Chapter 508

Nathan Blackwood's footsteps echoed as he approached.

"Scram."

That single word carried an invisible weight, pressing down on Xavier Delmont like an unshakable force. Resistance was futile.

Xavier knew better than to push his luck. His face paled as he turned and fled without another word.

He might have dared to cozy up to Evelyn Sinclair again later, but offending Nathan Blackwood? Never.

Evelyn didn’t spare Xavier a second glance. She hadn’t expected much backbone from someone like him, but his retreat had been impressively swift.

With a careless flick of her hair, she turned to face Nathan, her expression unreadable.

"You scared my man away, Mr. Blackwood. Quite the accomplishment."

Nathan’s dark eyes burned with something restrained, something deep and unspoken.

Evelyn didn’t care to decipher it.

Yet she couldn’t ignore the redness at the corners of his eyes, the pallor of his lips. He looked weaker than usual, his usual commanding presence dimmed.

"I’ll make it up to you."

His voice was rough, strained.

She didn’t understand.

Nathan stepped closer, towering over her. The sorrow in his gaze was unmistakable now, raw and suffocating.

"I can make it up by giving myself to you."

Evelyn had been willing to tolerate Xavier, a man who bore Nathan’s likeness.

Why wouldn’t she take the real thing?

Watching Xavier grovel for her attention had disgusted Nathan. Yet some twisted part of him had wanted to see—would she accept someone who looked like him?

She had.

She could joke with him, tease him, indulge him—as long as it wasn’t him.

The realization made Nathan feel pathetic.

Despair wrapped around him, dragging him into darkness. He could only watch her shine, forever out of reach.

And that damned lookalike had dared to leer at her with hunger in his eyes.

Nathan couldn’t take it anymore.

Evelyn let out a soft, mocking laugh. Her gaze was glacial. "I can’t afford you."

Her voice was sweet, yet devoid of warmth.

Nathan’s jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure. But the cracks were spreading, his control crumbling.

Evelyn twisted the knife deeper. "You lied to me. Did it feel good, playing me for a fool?"

She stepped forward, relentless.

Nathan’s expression froze. The last flicker of hope in his eyes dimmed.

"I’m sorry."

Evelyn said nothing.

Nathan lifted his gaze, guilt and selfishness warring within him. "My leg had already healed when I returned from Costa Azul. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to lose the excuse to be near you. I wished it hadn’t healed. That way, I could keep seeing you."

Evelyn frowned. "Huh—"

Nathan continued, voice icy. "And I never told Tristan to run his mouth in front of Preston. He betrayed me. I won’t forgive him for that."

Just the mention of it made his blood boil.

Tristan Whitmore, his closest friend, had stabbed him in the back.

Unforgivable.

Evelyn’s lips curled into a cold smile.

After that incident, Tristan had bombarded her with endless messages, desperate to "clear Nathan’s name."

She never replied.

What was the point?

Did they really think she’d believe it now?

"Mr. Blackwood, what’s the use of saying all this?"

Evelyn was done. If she hadn’t discovered the truth about his leg, how long would he have kept up the act?

Nathan’s eyes were hollow, drowning in regret.

He had lied. And now, how could he ever make it right?

Evelyn didn’t want to look at him anymore. She walked past him without another word. Now that she didn’t have to hide, she’d stay a little longer before leaving.

Nathan watched her go, the distance between them stretching back to where they’d started—strangers.

The coldness was suffocating.

He had worked so hard to bridge that gap. He couldn’t let it all unravel now.

Nathan moved to follow her, but a frantic voice cut through the air behind him.

"Nathan! Why haven’t you been answering my calls?"

Since that night, Nathan had blocked Tristan everywhere.

He’d planned to never see him again.

But Tristan wasn’t one to wait for death. Nathan hadn’t seized his company—that had been his mercy.

They were supposed to be brothers.

Tristan, ever the social butterfly, had rushed over the moment he heard Nathan would be at Ethan Caldwell’s birthday party.

He’d never been this persistent, even when chasing women.

By the time Nathan turned, Evelyn was already gone.

A suffocating rage coiled in his chest as he glared at Tristan.

Maybe he’d been too lenient.

Tristan, dressed in his usual playboy attire, grinned nervously. "Nathan, did you accidentally block me?"

What a pathetic excuse.

Nathan’s response was icy. "Get lost."

Tristan gritted his teeth but pressed on. "I already explained everything to Evelyn! I didn’t mean to—she had my nudes, for God’s sake!"

He lowered his voice at the end, as if that made it better.

Nathan’s glare could have frozen hell. "So I’m supposed to pay for your mistake?"

Tristan hesitated. "I was trying to drive a wedge between Preston and Evelyn for you. It backfired, but—"

He faltered.

Nathan wasn’t interested in excuses.

Evelyn stood on the balcony, the breeze cool against her skin. Below, the party continued, oblivious.

Her fingers curled around a wine glass, elegant and poised. The sight left the person beside her momentarily speechless.

Ethan Caldwell smiled, following her gaze.

"I’m sorry. I didn’t think Adrian would invite people you’d rather avoid."

Evelyn shrugged. "It’s your birthday. As long as you’re happy."

Besides, even without Adrian, Nathan had the means to go wherever he pleased.

After a brief exchange, a waiter approached, struggling under the weight of an enormous bouquet of roses.

He was making a spectacle of himself.

Evelyn’s lips twitched in irritation as she stood there, unmoving.

The waiter finally peeked out from behind the flowers, face flushed, and handed her a small card tucked among the blooms.

"Ms. Sinclair, this is for you."

Evelyn took it without protest.

Her eyes skimmed the message:

[Dear Ms. Sinclair, May I invite you to dinner tonight? I’ll be waiting downstairs. —Xavier.]

She double-checked the signature.

Yes, it was Xavier—the same man who had fled from Nathan moments ago.