Chapter 764

Theodore Winslow had many tricks up his sleeve, but even he had his limits.

Digging up dirt on Preston Sinclair? That was far beyond Theodore's reach.

But for Nathan Blackwood, it wouldn’t be a problem.

Nathan exhaled, the tension leaving his shoulders. He glanced at Theodore. "What does she like to eat? Get the ingredients. I’ll learn to cook it tonight."

As a man determined to change, Nathan held himself to high standards.

A perfect husband should excel in all things—business and home. He wanted to be flawless for Evelyn.

Every improvement was for her.

Theodore stiffened. Mr. Blackwood wants to cook again? Must he destroy another kitchen?

But he couldn’t stop him. Nathan was obsessed with this "perfect husband" persona, refusing to acknowledge his culinary disasters.

Theodore sighed.

"Yes, Mr. Blackwood. I’ll prepare everything."

Time to order new kitchenware. Again.

After Theodore left, Nathan called his private investigator in Pacifica and gave quick, precise instructions.

A knock interrupted him. He hung up, lips curving slightly.

The project manager entered, bracing himself for the worst.

"Sir, the delay is confirmed. The audit wasn’t rigorous enough. The timeline’s been pushed back a month."

A month. That disrupted Nathan’s entire schedule.

The last manager had been fired for a week’s delay.

This was four times worse.

Nathan’s gaze turned icy. The manager shuddered.

Silence stretched. The man braced for fury.

Nathan’s voice was low, chilling. "Fine. One month. Don’t let it happen again."

The manager blinked. Am I hallucinating? They said Mr. Blackwood was in a terrible mood today. Did he just… let it go?

"Thank you, sir! I’ll oversee it personally. You won’t be disappointed."

Nathan waved him off. The manager practically floated out of the office.

Harrison, Nathan’s assistant, stared as the man left—smiling. That never happened.

"Harrison, back to work!" The manager adjusted his tie, grinning, and walked off. Harrison was speechless.

Hospital

Evelyn was relieved Theodore had left.

Helpful as he was, his constant chatter gave her a headache.

She reached for her phone to tell Lucas not to bring lunch—when a knock came.

Calm. Precise.

She already knew who it was. "Come in."

Preston Sinclair stepped inside, tall and immaculate, radiating quiet elegance.

There was an innate dignity about him, impossible to ignore.

"Did I wake you?"

Evelyn smiled. "No."

He held a pink food box. "Hungry? My chef is excellent. Care to try?"

She winced apologetically. "I just ate."

Preston paused, then closed the lid.

"Then I won’t torture you."