Chapter 398

Nathan Blackwood had explicitly instructed me not to disturb them upstairs. Evelyn Sinclair was giving him the cold shoulder, but I could tell it was all an act. She was clearly playing hard to get.

The housekeeper, Beatrice, deliberately lowered her voice to a whisper.

Click. The kitchen lights suddenly flickered on.

Beatrice jumped in surprise, her phone clattering to the floor in panic.

In that brief moment before the screen dimmed, Evelyn caught the name displayed on it.

Margaret Blackwood.

So she was reporting to Nathan's mother? Evelyn's lips thinned.

Beatrice trembled visibly, her eyes wide with fear as she stammered, "M-Ms. Sinclair! W-what are you—"

Evelyn cut her off with an icy glare, her dark eyes devoid of any warmth.

She wordlessly retrieved a carton of milk, poured herself a glass, and left without another glance.

Beatrice's hands shook as she picked up her phone. Watching Evelyn's retreating figure, an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach.

Evelyn sipped her milk as she ascended the stairs, finishing it just as she reached the study door.

The earlier encounter left a bitter taste in her mouth.

This wasn't the first time. Beatrice had been planted here as Margaret's spy, monitoring Evelyn's every move and ensuring she performed her wifely duties perfectly.

Those dress shirts Nathan never wore still had to be immaculately pressed. The mansion's cleanliness fell solely on her shoulders. Even their meals had to follow Margaret's approved recipes.

Beatrice had been the watchful eye reaping the benefits of Evelyn's labor.

After all this time, Margaret still wants to control me? Some things never change.

Evelyn pushed open the study door with more force than necessary, making sure it made noise.

Nathan, who had been resting on the chaise lounge, startled awake.

"Going to bed?" Evelyn's tone was clipped, her mood noticeably darker than when she'd left.

Nathan rubbed his eyes, his voice rough with sleep. "Did I doze off? You should rest. Harrison will be sending over some documents later."

Evelyn arched a brow. Of course Nathan wouldn't neglect his responsibilities. The Blackwood Empire would always come first.

"Fine. I'm going to my room then." She slipped on her shoes. "Don't call me if you need anything. Actually, don't call me even if you do."

Nathan's lips quirked in amusement as he watched her leave.

The door slammed shut behind her.

Nathan's smile faded, his chest tightening uncomfortably.

Earlier, Evelyn had tiptoed out barefoot to avoid waking him.

Now she made sure he knew she was leaving.

Back in her room, Evelyn locked the door and spent the next few hours laughing with Isabella and Natalie over video call until late into the night.

It was nearly midnight when Nathan finished reviewing Harrison's documents.

Fatigue weighed heavily on him, but the thought of Evelyn resting just next door lifted his spirits.

He wheeled himself to her room, only to freeze at the sight before him.

His breath caught painfully in his chest.

Marcus, Evelyn's personal bodyguard, had set up camp directly outside her door.

The military-grade sleeping arrangement was alarmingly thorough—practical, efficient, and clearly meant for long-term use.

The massive man completely blocked access to Evelyn's room.

Nathan approached with a scowl. "Was the guest room not to your liking?" His voice dripped with barely concealed irritation.

Marcus didn't even bother standing, leaning casually against the wall with one knee bent. His challenging stare never wavered. "I'm not a guest. Where Ms. Sinclair goes, I go."

Nathan's jaw tightened. "I need to check on her."

The unspoken command was clear: Move.

"Ms. Sinclair is asleep," Marcus stated flatly.

"According to who?"

After a beat of silence, Marcus replied, "Chairman Sterling's orders. No one enters the young mistress' room without her explicit permission."

Nathan's retort died on his lips.

With William Sterling's name invoked, he knew better than to argue.