Chapter 2

"Where's the porridge?" Nathan Evans frowned at the dining table.

Butler Thompson quickly explained, "You mean the nourishing porridge?"

"What nourishing porridge?"

"The one Miss Evelyn made every day—millet with yam, lotus seeds, and goji berries. It had to soak overnight." Thompson wiped his brow. "I don’t have her skills. Mine never turns out right."

Nathan set down his chopsticks. "Bring me some chili sauce."

"Right away."

"...This tastes off." Nathan eyed the jar. "The packaging is different too."

"The homemade one ran out. This is from the store."

"Go buy the right one."

"It’s not available." Thompson hesitated. "That was Miss Evelyn’s secret recipe..."

Bang!

"Sir? You’re not eating?"

"Hmm."

Thompson watched Nathan’s retreating figure, baffled.

The outburst made no sense.

"Wake up!"

Evelyn Langley burrowed deeper into the blankets. "Stop it..."

Her best friend, Sophia Laurent, applied lipstick. "It’s nine. Aren’t you going back to make breakfast for His Highness?"

In the past, Evelyn would rush home before dawn after sleepovers.

Just to cook that damn porridge.

Sophia always thought it was ridiculous.

A CEO like Nathan couldn’t handle his own breakfast?

Spoiled rotten.

Evelyn rolled over. "We broke up."

"How long will this last?"

"..."

"Breakfast is in the kitchen. I’m heading to work. Got a date tonight, so don’t wait—oh, never mind. You’ll probably run back to him soon. Lock up when you leave."

Hunger eventually dragged Evelyn out of bed.

Munching on a sandwich, sunlight warming her face, she realized how long it had been since she slept in.

After brunch, she went straight to the bank.

Cashing that $50 million check came first.

Money in hand meant security.

"I want to deposit ten million," she told the account manager.

The bank director personally offered favorable rates. After some negotiation, Evelyn signed, satisfied.

She repeated the process twice more.

By the time she left, she held three black cards, $30 million in savings, and $20 million in liquid assets.

"Best breakup ever."

Passing a salon, she walked in.

A membership card secured her immediate spot in the stylist’s chair.

"Your hair is gorgeous, like a princess’s—"

These curls had been for Nathan.

He loved threading his fingers through them during intimate moments.

"Cut it short. Straighten and dye it black." Evelyn’s tone was firm.

Even the prettest princess was still a caged bird.

She was done playing the role.

The new style was sleek and sharp. Next door, Uniqlo had a sale. She bought a white tee and jeans, changing on the spot.

At Harvard’s gates, students cycled past in the sunset glow.

"Ryan! Over here—"

A guy jogged past her. "Why’s everyone here?"

"We’re visiting Professor Roland..."

Ryan Clementson shook his head. "The hospital won’t allow crowds. Two reps from bioinformatics should go."

Bioinformatics... Professor Roland...

Evelyn hurried over. "Which Professor Roland?"

"Eleanor Roland." The guy flushed answering her.

"Which hospital?"

"Mass General."

"Thanks."

"Wait, which department are you—"

Evelyn was already walking away.

Back at the apartment, her mind raced.

That strict professor who rapped knuckles with a ruler was sick?

How serious?

She pulled up "Lily Anderson’s" number but couldn’t bring herself to call.

She’d given up her Ph.D. track for Nathan.

Became a housewife right after undergrad.

The professor must’ve been so disappointed.

"You’re still here?" Sophia returned from work, surprised.

Evelyn arched a brow. "Kicking me out?"

"Shocking. Last time Nathan called, you bolted in under thirty minutes."

"There’s porridge in the kitchen."

Sophia brightened, savoring a spoonful. "Nathan was lucky to have you..."

"Wash your bowl." Evelyn headed to her room.

"Really not going back?"

The door clicked shut in response.

Sophia smirked. "Progress..."

Meanwhile, at the riverside estate.

"Sir, the bank confirmed Miss Langley cashed the check at noon..."

Nathan hung up, staring through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

"Evelyn, what game are you playing now?"

Did she think this would win him back?

Pathetic.

"Dylan, let’s grab drinks."

Half an hour later, in the VIP lounge.

"Nathan! Finally." Dylan Lowell grinned, peering behind him. "Where’s Evelyn? Parking?"

Nathan’s expression darkened.