Chapter 86

"What did you just say?"

Evelyn's face froze.

Beatrice must be joking.

Perhaps that woman truly despised her to the core and wanted to tear Dominic away from her. But this?

This was beyond absurd.

"I said, you're my daughter. Was I unclear?" Beatrice lifted her coffee cup, took a sip, and met Evelyn's gaze with an icy stare.

"Which means you can't be with Dominic."

Evelyn's hands clenched beneath the table, her palms slick with sweat.

She had never told Beatrice about losing her birth mother as a child. How does she know? Did Dominic tell her?

Her mind spun.

She remembered Beatrice was the mistress who destroyed Margaret Lockwood's marriage to Edmund. The woman who stole another woman's husband and took her place.

Growing up, Evelyn had heard the whispers—how her mother ran off with a wealthy man who could give her a better life.

The pieces fit.

But so what if they did?

The world was full of women who became mistresses. That didn’t make Beatrice her mother.

Evelyn shook her head violently. No. She refused to believe it.

Beatrice struck again, aiming for the weakest point. "Eve, I never asked your father's name until you told me your surname was Sinclair. That day, the moment you said it, I knew."

Her voice was eerily calm. "I thought you knew. I thought you were seducing Dominic to punish me for abandoning you and your father."

A twisted smile flickered across Beatrice's face before vanishing.

"But it seems you had no idea. You weren’t with him for revenge."

Evelyn couldn’t breathe. This felt like the day the doctors said her father had liver cancer—a truth too cruel to accept.

"Stop lying," she hissed. "This is pathetic. Only a child would fall for this."

"Pathetic?" Beatrice arched a brow. "Do you think I became Mrs. Blackwood by spouting nonsense?"

Evelyn faltered.

Beatrice had schemed her way into Edmund’s life and secured her position as the Blackwood matriarch. A woman like that didn’t need cheap lies.

And Dominic—sharp, calculating Dominic—would see through any deception.

The realization hit like a blade.

Her body turned to ice.

Was Beatrice really her mother?

Evelyn sat paralyzed, struggling to steady her racing heart. After ten minutes, she gave up. She grabbed her bag and stood.

"Wait." Beatrice’s voice cut through the air.

Evelyn froze.

Beatrice tossed cash onto the table, then strode over, her heels clicking against the floor. "Get a grip. Handle this like an adult. And for God’s sake, don’t drag Dominic down with you."

Evelyn looked up, tears blurring her vision.

Beatrice stood composed, as if she’d just commented on the weather. No guilt. No remorse.

Was this woman truly her mother?

Evelyn wiped her face. Why had she expected anything else? A mother who abandoned her infant wouldn’t suddenly grow a heart.

The taxi ride to Paramount Hospital was a blur.

Evelyn sobbed silently, her tears falling unchecked.

Images flashed—Dominic in high school, tall and untouchable. Dominic interviewing her, asking strange, personal questions. Dominic confessing his love, claiming he was finally free to be with her.

Dominic’s hands on her skin.

Her stomach twisted.

"Miss, are you okay?" The driver eyed her warily.

She didn’t answer.

At the hospital entrance, Beatrice caught up, gripping her arm. "Pull yourself together. Unless you want your father to drop dead from shock."

Evelyn yanked free, glaring.

Then her phone rang.

Dominic’s name flashed on the screen.

Her hands shook. She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t speak.

The tears kept coming.