Chapter 388

News of Nathan Blackwood's accident spread like wildfire through the elite circles of Montecito.

Margaret Blackwood, the formidable matriarch, arrived at the hospital in a flurry of designer silk and suppressed rage. Her husband, William Sterling, followed close behind, his expression unreadable.

The revelation that Nathan had thrown himself in front of a speeding car to save Evelyn Sinclair turned Margaret's grief into something darker. Her manicured nails dug into her palms as the doctors spoke.

William Sterling had seen enough tragedies to school his features, but the tension in his jaw betrayed him. After hours of silent vigil, his butler Archibald finally escorted him home when exhaustion won.

Margaret's wails echoed through the private ward for two solid hours.

Evelyn sat motionless in the VIP lounge, her porcelain face a mask of calm as Margaret's venomous words washed over her.

"You vile creature! This is the second time my son nearly died because of you!" Margaret's voice cracked with hysteria. "First that yacht explosion, now this? And you made him send Sophia away! What witchcraft have you cast on him?"

Harrison and Bennett exchanged uneasy glances at Evelyn's eerie stillness. She might as well have been carved from marble.

When Alexander Sterling arrived with Donovan, Margaret's tirade reached new heights. Alexander's glacial glare could have frozen hell over.

"Enough," William said firmly, placing a protective hand on Evelyn's shoulder. "You're coming home, darling. You haven't slept in forty-eight hours."

Evelyn lifted bloodshot eyes to her father. The hope in them had been extinguished.

Harrison stepped forward. "Mr. Blackwood has remarkable resilience. The doctors confirmed only a concussion and fractured femur. He'll recover fully—but you need rest too, Ms. Sinclair."

The implication hung unspoken—Nathan would be devastated to see her like this.

Margaret stormed out, her Chanel heels striking the marble like gunshots. "Rest? How dare you think of resting when my son—"

Alexander cut her off with a voice like shards of ice. "Mrs. Blackwood, while we're grateful for your son's bravery, Evelyn didn't force him into that street. Your accusations are beneath you."

The temperature in the room dropped several degrees. Even Margaret hesitated, remembering too late the Sterlings weren't just wealthy—they were power incarnate.

"You—" she sputtered.

A harried doctor chose that moment to intervene. "For God's sake, the patient needs quiet!" He glared pointedly at Margaret. "This isn't a theater."

Alexander's smirk was razor-sharp. "Clearly some people care more about drama than their own family's recovery."

Margaret's face purpled with rage, but the doctor's warning stare silenced her. She collapsed onto a divan with theatrical flourish.

Alexander retrieved Evelyn's shattered phone from the side table, handing it to Bennett along with her Birkin. In one fluid motion, he pulled Evelyn to her feet.

"Home. Now." His tone brooked no argument.

Evelyn rose mechanically, casting a last glance at Harrison, who gave a subtle nod. He'd call if Nathan's condition changed.

Her smile was a ghost of its usual brilliance as she let herself be led away.