Chapter 864

Nathan froze for a split second before snapping into action. He scooped Evelyn up in his arms without hesitation.

Evelyn's anger flared hotter.

Being carried bridal style was bad enough, but this position made her feel completely exposed!

She curled into his chest, fuming. "Just give me your jacket. I can walk on my own!"

Nathan tightened his grip. "No. I'm cold too."

He wasn't letting go.

This was his chance—to hold her, to keep her close.

Evelyn wanted to scream.

At this point, passing out from pain or sheer frustration would be a mercy.

She clenched her jaw, lips pressed into a thin line. Her face had gone ghostly pale.

Once she got through this, Nathan Blackwood was a dead man.

No one noticed the faint smirk tugging at Nathan's lips.

They didn't return to the party.

Nathan carried her straight to his car, refusing to set her down even for a second.

Evelyn's stomach twisted violently. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead as her vision blurred.

Normally, she took her medication in advance. This time, she hadn't been prepared.

Her consciousness flickered in and out.

Through half-lidded eyes, she studied Nathan's sharp profile. His expression was tense, almost... concerned.

Hah. What an actor.

Sterling Manor was at least twenty minutes away. Yet, within ten, the car screeched to a halt.

She was lifted again, carried into an elevator.

Even in her dazed state, she knew this wasn't Highland Estates. The place looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. Probably one of Nathan's many properties.

When he set her on the sofa, she was barely breathing. He pressed a hand to her forehead.

Evelyn forced her eyes open. "Not a fever. Give me my phone. I'll call someone to pick me up."

Nathan's jaw tightened. He didn't move.

After a tense silence, he turned and walked out.

Evelyn bit her lip, fighting to stay conscious. The penthouse was spacious, all sleek grays and cold metals—classic Nathan. Spotless, too. Clearly maintained by a cleaning service.

She dragged in a shaky breath and forced herself upright. Hand pressed to her stomach, she staggered toward the door.

She wasn't dying here. That bastard Nathan could've just taken her to a hospital.

After mentally cursing him for the hundredth time, she finally reached the exit.

She pushed the door open—

And froze.

The hallway looked... familiar.

Especially the two potted chrysanthemums across the way. They looked exactly like the ones Oliver had given her—the ones she'd refused to keep inside.

Heart pounding, she stumbled toward the door opposite.

With trembling fingers, she punched in the code.

The lock clicked open.

Her stomach dropped.

This was her apartment.

Nathan Blackwood had been living right across from her this whole time?

No time to process that. She rushed inside, grabbed her painkillers, and dry-swallowed two.

Collapsing onto the couch, she waited for the agony to fade.

Once the pain dulled, she dragged herself to the bathroom to clean up, then collapsed into bed.

She couldn't stay awake another second.

As always, she could only rely on herself when it mattered.

She drifted off, only to jerk awake hours later to a cold draft.

But the chill vanished as quickly as it came.

Morning light streamed through the curtains, warm and golden.

Evelyn blinked awake—

And found herself staring straight into Nathan's icy, breathtaking face.