Chapter 288

Winifred presented all the 'evidence' she had gathered against Evelyn with dramatic flair, because that was simply her nature.

Felix saw right through her charade.

Winifred's poisonous words began influencing Rachel. Though part of her resisted believing Winifred's claims, she couldn't deny how little she truly knew about Evelyn - not even basic facts like her having children.

And Mr. Goldmann...

Could Evelyn really be the person Winifred described? Was Felix keeping his distance because he knew something about Evelyn's past?

"Think about it, Rachel," Winifred pressed, her voice dripping with false concern. "If she truly considered you a friend, why would she hide so much from you? Why keep defending someone who doesn't trust you?"

The words struck a chord with Rachel's already wavering resolve.

She had genuinely considered Evelyn a friend, yet the woman had shared virtually nothing about her personal life. What kind of friendship was built on such secrecy?

Meanwhile, in the private dining area, Evelyn stared at the lavish spread covering the entire table, with the personal chef standing attentively behind Nathan. If not for the military tents visible through the windows, she might have thought herself in a five-star restaurant. The contrast with her standard-issue meal box was almost comical.

Nathan rested his chin on one hand, watching her with amusement. "I had these specially prepared for you. You've lost too much weight - time to replenish those nutrients." As he spoke, a bodyguard discreetly removed her meager meal box while another pulled out a chair for her.

Evelyn sat slowly, eyeing the feast. "Nathan, this is enough food for an entire platoon."

His expression turned playfully wounded. "It breaks my heart seeing you so thin."

Truthfully, the camp's terrible food had whittled away his beautiful wife's curves. What if she became too weak to defend herself against all these vipers?

Evelyn could only sigh at his dramatics.

Nathan had perfected the art of looking innocent. Once the chef and bodyguards withdrew, he laced his fingers together, resting his chin on them as he watched her eat with visible delight.

"Why are you staring?" Evelyn asked, suddenly self-conscious. She dabbed at her mouth, checking for stray crumbs.

His lips curved. "Tomorrow's the shooting assessment. Nervous?"

The evaluation consisted of two parts: slow fire and rapid fire. The slow fire segment required sixty precise shots at fifty yards - the farthest standard distance with the smallest bullseye diameter. Total points determined the final score.

It was the most demanding test of accuracy in marksmanship, and arguably the most crucial evaluation.

For someone who'd never handled firearms before, passing both assessments seemed nearly impossible - especially with the added pressure of rapid fire.

Evelyn pursed her lips, avoiding his gaze. "Nothing to worry about. Maybe I'll get lucky."

Nathan chuckled. "Zoe, you wouldn't be here if you weren't confident." When she hesitated, he added, "You hate losing, don't you?"

Then his tone shifted. "Who gave you that self-defense ring? The same person who trained you?"

His piercing gaze demanded answers.

Her mother had been a de Arma. Miranda had connections to Morwich's elite circles. The pieces fit together too neatly.

Moreover, Edmund Lincoln clearly held Evelyn in high regard. It wasn't difficult to deduce he'd been the one to teach her those impressive combat skills.