Chapter 417

Evelyn's mouth fell open as she stared at Dominic.

She had assumed Preston's accident was just that—an accident. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine it was orchestrated.

What shocked her more was discovering the ruthless side of this man who always carried himself with such refined elegance.

Evelyn thought Dominic would use his influence to ensure Preston faced legal consequences. She never expected him to arrange a car crash.

Watching him converse casually with Preston Sr. left her speechless.

Preston was Preston Sr.'s younger brother, yet Dominic spoke to him as if nothing had happened. His composure was unnerving.

If it were her, Preston Sr.'s piercing gaze would have exposed her guilt instantly.

Evelyn nervously wet her lips. "Preston and Preston Sr. are brothers. What if he finds out you caused the crash? Won't he become your enemy?"

Dominic's gaze dropped to her lips, darkening with desire.

He kissed her softly, amused by her flustered reaction. "Don't worry. I don't leave traces. Preston Sr. isn't a fool, but neither am I."

Evelyn frowned. "But you—"

Dominic simply watched her, unshaken.

Seeing his calm demeanor, she sighed. "Fine. I trust you. But this is too dangerous. Violence isn't the answer. The law should handle criminals."

Warmth spread through Dominic's chest at her concern.

He didn't argue. Instead, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Evelyn was naive. The law worked for most, but a select few operated above it—those with power, wealth, or both. Preston was one of them.

Even if convicted, the Worthington family could bail him out within days.

For men like Preston, only violence delivered true justice.

But Evelyn didn’t need to know that. His job was to keep her safe in her bubble of idealism.

The caretaker opened Preston's door for Preston Sr. and Julian. They were met with a furious roar.

"Get out! Useless! Weeks and no progress! I should shoot you all!"

A glass flew toward the door, nearly hitting Preston Sr. in the face. He caught it just in time.

Preston Sr. strode forward, expression stormy.

The room was filled with A City's top urologists, all trembling under Preston's wrath. He held a gun, barrel pointed at their heads.

Their relief was palpable when Julian entered.

Julian Whitmore was a medical genius, renowned worldwide. Eccentric and unpredictable, he refused even the wealthiest clients—unless the mood struck him.

Now, he looked amused. "All of A City's urology experts gathered here? Having a party for Second Young Master Worthington's... little problem?"

The doctors stayed silent, terrified of the gun in Preston's hand.

Preston's glare turned icy. He swung the gun toward Julian. "Who the hell are you? Dare to mock me?"

Preston Sr.'s voice cut in, authoritative. "Mind your manners. This is Dr. Whitmore, here to treat you."

Preston laughed mockingly. "Him? That pretty-faced weakling? A doctor? You're joking."

Julian remained unfazed.

Without a word, he flipped Preston's blanket aside, produced silver needles, and inserted them into precise points on Preston's groin.

A scream tore through the room.

"Ah! What did you do?! It burns! I can't move! Kill him, brother!"

Julian crossed his arms, watching impassively.

"Enough games," Preston Sr. warned.

Julian removed the needles. "I'm the only one who can fix you. Be polite, or say goodbye to ever getting it up again."

Rage burned in Preston's bloodshot eyes.

But beneath the fury, hope flickered.

If this man could cure him, he'd swallow his pride.

And Julian had proven his skill. The needles brought agony—but also something new. A warmth. A sensation he hadn't felt in months.