Chapter 271

The motion-sensor light flickered on as Nathan Evans pushed open the villa's front door.

Chloe Valentine curled up on the leather sofa scrolling through her phone. She immediately dropped it and ran barefoot toward him.

Nathan didn't even glance her way, striding straight to the spiral staircase.

Chloe's nails dug deep into her palms.

Master Bedroom—

Nathan collapsed backward onto the king-size bed.

Evelyn Langley's lingering floral scent still clung to the pillows, flooding him with memories of their intimate moments.

His Adam's apple bobbed as crimson fury burned behind his eyes.

"Damn it!" He cursed under his breath before storming into the bathroom and turning the cold water on full blast.

Though he'd controlled his drinking tonight, Ethan Winston's words haunted him like a curse:

What right do you have to claim you love her?

Six years proved you're utterly unworthy...

All you've ever given her is pain...

She'll leave you for good one day...

Each syllable struck like a poisoned arrow, pinning him to the pillar of shame.

...

At dawn's first light, Nathan adjusted his tie.

The aroma of breakfast drifted up from the kitchen as he descended.

Golden fried eggs and freshly ground soy milk adorned the dining table.

Chloe emerged with a steaming basket of soup dumplings, flour dusting her apron.

"Nate, I woke up early to make these. Want to try?"

"Not hungry."

She hastily set down the bamboo steamer, ignoring her reddened fingertips.

"Then...maybe some hangover soup I prepared?"

Her tone carried practiced ease, as if last night's argument never happened.

Nathan's gaze swept the table before he scoffed.

The contrast couldn't be clearer.

Whenever he and Evelyn fought, she always broke the ice first.

But never with groveling.

Just a casual—

Need honey water?

Your antacids are in the left drawer.

The dry cleaners called about your suits.

One response from him would end their cold war.

For serious matters, she'd dissect every argument until he conceded defeat.

Now Nathan studied the performative woman before him—every calculated move visible in her eyes.

Disgusting.

Chloe prattled on: "Nate, I reflected all night. Aunt Margaret is family—I shouldn't have talked back."

"This is all my fault."

"Those prenatal classes are for my benefit. I swear I'll attend every session and cherish Auntie."

Nathan nearly applauded the Oscar-worthy performance.

"You're apologizing to the wrong person."

He turned toward the garage.

Chloe's smile froze in place.