Chapter 534

Evelyn Sinclair pressed her lips together, withdrawing her hand instinctively. "It doesn't hurt anymore."

She studied Preston Sinclair's face, the faint irritation in his expression making the conflict in her chest dissolve.

Oliver Sinclair had reminded her—Preston was an extraordinary man. Of course, countless people would orbit around him. Evelyn knew nothing about him except the whispers of his late ex-wife. How could she entertain thoughts of him like some naive schoolgirl?

She straightened her posture and returned to her senses, refusing to linger.

Preston set down the first-aid kit with deliberate precision. With Evelyn present, he couldn't reprimand his son as he wanted. So he maintained a composed smile—one that held no warmth.

His gaze shifted back to her, patient but distant. "That's impossible. My family physician in Pacifica was notoriously unreliable. I had to learn first aid out of necessity."

Evelyn offered a polite, detached smile. "Really, it's fine. The ointment worked wonders."

Preston stiffened, lowering his head briefly before meeting her eyes again, his expression unreadable. He picked up the ointment casually. "I'll go get your coat."

"You seem very prepared, Mr. Sinclair."

"I have a child. Preparedness is mandatory." His tone was light, but the pointed glance he shot Oliver carried a silent warning.

Oliver stuck out his tongue and ducked behind Evelyn. He wasn’t blind—he’d noticed his father’s sharp attitude toward the woman he adored. If this kept up, he’d be stuck with a stepmother he didn’t want!

After dinner, Evelyn made her exit.

Preston insisted on driving her back to Sterling Manor, stopping a respectful distance away. The night air was crisp, the glow of streetlights stretching their shadows across the pavement.

"Don’t worry about the media or the stock market," Preston said. "Nothing will escalate until the investigation concludes."

"Thank you."

"You’ve thanked me enough."

Evelyn met his eyes. "Mr. Sinclair, there’s a piece of land in the Capital. Are you interested?"

His gaze darkened, his expression tightening. "What are you implying?"

"As repayment."

A repayment that would sever whatever fragile connection existed between them.

Preston exhaled slowly, the silence stretching between them.

"Ms. Sterling," he murmured, "chasing you is difficult enough. But not chasing you? That’s even harder."

Evelyn lifted her chin, meeting his unwavering stare. His smile was faint, blending into the night, his voice firm.

"Forget the land. A night like this is far more valuable."

After Preston left, Evelyn stepped inside, her emotions settling into stillness. She removed her coat and heels, heading to wash up when her phone buzzed.

Preston: [Chasing you is hard. Not chasing you is harder. Sweet dreams.]

She read it but didn’t reply.

The next message was from Nathan Blackwood. [Evelyn, there’s a package for you at home. Should I—]

She typed back without hesitation. [No. Throw it out.]

Then she powered off her phone and prepared for bed.

The next morning, Evelyn arrived at the office early, her mind still fixated on the autopilot incident. Time was running out.

Emily Whitaker had been sent to Europe—a decision that eased Evelyn’s concerns. Emily was an expert.

But insider reports suggested European regulators were considering pulling the AI chip from the market. The situation was growing dire.

During the video conference, both Evelyn and Nathan participated.

The meeting room was frigid, the air conditioning set too low. Nathan noticed Evelyn’s thin dress and moved to drape his suit jacket over her shoulders.

She didn’t flinch. "I don’t want it. Save your chivalry."

Nathan and the others in the room fell silent.