Chapter 4

Evelyn Sinclair couldn't care less about Vanessa Holloway's embarrassment.

Her sharp eyes landed on Vanessa's bandaged left leg. Without hesitation, she tore off the gauze despite Vanessa's frantic protests.

The temperature in the hospital room plummeted instantly.

Evelyn scoffed at the barely visible scratch beneath the bandages.

"Such a life-threatening injury," she mocked. "I don't even see a single drop of blood. If I'd arrived any later, it might have miraculously healed on its own."

"Nathan, please—" Vanessa's voice trembled as she met Nathan Blackwood's stormy gaze. "I just... I need the transfusion because I feel so weak..."

"You get 'injured' four times a month," Evelyn snapped, her voice like ice. "You're not fooling anyone. But congratulations—this ends today. Find some other naive woman to be your personal blood bank."

With that final blow, Evelyn turned on her heel and strode out, slamming the door behind her.

The moment the door closed, Evelyn's strength evaporated. She collapsed onto a hallway bench, feeling like the weight of the world had crushed her.

Tears streamed down her face as she fumbled for her phone. Her fingers shook as she dialed a familiar number.

"Alexander..." Her voice cracked with exhaustion.

On the other end, her brother sighed. "Where are you?" His voice was warm with unspoken concern. "I'm coming to get you."

Minutes later, a striking man in a tailored black suit led a team of security through the hospital corridors. They carried an unconscious Evelyn out discreetly.

Meanwhile, Nathan Blackwood stormed through the hospital, dragging a terrified doctor by the collar.

"A serious injury requiring transfusion?" Nathan's voice was deadly calm. "For a scratch? Is this the medical standard your hospital prides itself on?"

The doctor stammered, "M-Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Holloway insisted—she said you approved every transfusion! We were just following orders!"

Nathan's grip tightened. Had he really been so blind?

The memory of Evelyn's pale face after each donation flashed through his mind. Guilt twisted in his chest, followed by something darker—regret.

He pulled out his phone, but Evelyn's number went straight to voicemail.

"Find her," he barked at his trembling assistant. "Now."

But the surveillance footage had been erased. Evelyn Sinclair had vanished without a trace.

Nathan's chest constricted. He told himself it was just irritation—not panic.

She had nothing. No money. No connections. Where could she possibly go?

Gold-leaf trim. Italian silk drapes. The familiar opulence of Sterling Manor surrounded Evelyn when she awoke.

Tears spilled down her cheeks at the sight of her childhood bedroom.

A deep voice cut through her thoughts. "Stop crying over that worthless man. The Sterling family doesn't raise weaklings."

Evelyn looked up through blurred vision.

William Sterling—her father, the titan who could make Wall Street tremble with a single word—stood before her, his expression unreadable.

"Daddy..." The word tore from her throat like a sob.

William's jaw tightened. He reached out, brushing away her tears with surprising gentleness.

"Listen to me, princess. That Blackwood fool will regret this day for the rest of his miserable life."

Evelyn's breath hitched. For the first time in years, she felt something flicker in her chest—not pain, not grief, but the first embers of something dangerous.

Something like vengeance.