Chapter 204

Evelyn and Gwendolyn retreated upstairs for a private conversation.

Dominic was engrossed in an international conference call.

Through the glass doors, he observed their stiff body language. Though he couldn't make out their words, the tension between them was palpable. As he ended the call, his gaze followed their disappearing figures around the corridor bend.

"She claims to be Evelyn's aunt."

Sebastian approached with his report.

Dominic turned, his voice clipped. "Run a full background check on this so-called aunt."

Sebastian gave a curt nod before withdrawing.

Dominic's piercing stare lifted to the second-floor window left ajar. His expression remained unreadable, though his pulse betrayed him.

Upstairs, Evelyn fidgeted nervously.

This wasn't just their first meeting—it was the first time she'd encountered the mysterious aunt from family whispers. Worse, she feared the room still carried traces of Dominic's lingering cologne.

She felt like a teenager caught in a lie.

Gwendolyn's curious gaze swept the space. "That man who came down with you—"

"My employer," Evelyn cut in too quickly.

At twenty-three, Evelyn hadn't mastered the art of deception. Her tells were obvious—the slight tremor in her hands, the way her gaze darted away.

Gwendolyn noted everything. Her niece remained refreshingly transparent, lacking the polished deceit of high society.

Or perhaps, she mused, the girl simply didn't trust her enough yet to bother with proper lies.

Strangely, this endeared Evelyn to her more.

Gwendolyn patted the bedspread. "Sit with me."

Evelyn perched on the edge, fingers nervously smoothing nonexistent wrinkles. A fresh wave of guilt hit—until she remembered the housekeeper had changed the linens that morning.

The crisp autumn breeze carried away any lingering traces of their earlier indiscretion.

"Your grandfather and father—they're with you now?" Gwendolyn's question held weight.

Evelyn's nod was stiff with unspoken accusation.

"My father stayed in A City, but I brought Grandfather with me." Her voice turned sharp. "No granddaughter could abandon him in that crumbling house—eating alone, sleeping alone, living like some forgotten relic."

Gwendolyn's shoulders slumped. "My fault entirely." Her fingers twisted the watch on her wrist. "Post-divorce depression nearly killed me—literally." With sudden decisiveness, she removed her timepiece, revealing a lattice of silvery scars.

Evelyn's breath caught.

"Multiple attempts," Gwendolyn said matter-of-factly. "Your grandfather found me bleeding out once." A humorless smile twisted her lips. "Funny how we develop preferences—wrist-cutting's terribly inefficient. Messy. Painful."

Evelyn studied her aunt's composed face. How could someone recount such darkness with clinical detachment?

The chill down her spine had nothing to do with the autumn air.

Cancer had ravaged her father's body, yet never his spirit. What demons had broken this woman so completely?

The watch clicked back into place. "I need a favor." Gwendolyn's voice softened. "You're the only family I have left."

"Name it." Evelyn would help—within reason.

"A trust for your grandfather." Gwendolyn chose her words carefully. "Elderly care is expensive, and illness strikes without warning. I'd feel better knowing funds are immediately accessible through your account."

Evelyn frowned. "You're not staying in A City?"

Gwendolyn hesitated, then laid bare her constraints—legal entanglements preventing direct contact. The truth, she hoped, would secure her niece's cooperation.

When the white sports car disappeared down the lane, Evelyn remained rooted at the gate, grappling with her aunt's revelations.

The survey team had already left for the riverside site. Evelyn retrieved her laptop, stepping onto the sidewalk to hail a ride—only to spot a familiar sedan idling nearby.

The window lowered, revealing Sebastian's expectant face.

Evelyn hurried over, apologies tumbling out. She'd kept them waiting—again.

Inside, Isabella immediately glued herself to Evelyn's side, humming off-key.

"Must you smother Miss Sinclair? She'll think you're a pest." Alexander didn't glance up from his book, but his tone carried brotherly exasperation.