another room.

"Why are you running around like a madwoman?" Beatrice demanded, studying Evelyn closely.

"My grandfather—" Evelyn began, then realized Beatrice had emerged from the study.

Inside, Dominic sat behind the desk, his expression glacial. Those piercing eyes locked onto her as she stood frozen in the doorway.

Beside him, the young woman from downstairs - Yvette - gazed at Dominic's jawline and throat with undisguised fascination.

On the sofa lounged Maxwell from earlier, legs casually crossed.

The realization hit - Beatrice had lied. Reginald was fine.

With theatrical enthusiasm, Beatrice pulled Evelyn forward. "Yvette here won't stop talking about marrying our Dominic! I told her my son already has a girlfriend. Speak of the devil - here you are!"

"We've broken up." Dominic's deep voice cut through the room.

He frowned at his work, his expression darkening further.

Evelyn blinked in shock before nodding. "We just haven't told the grandfathers yet. I was worried they..."