Chapter 781

Evelyn Sinclair was just about to call out for her third brother when her wheelchair suddenly jerked to a stop—thirty centimeters from the ground.

Someone had caught it from behind.

Strong arms wrapped around her, lifting both her and the wheelchair effortlessly. She didn’t need to look up. The scent of smoke and the cold, tense aura told her everything.

This wasn’t someone from Sterling Manor. No one here would dare ambush her like this.

A second later, she was set down gently on the pavement, the wheelchair settled smoothly beside her.

Then she saw him.

Nathan Blackwood.

His face was inches from hers, his expression unreadable.

Had he really been so impatient waiting outside that he’d resorted to breaking in?

The butler and guards at the gate had already noticed his intrusion and were rushing over.

"Miss Sinclair—"

Evelyn raised a hand, silencing them. The butler understood immediately and signaled the others to retreat.

Nathan’s eyes were bloodshot, his complexion haggard. The faint scent of smoke clung to him, making him look even more worn.

He dropped to one knee in front of her, his gaze intense.

"Evelyn. We need to talk."

He’d waited outside long enough to know she wouldn’t see him willingly.

But he refused to leave without making things clear. If he didn’t explain now, it would truly be over between them.

So he’d slipped past the guards, scaled an unguarded section of the wall, and jumped down.

Nathan was ex-military, trained in combat. Otherwise, the fall alone would have killed him—or at least gotten him caught.

But he’d made it just in time to catch Evelyn before she hit the ground.

Seeing her momentarily vulnerable, trapped in that wheelchair, made his chest tighten.

Evelyn’s eyes were icy, but her smile remained polite, detached.

"Mr. Blackwood. Since when do you enter through the walls instead of the front door?"

What kind of rogue behavior was this?

Nathan’s jaw clenched. His gaze was heavy, conflicted.

"I just needed to speak to you. Face to face."

"Go ahead."

Evelyn smirked, waiting. She wanted to hear what excuse he’d come up with this time.

The words burned on his tongue, but he didn’t know where to start.

"I’m sorry about yesterday."

Her brows lifted. "Sorry for what?"

She was playing dumb. Nathan frowned. "You don’t know?"

"Know what? Oh—my phone broke. Did you try calling?"

She blinked, all innocence.

For a moment, the tension in his shoulders eased slightly. "I thought… you were angry."

Evelyn’s crystal-clear eyes darkened.

"Angry? The public is tearing Preston Sinclair apart. Why should I be angry?"

She wanted him to feel the full weight of his actions—wanted him to squirm in shame when he least expected it.

Nathan stiffened. His expression turned grim.

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face. "You already knew. Of course you did."

She’d been pretending ignorance just to mess with him.

Evelyn scoffed. "Mr. Blackwood. Are you disappointed your little scheme didn’t work? I have to admit—I didn’t expect you to resort to something so underhanded."

The damage had been minimal, but the sheer audacity disgusted her.

Nathan’s face was stone. His dark brows furrowed with frustration.

"I never meant to drag you into this. Yes, I orchestrated the morning incident—but the one at night wasn’t me."

His voice was rough, uncertain. Would she believe him?

"I wouldn’t involve you like that. I just wanted to send Preston a warning."