Chapter 135

Evelyn's face burned with warmth.

The car interior grew thick with unspoken tension.

Curled up in the passenger seat, she found Dominic's presence strangely comforting.

After much deliberation, Evelyn decided this sense of security came from their familial bond.

Being near her brother grounded her. That logic seemed sound - siblings often felt this way.

Her eyelids grew heavy.

Relief washed over her as sleep claimed her. Psychologically, viewing him as family made their alone time less morally ambiguous.

Dominic pulled up to a toll booth. Glancing sideways, he noted the woman curled against the window. The past days had drained her - poor appetite, sleepless nights, even fainting spells. Finally, rest came.

The Range Rover maintained steady speed. Dominic checked frequently, reassured by her deep, even breathing.

Small town roads proved bumpy. Evelyn awoke stiff and disoriented, blinking at unfamiliar surroundings.

Fingers clutching his suit jacket, she murmured, "I didn't mean to fall asleep."

Dominic navigated a turn toward her house. "Why apologize for sleeping?"

Evelyn hesitated.

He'd driven through the night to help find her grandfather. The journey must have been tedious without conversation.

A City.

Maxwell returned home well past midnight.

Frederick Lockwood jolted awake at the sound of tires on gravel.

He nudged his sleeping wife. "Eleanor. Wake up."

Eleanor Lockwood blinked groggily. "Is that Maxwell? What time is it?"

"Exactly." Frederick fumed. Their adult son remained beyond parental control.

Eleanor checked the clock. Far too late.

Before jail, Maxwell kept these hours regularly. His reckless lifestyle had finally caught up with him.

"I'll handle this." Eleanor slipped on her robe, preventing what would surely become a physical altercation.

Frederick punched his pillow in frustration.

Eleanor intercepted Maxwell at the foot of the stairs.

"Trouble sleeping? Shouldn't you prioritize beauty rest at your age?" Maxwell quipped, attempting to pass.

"Stop right there." Eleanor's voice cracked.

Maxwell turned.

Mother and son locked eyes. Eleanor's contained unshed tears. "Must you kill us with worry? No wonder Dominic scorns you. He wouldn't even bless your courtship with his secretary! Tell me - beyond your looks, what redeeming qualities do you possess?"

Maxwell had always been handsome. Eleanor once took pride in this.

Now she saw how his beauty attracted women, turning him into an irresponsible playboy.

Given the choice, she'd have preferred an ugly son. Dominic - Beatrice's disciplined, accomplished son - remained her secret envy.

Beatrice Lockwood, Frederick's sister, had never been Eleanor's friend. She'd always viewed Beatrice as a social climber.

This dislike extended to Dominic.

"Let Dominic live his life. Why should I care for his respect?" Maxwell, sober, frowned.

"You dare ask?" Eleanor nearly shrieked. Gesturing to where society's elite had gathered earlier, she hissed, "Everyone here moves in the same circles. This afternoon, Beatrice skipped our event for some trivial fashion show. Do you know how we're mocked?"

She'd never confess these insecurities to Frederick - he'd call her petty.

Maxwell noted his mother's crow's feet, her bitterness. After a pause, he said, "Get some rest. I don't need anyone's blessing. I'll marry Evelyn for you."

As Maxwell ascended, Eleanor exhaled in relief.

The small town.

Dominic examined the gate's iron lock. No signs of disturbance.

High walls enclosed the dark, ladderless yard.

No lights shone within.

"Your grandfather hasn't returned," Dominic told Evelyn, turning.

Evelyn stood motionless. Her silence twisted his heart. He pulled her close, pressing lips to her forehead.

"Let's wait for police updates," he soothed.

Soft sniffles broke the night's stillness. Dominic tilted her chin up - tears streaked her cheeks.

"Don't cry." Unskilled at comfort, he crushed her against his chest, stroking her hair. He wished he could absorb her completely.

Evelyn feared the worst for her grandfather.