Chapter 371

The aroma of roasted rosemary chicken filled the air as Evelyn set the dining table. Her fingers paused mid-air, remembering the afternoon conversation with Edmund. The silver fork slipped from her grasp, clattering against the porcelain plate.

The sound snapped her back to reality.

Nathan wasn't downstairs.

She climbed the spiral staircase, her silk robe whispering against the marble steps. The study door stood ajar, revealing Nathan's tense profile illuminated by the desk lamp.

"Engine malfunction? You're certain?" His voice was sharp as shattered crystal.

Evelyn's outstretched hand froze.

What engine failure?

"Mr. Whitmore hasn't regained consciousness?"

"I understand."

"Coordinate with the investigators. Check their recent communications and bank transactions."

Nathan turned abruptly, catching Evelyn in the doorway. The lamplight carved shadows beneath his eyes. "Zoe, you—"

"I heard everything." Her voice remained steady as a metronome. "The Whitmores had an accident?"

His hands settled on her shoulders, warm anchors in the gathering storm. "Police are investigating. Oliver's handling our inquiry."

Evelyn's lashes cast spiderweb shadows across her cheeks. The Whitmores' faces flashed behind her eyelids—their nervous twitches, the way Mrs. Whitmore had clutched her pearls.

Gone. Just like that.

"Mr. Whitmore survived." Nathan's thumb traced her collarbone. "Clever bastard left breadcrumbs when they took him. That's how Harrison's team found him in time."

Her pulse jumped beneath his touch. "Rosalind?"

"Alibi confirmed." Ice crystallized in his tone. "Two suspects fled, but they won't get far. I've had the city sealed."

Evelyn's nails bit into her palms. "Do they know he's alive?"

Nathan tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Rosalind thinks they're both dead. Only our inner circle knows the truth."

The grandfather clock ticked like a countdown.

"You knew." Evelyn's accusation hung between them. "And weren't going to tell me."

His exhale stirred her hair. "The accident happened hours after your visit. I wanted to shield you."

A hollow laugh escaped her. "I threatened them to smoke out their puppet master. Never imagined—"

Nathan's embrace swallowed her words. His lips brushed her crown. "Not your fault. Their employer was always going to silence them. Whitmore must've realized the trap."

She tilted her head up. "Regretted it?"

"Enough to leave clues." His breath warmed her temple. "He didn't trust them. Found something that scared him."

The puzzle pieces shifted behind Evelyn's eyes.

Of course. The Whitmores were disposable pawns. But Mr. Whitmore turned the tables—too late to save his wife.

Her fingers curled into Nathan's shirt. "If they learn he survived..."

"They'll come for him." Nathan's grip tightened. "Which makes him our best bait."

A spark ignited in Evelyn's gaze. She rose onto her toes, arms encircling his neck. "Then let's make sure the puppet master knows their puppet still breathes. Nothing panics a killer like a witness who won't stay dead."