Chapter 942

Evelyn studied the document, her expression darkening.

The memory surfaced vividly. Cassandra Delacroix, the heiress of Celestial Media, had foolishly provoked her.

Back then, Evelyn had leveraged her family's influence to crush Celestial Media, leaving them barely clinging to survival.

"Did Donovan conceal his identity to avenge his father?"

Natalie shook her head. "I doubt it's revenge. He barely interacts with Vincent, and this identity doesn't benefit him. His mother's family backs him. The Pierces were struggling, especially in the early years—clear signs of decline. But their fortunes reversed recently, likely due to Donovan's efforts."

She hadn't expected Vincent Delacroix of Celestial Media to have such a formidable illegitimate son.

He outshone Cassandra by miles.

Natalie paused, lowering her voice with a sigh.

"He married some nouveau riche's daughter, but rumors say their marriage is strained. Probably because he's obsessed with wealth. He barely visits his wife—maybe once a year. Poor Isabella suffered such injustice!"

Evelyn nodded.

Isabella might enjoy playing around, but she never crossed moral boundaries.

Donovan was despicable for dragging her into this mess.

Moments later, Preston rushed in.

A cold aura clung to him, as if the night had seeped into his bones. In his hand, he carried a large Hermès bag—clearly repurposed for groceries. He handed it to Evelyn.

"I thought you might be cold, so I brought you some clothes."

Evelyn opened it. Though the bag was feminine, the clothes inside were unmistakably Preston's.

He hesitated. "I was in a hurry. Couldn’t get to your place, so I brought mine. Bear with it for now."

Evelyn smiled. She’d left abruptly, still in her evening gown. The thin coat she wore was useless against the chill. These clothes were a godsend.

Preston helped her into them, their eyes meeting with quiet understanding.

Natalie scoffed. "Watching you two makes my teeth ache."

Evelyn blinked. "Why?"

"Too sweet."

No filter. Evelyn shot her a look, but Natalie was already scrutinizing Preston.

Preston finished buttoning Evelyn’s coat and turned to Natalie with a smile. "You haven’t eaten, right? I’ll grab food so Ms. Montgomery can eat when she wakes."

Under normal circumstances, they’d have refused.

What shops were open at this hour?

Sending him out would just inconvenience him.

But he’d mentioned Isabella—how she’d refused meals at Donovan’s place. She was probably starving.

Evelyn nodded. "Don’t go far. Just get whatever’s available. If nothing’s open, come back. I’ll have the butler send something."

Preston smiled and left. Natalie shook her head.

"Mr. Sinclair is so attentive with you. But be careful. Don’t let temporary sweetness blind you like Isabella did."

Evelyn chuckled. "I know. He’s not that type."

Natalie frowned, holding back words.

Evelyn wasn’t Isabella.

And Preston wasn’t Donovan.

The doctor wheeled Isabella back into the ward. Her face was swollen, red as a boiled lobster—pitiful.

"Doctor, how is she?"