Chapter 390

Evelyn Sinclair ignored all incoming messages. She took a long shower, applied a luxurious face mask, and emerged looking visibly rejuvenated.

William Sterling waited downstairs for his daughter to join him for dinner. His eyes followed every movement as Evelyn ate, exhaling in relief when she finished her bowl of soup.

"Evelyn, my dear," he began hesitantly, "you mustn't feel burdened by all this."

A practiced smile touched Evelyn's lips.

"I understand. I'll be fine. Nathan's out of danger now. I'll repay him for everything in due time." She paused, her voice dropping. "But the rest... I can't discuss it yet."

Strangely, Evelyn found she couldn't hate him as intensely as before.

The fleeting thought of reconciliation surfaced, but she dismissed it immediately.

All she truly wanted was for Nathan to recover.

Their history was too complicated, too entangled to determine who owed whom more.

William nodded approvingly, pleased his daughter had reached this clarity.

He gestured toward a towering figure in a tailored black suit and sunglasses who exuded intimidating energy.

"A bodyguard?" Evelyn recognized the professional attire instantly.

"Marcus," William confirmed. "Former special forces. He's been with me for years, but since I retired to fishing, he's been underutilized. He'll be your personal protection now."

Evelyn pressed her lips together but accepted her father's thoughtful gesture.

"Ms. Sinclair," Marcus greeted with a slight bow.

Evelyn offered a polite smile. "I appreciate your service, Marcus."

The bodyguard's stern expression remained unchanged as he acknowledged her.

Suddenly, Evelyn's phone shattered the moment's calm. Harrison's name flashed on the screen.

She answered immediately.

"Ms. Sinclair, urgent news! President Blackwood—"

Harrison's hesitation made Evelyn's blood run cold. She ended the call and bolted for the door in panic.

Marcus had the car ready before she reached the driveway. "Get in!" he barked.

Evelyn didn't hesitate.

What should have been a twenty-minute drive became ten under Marcus's expert handling.

Evelyn sprinted to Nathan's hospital room, throwing the door open with trembling hands.

Neither Margaret Blackwood nor the elder Mr. Blackwood were present.

Harrison sat slumped in the visitor's chair, his face drawn. "Ms. Sinclair..."

Evelyn's heart plummeted as she rushed forward.

The figure on the bed lay motionless, just as he had yesterday—but now devoid of all vitality. His complexion had turned ashen, the medical monitors disconnected, his chest frighteningly still.

For a moment, Evelyn stood paralyzed as darkness threatened to consume her vision.

This couldn't be real.

The doctors had assured her he would recover!

Agony crushed her chest, making each breath painful. The anguish felt physical, as if her very cells were screaming in protest.

Her legs buckled as consciousness wavered.

Harrison lunged forward. "Ms. Sinclair!"

He caught her just in time.

At that moment, Evelyn noticed it—the faintest twitch beneath the hospital blanket. A nearly imperceptible movement of Nathan's right foot.

Her entire body stiffened with realization.

After several heartbeats, she regained her composure with startling speed.

Harrison blinked in astonishment at her sudden transformation from devastated to composed.

Evelyn approached the bed with measured steps. Her cool fingertips brushed Nathan's pale cheek.

In a voice like polished ice, she asked, "Have the funeral arrangements been made?"