Chapter 398

Evelyn Sinclair's eyes burned with searing hatred.

She rose from the couch, determination hardening her features. Beatrice Lockwood would be her target. That shallow socialite could be her ticket to Reginald Blackwood's favor.

With the old patriarch's approval and her parents' influence, Dominic would have no choice but to submit.

T Corporation.

Dr. Julian Whitmore completed his examination. Aside from Evelyn's sprained wrist, there were no physical injuries.

But her mental state told a different story.

Anyone would be traumatized after nearly plunging from the 88th floor.

Julian conducted a counseling session and prescribed herbal remedies. Only when Dominic confirmed Evelyn's calm demeanor did he dismiss the doctor.

Shock still lingered in Evelyn's system. Dominic forbade her from working, insisting she rest in his private lounge.

Later, tea brewed from Julian's prescription arrived.

Evelyn took one sip and grimaced.

She glanced furtively at Dominic, pressing her lips together.

"It's too hot," she murmured, clutching the bowl. "I'll drink it later."

Dominic's sharp eyes caught her discomfort but said nothing as he returned to his office.

Evelyn exhaled in relief.

The moment he left, she hurried to the bathroom sink, ready to discard the bitter liquid.

"What do you think you're doing?" His voice sliced through the air.

Evelyn nearly dropped the bowl, whirling to find Dominic leaning against the doorframe.

"Nothing," she stammered.

His lips curved knowingly as she fumbled for excuses.

Heat flooded Evelyn's cheeks when he called her bluff. "It's unbearably bitter! I don't need medicine for mere shock. And medications have side effects. I'll recover naturally."

Dominic's gaze pinned her in place.

Without warning, he snatched the bowl, swallowed a mouthful, then pinned her against the wall. His hand gripped her jaw as he transferred the liquid through a searing kiss.

Evelyn's eyes widened at the assault of bitterness.

Dominic spoiled her endlessly, but never at the expense of her health.

Her face contorted in protest. 'Julian Whitmore, you'll pay for this!'

Dominic ensured every drop was consumed.

As Evelyn slumped against the bed, her wavering gaze softened Dominic's resolve.

"Julian's remedies work," he said gently. "Refuse it, and tomorrow's migraine will cripple you."

Evelyn recognized his concern but still pouted. "The bitterness is unbearable."

Suddenly, Dominic produced a candy.

Her eyes lit up, expecting the treat. Instead, he unwrapped it and popped it into his own mouth.

Before she could react, his hand cradled her head, drawing her into another kiss.

His tongue breached her lips, depositing the candy amidst lingering bitterness. The clash of flavors - herbal remedy, her unique scent, and candy sweetness - intoxicated Dominic.

Color returned to Evelyn's pale cheeks, blooming into rosy apples. Satisfied, Dominic pulled away.

"Rest now. No more work today. With Thanksgiving approaching, consider this paid leave until after the holidays."

Evelyn frowned. "I'm fine. One day's rest suffices. Year-end workloads demand attention."

"Your choice," Dominic conceded. "Sleep now. Alert me when you wake."

He tucked her in before returning to work.

The medicine's drowsiness claimed Evelyn swiftly.

She awoke at six p.m. to blinking message notifications. Propping herself up, she checked her phone.

Concerned colleagues had flooded her inbox after witnessing her ordeal. Their warmth touched her.

She replied with grateful acknowledgments.

Abigail Thornton and Olivia Kensington had messaged most frequently, their anxiety palpable. Evelyn created a group chat.

[I'm recovering well. Just needed rest. Thank you for worrying.] She added a smiley face.

The group exploded with responses.

Abigail: [You scared me half to death! My unborn baby nearly leaped out! You owe us - this child demands compensation!]

Evelyn: [I'll be its godmother. Anything it wants!]

Olivia: [What about me? My soul left my body! Where are you now?]

Evelyn: [My deepest apologies, darling. Lunch on me soon? Currently in the lounge. See you tomorrow.]

Abigail: [THE lounge? As in Dominic Blackwood's private lounge? He was furious earlier. Confess - did he ravish you in passionate revenge?]

Olivia: [Abigail! Our Evelyn's pure! Though... you do sound post-coital. Are we interrupting?]

Evelyn: [...]

Their banter continued until Evelyn recalled Beatrice's message to Dominic.

Reginald Blackwood demanded a meeting. Her good mood evaporated instantly...