Chapter 632

Harrison's lips twitched as he studied Nathan's expression. The words nearly slipped out—"Mr. Blackwood, you're overthinking this."

Based on his understanding of Evelyn Sinclair, she'd rather throw money at a problem than deal with unnecessary complications.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. Better to agree. The boss was always right.

His phone buzzed with an urgent message from the manager of San Francisco's most exclusive shopping center.

Help! Look what I just walked into—

Attached were two photos and a video. The first showed a receipt signed Evelyn Sinclair with her account details. The second captured Evelyn standing beside a man whose back was turned. The video? A fifteen-second clip of them playing a duet on a grand piano.

Harrison's stomach dropped.

Please don't let that be THE Evelyn Sinclair—the one our CEO can't stop obsessing over.

The caption confirmed his worst fear: Just won the couples' jackpot—$50 million. My quarterly bonus is officially doomed.

The man beside her? Preston Sinclair.

Wall Street's most notorious playboy.

Harrison's gaze flicked to Nathan, who stood motionless by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Dread coiled in his chest.

This is bad.

Nathan's phone pinged. Harrison watched as his CEO scrolled through a flood of notifications—some public social media posts tagging Evelyn and Preston, others private messages sent directly to Nathan.

One stood out: a glittering skyline photo of San Francisco with Thank you emblazoned across it in bold gold letters.

Nathan typed a reply. Did you use Evelyn's name for this, Ferg?

The response came instantly. Haha.

Nathan's fingers moved again. Congratulations. Motherhood suits you.

Harrison blinked. Was that... gratitude?

Since when did Nathan Blackwood acknowledge anyone's existence, let less respond with something resembling humor?

The CEO continued replying to every message with uncharacteristic patience.

Harrison exhaled slowly.

This isn't just bad.

This is a Category 5 hurricane about to make landfall.