Chapter 858

Nathan's expression darkened instantly, a chilling aura radiating from him.

He turned sharply, his piercing gaze locking onto Preston.

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Nathan studied Preston like a predator sizing up its rival—alert, dangerous, brimming with lethal intent.

Preston met his stare. His smile remained warm, though his eyes flickered with something unreadable.

"What a coincidence. You're here too, Mr. Blackwood?"

They hadn't crossed paths since Nathan had discreetly sabotaged Preston's business dealings online.

Evelyn glanced between them, sensing the tension. Why had Preston shown up now?

Emily emerged from the corridor, waving casually. "Has Mr. Sinclair come to pick you up? He just called—"

Ah. So it was Emily.

Zachary Whitmore hadn't anticipated this confrontation in his gym. Did I just make things worse?

Nathan's eyes darkened, the air around him turning frigid.

Preston Sinclair was the man he despised most. Evelyn pressed her lips together and stepped forward.

"You're still here, Mr. Sinclair?"

"I was hoping to take you to dinner."

Preston smiled, effortlessly taking the bag from her hand—a casual, intimate gesture, as if he had every right to carry it for her.

The sight stabbed straight through Nathan's chest. His breath hitched. Had they gotten this close?

Evelyn hadn't agreed, but refusing now would be a public humiliation. She forced a smile and moved to leave—only for Nathan to seize her wrist. His grip was iron-tight.

She looked up into his stormy eyes, his jaw clenched, his expression unreadable.

"What is he to you?"

The question was raw, demanding. He already knew the answer would destroy him.

His blood burned with fury as he glared at Preston. The air thickened with hostility.

Preston's calm demeanor never wavered. His quiet confidence made him Nathan's equal in this silent war.

"I doubt you'd like the answer, Mr. Blackwood."

The words were a blade sliding between ribs.

Preston wasn't lying—but he wasn't telling the truth either. He was twisting the knife, watching Nathan unravel.

Delicious.

Evelyn's eyes widened. She opened her mouth to clarify—then stopped.

The silence stretched, suffocating.

She expected Nathan to snap. Instead, he released her.

His face was ice. His voice, rough and low.

"Dry your hair before you go. It's cold outside."

Evelyn froze.

Then, with one last scorching look at Preston, he turned and left. Zachary scrambled after him, not daring to linger.

Evelyn stared at his retreating figure. Something sharp twisted in her chest.

A dull, persistent ache.

What was that supposed to mean?

Preston's expression darkened briefly before smoothing over.

Emily, quick to react, grabbed a towel and began drying Evelyn's hair.

"It is chilly out."

Evelyn's face paled before she regained her composure.