Chapter 408

The panoramic windows of the executive office offered two breathtaking views.

To one side, the riverbank stretched thick and lush, its waters glinting under the afternoon sun.

To the other, the entire city sprawled beneath, a glittering kingdom visible from this privileged vantage point.

This wasn’t just any office—it was a throne room, and Alexander Blackwood was its undisputed king.

Evelyn Sinclair had once been banished from this space.

Her husband had barred her from entering, yet freely allowed another woman to come and go as she pleased.

The irony twisted her lips into a bitter smile as she quietly unpacked the takeout containers.

She would never tie an apron around her waist for him again. That version of her—the one who had loved him enough to cook, to serve—was gone.

Alexander, oblivious, ate with surprising enthusiasm, not questioning whether Evelyn had prepared the meal herself.

Sunlight streamed through the windows, painting golden streaks across his crisp white shirt, softening the intensity of his dark gaze.

After lunch, Evelyn excused herself to the pantry, returning with a bowl of freshly sliced fruit.

She speared a piece with a fork and lifted it to his lips.

"Is it sweet?" she asked, her voice honeyed.

Alexander nodded, his eyes never leaving her face. If only time would slow—just for this moment.

But fate had other plans. A call interrupted them, forcing him to step away.

Evelyn seized the opportunity, her fingers itching to access his computer. But a glint in the corner of the room froze her in place.

A surveillance camera.

She exhaled sharply. Too risky.

Instead, she busied herself with tidying his desk, deliberately knocking the mouse to the floor.

As she bent to retrieve it, she stole a glance at the locked screen.

No luck.

She clenched her jaw but forced herself to relax. She hadn’t come entirely empty-handed.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway—Alexander returning, but not alone.

Eleanor and William Kingsley followed him inside.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked. They knew.

If they revealed her identity now, everything would unravel.

She schooled her expression into polite indifference. "What a pleasant surprise, Mr. and Mrs. Kingsley."

Their faces lit up at the sight of her, their gazes lingering with unmistakable warmth.

To them, she was more than just a face—she was a balm to their grieving hearts.

"Miss Prescott," Eleanor greeted warmly, reaching for Evelyn’s hands.

Alexander’s brow arched.

Since when had they grown so familiar?

"Please, have a seat," he offered, gesturing to the plush chairs.

Reluctantly, Eleanor released Evelyn’s hands and settled beside her husband.

A secretary arrived with tea, then discreetly vanished.

"What brings you here today?" Alexander cut straight to the point.

Eleanor and William exchanged a glance before she spoke, her voice trembling. "Mr. Blackwood, we have… an unusual request."

"Go on."

"We were wondering," Eleanor began, her fingers tightening around her teacup, "if you might have anything left of Evelyn’s. Personal belongings, perhaps?"

Evelyn’s breath hitched. She had to stop this.

Alexander’s gaze flicked to her before returning to Eleanor. "Why?"

A tear slipped down Eleanor’s cheek. "Because we believe… Evelyn might have been our daughter."