Chapter 305

Evelyn Sinclair's breath hitched when she saw the caller ID.

Nathan Blackwood was calling her? Now?

She didn't recognize this number—had he gotten a new one just to reach her?

A bitter laugh escaped her lips.

Hadn't Vanessa Holloway already told him where she was?

Or had Margaret Blackwood embellished the details, spinning some dramatic tale to make Evelyn look worse?

She didn’t care.

The line was silent, heavy with unspoken tension.

Just as Evelyn was about to end the call, Nathan’s voice cut through—low, restrained, as if he were barely holding himself together.

"Don’t stay out too late. And go easy on the drinks."

Her fingers froze.

All the sharp retorts she had prepared died in her throat.

Her chest tightened, a suffocating weight pressing down.

She exhaled sharply, brows knitting together.

"Since when do you care?" she snapped before hanging up.

That bastard never played by the rules.

Across the table, Natalie Beaumont swirled her wine, frowning.

"What game is Nathan playing now? Does he actually want you back?"

Isabella Montgomery pursed her lips. "Hard to say."

"Our Evelyn’s worth has skyrocketed since the divorce. Who knows if he’s genuinely remorseful or just scheming?" Natalie mused.

"With the Blackwood fortune, he doesn’t need anyone’s money," Isabella countered before shaking her head vehemently. "But no—you can’t fall for his tricks again! Whatever he wants, we don’t want him!"

Evelyn nodded firmly. "Obviously. I’m not that stupid."

But the alcohol was making her head heavy, her thoughts sluggish.

Natalie, at least, had the sense to call them rides.

Only Adrian Prescott and Julian Moreau remained sober, carefully guiding Evelyn toward the exit.

Then—

A voice, cold as winter, sliced through the club’s chatter.

"Let. Go."

Adrian stiffened.

Nathan stood near the entrance, his expression unreadable.

How long had he been waiting?

In three strides, he was in front of them, his gaze locked onto Evelyn—dazed, unsteady in Adrian’s hold.

Something dark flickered in Nathan’s eyes.

Adrian, still new to the industry, had no power against him.

Reluctance burned in his grip, but he had no choice.

"Mr. Blackwood," he said tightly, "Ms. Sinclair’s brother is on his way."

He couldn’t just hand her over.

Nathan’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper.

"I warned you to release her."

The command was absolute.

His glare alone was enough to make Adrian step back.

The difference between them was staggering—one a rising model, the other a man who commanded empires.

Julian stepped forward, gesturing to the lounge.

"Adrian, let’s move her to the sofa—"

A sudden movement.

Nathan moved like a storm.

One second, Adrian was holding Evelyn—the next, his arms were empty, shoved back with enough force to nearly send him crashing to the floor.

His face paled.

Nathan had her now.

And he wasn’t letting go.