Chapter 826
Preston smiled apologetically and moved to shut the door, blocking Evelyn's view.
"I didn't want to give this on Oliver's behalf—I was afraid it might scare you," he admitted. "But Oliver insisted on surprising you."
Evelyn's face paled. "That wasn't a surprise."
She silently thanked her strong constitution for not giving her a heart attack.
Preston looked genuinely remorseful. He stepped forward, wrapping his arms around her in a gentle embrace before releasing her and guiding her by the wrist into the living room.
"Argus, a glass of warm water, please." Evelyn still seemed shaken.
Had he known her reaction would be this severe, he never would have brought her here.
A sleek, cylindrical white robot—standing about five feet tall—glided over, offering her the water.
"Dearest, please drink."
Evelyn blinked. Dearest?
The robot tilted its head slightly, as if processing her hesitation. "Yes, you are Evelyn Dearest. Please drink."
It recognizes me?
Preston intercepted the glass, shooting the robot a pointed look. "Go charge elsewhere."
The machine obediently turned and retreated.
Evelyn frowned. That form of address... it didn't sit right with her.
"This robot—" Evelyn Dearest?
Preston cleared his throat, his cheeks tinged pink. "Apologies. I shouldn't have invited you before finishing the system setup. The robot registers close contacts for faster response times. Sometimes, the phrasing it uses can be... overly familiar."
He conveniently left out the part where he had programmed her in as "the woman I love."
The robot, unfortunately, had no filter.
Evelyn drained the glass, then stood with a tight smile. "It's getting late. I should head back. As for that gift—I really can't accept it. Will Oliver be upset if I return it?"
She was doing her best to ignore the robot's unsettling behavior, focusing instead on the more immediate problem—the crocodile.
Preston shook his head firmly. "Don't worry. I warned him not everyone shares his tastes. If you don't want it, I'll arrange for a professional handler to take it."
He had zero intention of keeping a carnivorous reptile in his penthouse.
Evelyn nodded vigorously. Good. I'd rather receive a bouquet of funeral flowers.
Preston escorted her out, apologizing again. His regret was palpable.
Once inside her car, Evelyn exhaled in relief.
She wasn't petty. She'd forgive him—and pretend this never happened.
Some memories were better left buried.
Meanwhile, the hotel celebration had ended.
Guests posted group photos, sparking nostalgia among fans of the variety show.
But what truly set elite circles buzzing wasn't the reunion—it was a short, explosive clip.
Tristan Whitmore, once furious, now stood humbled before Evelyn, bowing slightly as he apologized.
"It was a slip of the tongue. I'm sorry, Evelyn. I was too impulsive. Please forgive me."
Her response was ice-calm. "I'll forgive you this once, Mr. Whitmore. Choose your words more carefully next time."
Two sentences.
That was all it took to send speculation spiraling.
What had forced Tristan's sudden humility?
And just how dangerous was Evelyn Sinclair's quiet threat?