Chapter 155

Cassandra Delacroix refused to back down, her lips parting to deliver another cutting remark.

The sudden ringing of Evelyn Sinclair's phone shattered the tense silence. The cheerful melody was jarringly out of place.

With an irritated sigh, Evelyn answered the call and stepped away. It was Lucas Sterling.

"I heard there's a dangerous fugitive in the area. Stay put—I'm sending someone to pick you up."

Evelyn's lips curved into a wry smile. "Don't worry, I can handle myself."

She strode past Nathan Blackwood and Cassandra without a backward glance.

"Evelyn!" Nathan called after her. Before she could react, he was already following. "Let me drive you home."

She arched an eyebrow, amused by his audacity.

"Since when are we on speaking terms?" she scoffed. "Did you hit your head? I don't need your help. Don't flatter yourself."

"There's a violent criminal loose nearby," Nathan insisted, his voice flat. "If anything happens to you, the media will crucify me."

His shadow stretched long under the flickering streetlight, making him look oddly vulnerable.

For a fleeting moment, Evelyn thought she detected genuine concern in his tone.

Since when does he care about my safety? She almost laughed. Next thing you know, pigs will fly.

Then Cassandra caught up, her face twisted in exaggerated distress.

Evelyn smirked. "No thanks. I'd rather take my chances with a fugitive than spend another minute in your company."

With that, she turned on her heel and left.

"That arrogant bitch!" Cassandra seethed. "How dare she humiliate me like this? She did that on purpose!"

Nathan's jaw tightened. Harrison pulled up in the car, and Nathan slid into the passenger seat without another word.

"Drive," he ordered coldly, ignoring Cassandra's protests. The car sped off.

The road ahead was poorly lit, several streetlights broken. An uneasy feeling settled in Nathan's chest.

Then he spotted it—a parked car up ahead, its interior dark.

"That's Evelyn's car."

It hadn't even been two minutes since they parted. Had something already happened?

"Stop the car!" Nathan barked.

He was out before the vehicle fully halted, sprinting toward the scene. Harrison followed close behind.

As they neared, a man's pained grunt reached their ears.

Evelyn stood in front of her car, facing a disheveled bald man clutching a knife.

The man's clothes were caked in mud, his expression wild with desperation.

Spotting the newcomers, he panicked and lunged at Evelyn.

She sidestepped effortlessly, her movements fluid and precise.

Sigh. Just my luck.

Of all people, I had to run into this psycho.

As the man swung the knife, Evelyn pivoted and delivered a sharp kick to his back.

His head slammed into the hood of her car with a sickening thud.

The man groaned, dazed but not defeated. He staggered up, raising the knife again—

Crack!

A scream tore through the night as the dagger clattered to the pavement.

Evelyn's stiletto heel was embedded in the back of his hand.

Harrison winced at the sound. If he hadn't seen it himself, he'd never believe the poised Evelyn Sinclair could fight like this.

She didn't give anyone a chance to play the hero.

Nathan moved before Harrison could react. "Call the police!" he snapped, already striding toward Evelyn.

Harrison fumbled for his phone.

Evelyn sensed someone approaching but didn't expect Nathan.

When she saw him, her expression cooled. She stepped past him without a word, swapping her ruined Chanel heels for spare flats.

The bloodstained designer shoes were a lost cause.

"Evelyn," Nathan said tightly. "Are you hurt?"