Chapter 7

Evelyn left.

Dominic abruptly dropped the blueprint he'd been studying. He pushed away from his workstation and strode toward the wine cabinet instead. Selecting a crystal glass, he filled it halfway and downed the contents in one swift motion, his brow furrowed.

This damn desire.

It was late when Evelyn finally left the company, but luckily, the last subway was still running.

The moment she got home, she replied to Nathan’s messages.

Then she pulled out her suitcase and started packing for her business trip the next day.

Her phone rang.

Nathan’s name flashed on the screen.

"Aren’t you asleep yet? I told you to rest early," Evelyn said, concern lacing her voice.

"Still working. Brought files back to the hotel," Nathan replied. Then, "I saw your text. Why are you traveling? Who’s going with you?"

"Not sure yet. I’ll find out tomorrow," she answered.

"If there are men in the group, keep your distance," Nathan warned. "We barely know these people."

"Got it."

A loud banging noise cut through the call—sharp, insistent, like someone trying to break down a door.

Evelyn tensed. "What’s happening?"

"N-Nothing." Nathan’s voice wavered. "I’ll check outside and call you back."

The line went dead before she could tell him to be careful.

She stared at her half-packed suitcase, then at her darkened phone screen. Worry gnawed at her. Nathan was in an unfamiliar city, surrounded by strangers.

Nothing happened that night.

The next morning, her phone buzzed—a colleague calling to confirm their departure.

Evelyn waited outside her apartment complex, exhaustion weighing on her. She’d stayed up half the night waiting for Nathan’s call.

It never came.

She tried calling him. His phone was off.

Fifteen minutes later, a sleek Bentley pulled up. Two colleagues stepped out—a man and a woman. Introductions were quick, and soon they were back in the car.

The drive to H City took seven hours. The company had arranged for the Bentley to be driven there for convenience.

Evelyn chatted with her colleagues, laughter filling the car.

By afternoon, they arrived.

At the hotel, her female colleague, Abigail, suggested, "Let’s freshen up and rest. We’ll meet for dinner."

Evelyn nodded.

She hauled her luggage upstairs, showered, and changed into loungewear. Then she ironed her work clothes, hanging them neatly.

Glancing at the clock—4 PM.

Still no word from Nathan.

She called him.

This time, his phone was on. But it rang endlessly.

She tried again. This time, he rejected the call.

A text popped up: "Busy. Can’t talk. Will call later."

Evelyn sighed in relief. At least he was safe. Maybe last night’s disturbance had just been a drunk guest.

She replied, "Okay, focus on your work."

She set her phone down—then it buzzed again.

A WeChat message from Nathan. But the words were jumbled nonsense: "Hahaha fiber mesh entrance fee iFeng—"

Evelyn frowned.

"?" she sent back.

A minute later, he replied: "Arm bumped the screen while drawing."

She dismissed it.

Then—ding dong—the doorbell rang.

Evelyn tensed. "Who is it?"

A man’s voice answered. "Miss Sinclair, I’m Sebastian Whitmore, Mr. Blackwood’s assistant. May I trouble you to open the door?"

Sebastian Whitmore—Dominic’s right-hand man. Everyone at the company knew him.

Evelyn opened the door.

"Nice to meet—" Her greeting froze as she spotted two small children beside him.

A boy and a girl, their eyes bright, smiles dazzling. Like perfect little dolls.

Sebastian stood stiffly in his suit. "These are Mr. Blackwood’s children. He’s occupied, so—"

Evelyn’s stomach dropped.

She wasn’t against babysitting, but this felt… off. She was here to work, not play nanny.

And seeing other people’s kids always reminded her of her own.

"I’ll be good," the little girl piped up, blinking up at Evelyn with big, dark eyes.

She nudged her brother. "Big Brother—"

The boy, slightly taller, kept his cool expression but softened for his sister. "I’ll behave too."

Sebastian checked his watch. "I’ll leave them with you, Miss Sinclair. Urgent matters to attend to."

Before Evelyn could protest, he was gone.

She looked down at the kids. "Come in."

The girl grabbed her brother’s hand, and they marched inside.

"Want something to drink?" Evelyn asked awkwardly.

"Milk," the girl chirped, perching on the couch.

Evelyn dug out the hotel’s overpriced milk—89 yuan for what cost 3.50 at a store. She poured two glasses.

The boy didn’t touch his.

The girl gulped hers down, even licking her lips after.

Evelyn sat stiffly, searching for conversation. "Are you twins?"

The boy rolled his eyes. "Obviously."

His look said it all: Idiot. Look at us.