Chapter 752

Nathan's pupils contracted violently as Preston chuckled.

"Mr. Blackwood, she's resting inside. You'd better not disturb her."

It was a direct hit to the most vulnerable spot. Nathan had one glaring weakness—Evelyn.

Preston knew full well Nathan had never let go of Evelyn. So he deliberately dredged up their painful past, hammering home the fact that Nathan didn't deserve her.

Preston prided himself on being a gentleman, but in the cutthroat world of business, chivalry was nothing more than a luxury afforded by those at the very top.

He had clawed his way up from the depths of Wall Street. There was nothing he hadn't seen, nothing he couldn't handle.

Nathan's earlier ambush had caught him off guard. But if Nathan wanted another round, Preston was more than ready to retaliate—properly this time.

The taunt ignited something dark in Nathan. Without hesitation, his fist connected with Preston's face. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

Preston crumpled to the floor.

Blood loss had left him weak. The brutal punch sent his vision swimming, his body teetering on the edge of consciousness. He was already at his limit.

A passing nurse shrieked at the sight.

Preston lay gasping, his breaths shallow and uneven.

The door across the hall swung open. Evelyn appeared in her wheelchair, her expression shifting from shock to fury in an instant. "Nathan Blackwood!"

Nathan's fist froze mid-air. The air thickened with tension.

Doctors and nurses swarmed around Preston. His face was ghostly pale, blood smeared across his lips, his usual composed demeanor shattered. He looked fragile—like a gust of wind could snuff him out.

No one dared intervene. Not after hearing the name Evelyn had just screamed.

Nathan Blackwood.

Nathan straightened slowly, his dark eyes locking onto Evelyn. The crimson in his irises hadn't faded, the storm within them still raging.

He saw it all—the shock, the anger, the disgust. All of it directed at him.

It felt like a jagged hook had ripped through his chest, leaving behind a gaping, bloody wound.

Evelyn wheeled herself forward, bypassing Nathan entirely. Her gaze was fixed on Preston, now being stabilized by the medical team.

"How is he?"

The doctor didn’t dare move Preston too much. His tone was grave.

"Severe blood loss prior to this incident. The punch likely caused a concussion. We’ll need further tests to assess potential brain complications from oxygen deprivation."

He turned to a nurse, voice low. "Prep the stretcher and imaging suite. Minimal movement."

Within seconds, the stretcher arrived.

Preston lay motionless, his lips colorless, his handsome features alarmingly fragile. One wrong move, and he might slip away entirely.

Evelyn’s chest tightened.

A single punch shouldn’t have done this. But he’d given too much—for her.

She knew that weakness intimately. The dizziness, the exhaustion, the way the world tilted beneath your feet.

And now, Preston was paying the price.

The medical team whisked him away, leaving Evelyn and Nathan alone.

When their eyes met, the unspoken tension between them thickened.

Evelyn lowered her lashes, her voice icy. "Why are you here?"

Nathan opened his mouth—

But she cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Oh, right. To assault people."