Chapter 859

Evelyn's hand hovered midair, about to take the towel herself. Preston Sinclair moved closer with his usual composed grace. "Allow me." His voice carried its typical warmth.

Yet Evelyn felt no comfort from his presence.

She instinctively stepped back. Emily Whitaker tightened her grip on the towel. "I'll handle this. I've got more experience drying hair." Preston's lips pressed into a thin line.

Ten minutes later.

With Evelyn's hair now dry, Zachary Whitmore entered. "Ms. Sterling, you're always welcome here—"

Evelyn offered a polite smile. "My friend holds an annual membership. Please ensure she receives excellent service."

"Absolutely, without question."

Beads of sweat dotted Zachary's forehead like pearls, yet he maintained his professional smile through obvious discomfort. Such dedication.

"You should see a doctor," Evelyn advised. "A dislocated shoulder typically heals within two days of proper rest."

Zachary's smile faltered momentarily, guilt flashing across his features.

He'd intended to go easy on her during their sparring session. Yet this delicate-looking woman had dislocated his shoulder with effortless precision.

The humiliation burned.

As the trio exited the facility, Preston noticed Evelyn's distant expression. His eyes darkened as he opened the car door. Evelyn paused. "I need to drop Emily at the office first. You should return to work, Mr. Sinclair."

Preston froze. He wasn't oblivious—her sudden withdrawal was palpable.

Emily happily slid into Evelyn's passenger seat, perfectly in sync with her rhythm.

Preston's expression shifted. "Are you angry?"

Evelyn met his gaze evenly. Angry? Why would she be upset about Preston deliberately provoking Nathan? Logically, she and Preston shared aligned interests.

Yet discomfort coiled in her chest.

She smiled. "Why would I be?"

"Because I intentionally let Mr. Blackwood misunderstand our relationship." Preston's blunt admission hung between them.

Didn't this imply Evelyn still harbored feelings for Nathan?

Wasn't her irritation proof that Preston's manipulation had struck a nerve?

If she didn't care, why react at all?

Evelyn's smile turned frosty.

"Mr. Sinclair, Nathan and I are history. There's no need for third-party validation. What bothers me is you using me as leverage against him."

She wasn't naive. She recognized the game.

If this were merely about their respective relationships, Preston wouldn't have disregarded her feelings. This was revenge.

Even the most perfect individuals harbored flaws—selfishness, emotions. Preston still resented Nathan for manipulating public opinion against him years prior. He'd simply been waiting for an opportunity.

And Nathan's only vulnerability? Evelyn.

Preston had assumed she wouldn't notice. That she'd play along.

But her perception cut sharper than he'd anticipated, slicing through his carefully constructed facade to expose the pettiness beneath.

Preston's expression contorted with uncharacteristic conflict.

Then Evelyn's face softened into genuine warmth, dissolving the tension. "It's fine. After all our history, it's natural we'd use each other occasionally. I haven't forgotten all your support."

Preston's head snapped up. Her smile shone brilliantly, revealing no trace of anger.

Her tone remained gentle, eyes sincere. "Don't dwell on it. Nathan doesn't define my boundaries. Goodbye, Mr. Sinclair."

Preston visibly stiffened. His dark gaze burned into her retreating figure.

Nathan wasn't her limit—but Preston had attempted to cross it.

She was too damn perceptive.

Instant regret flooded him. The fragile trust he'd painstakingly built, eroded in one careless moment.

His knuckles whitened around the car door, jaw tightening as shadows gathered in his expression.