Chapter 10

Adrian Klein remained silent.

For him, food was merely sustenance—taste had never been a consideration.

"Done washing."

Evelyn Langley glanced at the ingredients on the counter. Red peppers and bok choy were arranged in two perfectly aligned rows, spaced with mathematical precision. Even the most obsessive perfectionist would be impressed.

"What's funny?" Adrian frowned.

Evelyn cleared her throat. "Nothing. You can go wait outside."

"Hmm." Adrian dried his hands with a towel and gave a slight nod.

Dinner consisted of light dishes Evelyn prepared specifically for Prof. Eleanor Roland's dietary needs.

"You remembered..." The elderly professor's eyes grew moist.

After the meal, Evelyn began clearing the table.

Adrian wordlessly followed her into the kitchen to help.

Under the warm yellow light, his tall silhouette stretched across the floor.

From Evelyn's angle, his chiseled profile looked like a classical sculpture—his razor-sharp jawline could cut glass.

Eleanor leaned against the doorframe. "Mianmian, how did you and Adrian meet?"

Adrian was her most brilliant protégé, while Evelyn was her favorite student. She'd long wanted to introduce them.

Yet somehow, they'd crossed paths on their own.

"Professor, you have a visitor!"

A voice called from the living room.

Eleanor turned to see a girl rising from the sofa—

"Hello Professor, I'm Isabella Evans. We met at the hospital about the graduate program admissions."

Eleanor nodded. "I remember. Have a seat."

Isabella's smile widened. "I heard you were recuperating at home, so I brought some tonics..."

Eleanor's gaze swept over the gift boxes on the coffee table—ginseng, bird's nest, cordyceps...

Her smile cooled slightly.

Isabella pressed on. "About this year's admission quota—"

Eleanor cut her off. "Your kindness is noted, but please take these back. Graduate admissions are merit-based."

Isabella froze.

At the hospital, the professor had said "there's a chance" and "you could try"...

"Professor, I—"

"Miss Evans, I have other guests. Walter, please help carry these to her car."

The dismissal couldn't be clearer.

Isabella stumbled out in a daze and nearly collided with someone.

"Evelyn Langley?" Her eyes widened. "What are you doing here?"

Evelyn wore a white T-shirt and an outdated apron, holding a trash bag.

"What a coincidence." Evelyn seemed equally surprised but smiled politely.

She neither liked nor disliked Isabella. The pampered heiress was spoiled but at least knew basic manners.

"You..." Isabella looked her up and down. "Working as an hourly maid?"

Evelyn: "?"

"Did my brother not give you money?"

"??"

"Oh my God! This is humiliating!" Isabella stormed out in her heels, already dialing her phone.

Her outrage wasn't for Evelyn's sake—she simply found her brother's behavior appalling!

Like dining at a Michelin restaurant and leaving no tip!

"Hey—Nathan! We need to talk—"

The call connected just as she began her tirade.

"Busy. Not in the mood for your drama."

"Who's being dramatic? You're the one who's gone too far! Stingy men are as disgusting as rats!"

"Take your tantrums elsewhere." What nonsense.

Isabella barreled on. "Evelyn cooks, cleans and sleeps with you, and you won't pay her? Forcing her to work as a maid? How will this look when word gets out?"

Dead silence on the other end. "...Who did you say?"

"Evelyn Langley."

"Hourly maid... What do you mean?"

Isabella spilled everything she'd witnessed: "...This time you've really crossed the line. Even lapdogs deserve basic—"

Nathan Evans stopped listening.

Three words echoed in his mind: Evelyn. Maid. Money.

So she'd cashed that $50M check but didn't dare use it.

He loosened his tie, eyes darkening.

Hah. She'd walked away so decisively—he'd almost believed she had principles. Turns out...

Without him, she couldn't even survive.

"Nathan, your turn."

Ethan Winston tapped the dice cup.

"I'm out."

Nathan grabbed his suit jacket and car keys.

"You organized this gathering," Ethan said, bewildered.

"Something came up."

She should be calling any minute now, begging him to pick her up...

......

Nathan waited in his car. Work calls and messages came—but not the one he wanted.

He drove straight to Sophia Laurent's apartment.

Evelyn had no family in the city. Every time they fought, she fled to Sophia's place. He knew the route by heart.

"Nathan Evans?"

A voice called as he stepped out of his car. Nathan turned to see Sophia arm-in-arm with a younger man heading home.

"What are you doing here?" Sophia's gaze turned wary.

"Where's Evelyn?"

"None of your business."

"I asked where Evelyn is." His tone sharpened.

Nathan had always disapproved of Sophia's wild lifestyle and often warned Evelyn to keep her distance.

Yet this was the one thing Evelyn stubbornly refused.

Sophia smirked. "Newsflash—you broke up. What's your claim on her now?"

Nathan scoffed. "How many times have we 'broken up'? Lost count?"

"So?"

"Don't waste your time playing villain."

Evelyn always came crawling back to him eventually.

Sophia laughed bitterly. "To you, Evelyn's worth less than a dog? At your beck and call?"

Nathan wasn't in the mood for debate. "Tell me or I'll search the place myself."

Sophia's boy-toy blocked his path. "Sir, breaking and entering is illegal."

Nathan ignored him, locking eyes with Sophia. "Fine. Remember this. But it won't matter—she'll still come begging like a dog in the end."