Chapter 662

Nathan Blackwood's infuriating face was inches from Evelyn Sinclair's. Her icy gaze bore into him, devoid of any courtesy.

The moment his guard slipped, she struck.

Her knee drove hard into his injured leg.

Nathan staggered back, shock flashing across his face. She hadn’t held back. Not even a little.

Evelyn wiped her lips with the back of her hand, smearing away the faint trace of blood. Her expression remained cold, unapologetic.

She smirked. "Are you a rabid dog, Nathan? Do it again, and I’ll break more than just your leg."

Her tone was lethal. No bluff.

For once, Nathan faltered. That was his tone—the one he used to command, to intimidate. Now, it was turned against him.

Disgusted, Evelyn turned away, not sparing him another glance.

Nathan clutched his throbbing leg, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Running scared Preston will see?"

Evelyn didn’t pause. Didn’t hesitate.

His driver, who had wisely stayed in the car during the confrontation, finally scrambled out.

"Mr. Blackwood—should I call Dr. Whitmore?"

Nathan waved him off, limping into the car.

He wasn’t done. Not even close. Preston Sinclair wouldn’t marry Evelyn that easily.

"Contact Harrison," Nathan ordered. "Find out who bought the black pearl. Buy it back."

The driver nodded. That pearl belonged to Evelyn. No one else deserved it.

Evelyn slid into the passenger seat, lips still burning.

Preston, behind the wheel, glanced at her. His gaze lingered—just for a second—on her swollen mouth.

But he said nothing.

Instead, he smiled. "No documents?"

Evelyn scoffed. "Screw the documents. I’m never dealing with that bastard again."

Preston chuckled, starting the car. "Seems Mr. Blackwood is jealous."

"Seems he’s deranged," Evelyn shot back.

A beat of silence. Then—

"You still want that contract?"

Preston’s smile didn’t waver. "It’s not a priority."

Evelyn frowned, recalling Nathan’s warning. "I can get it for you."

Preston’s voice softened. "Don’t bother. Even if I had it, I wouldn’t have time. Pacifica’s waiting after New Year’s."

Evelyn’s chest tightened. "Trouble?"

"Minor. Just settling assets with some partners."

She exhaled. "Good."

Sterling Manor glittered with holiday decorations.

Lucas Sterling pushed Oliver Sinclair on the backyard swing while William Sterling boomed into his phone, arranging New Year’s guests.

The moment Evelyn and Preston stepped out, Oliver’s face lit up.

He sprinted past Preston—straight into Evelyn’s arms.

"Pretty Lady! I missed you!"

Preston, arms still half-outstretched, blinked.

His son hadn’t seen him in weeks.

And yet.

Oliver clung to Evelyn like she was the sun.

Preston sighed.

Some things never changed.