Chapter 422

Theodore "Teddy" Winslow sat slumped on the plush sofa in Highland Estates' grand living room, nursing his wounded heart over Nathan's indifference when the front door creaked open.

Nathan Blackwood wheeled himself in, his usually sharp features softened by the dim lighting. Teddy sprang up like an overeager puppy.

"Mr. Blackwood! You're back already? Shouldn't you be resting after your injury? Your dedication is truly inspiring—no wonder you're the most successful man in New York!"

Nathan had just finished dealing with Gregory Thornton, putting him in an unusually good mood—until Teddy's sycophantic greeting soured his expression.

The blatant flattery was almost impressive in its absurdity. Nathan clenched his jaw, his voice dropping to a dangerous timbre. "Is Evelyn home?"

"Yes, sir. Though...Ms. Sinclair seems rather upset tonight. Maybe you should—"

Nathan's glacial glare cut through Teddy's words like a knife. The assistant visibly gulped, hastily adding, "That gala tonight was spectacular! Like something out of a Hollywood premiere. Though it lacked your commanding presence, of course."

Nathan ignored the babbling, maneuvering his wheelchair toward the study. What kind of idiot had he hired? If not for Teddy's unique skill set, he'd have fired him months ago.

Teddy scurried after him, grabbing the wheelchair handles. "But sir, you really should be concerned! Preston Sinclair was practically orbiting Ms. Sinclair all evening. The way he looks at her—it's not just gratitude anymore. You can't afford to be complacent!"

At the gala, Teddy had witnessed firsthand the reverence everyone showed Preston Sinclair. The Wall Street titan carried himself with the same formidable aura as Nathan, yet he'd been uncharacteristically gentle with Evelyn, attending to her every need. How could Nathan ignore that?

Rubbing his temples, Nathan snapped, "Just do your damn job." He dismissed Teddy's concerns. Preston's kindness stemmed from Evelyn saving his son during that terrorist attack in Paris years ago. Nathan was certain the man harbored no ulterior motives.

As for romantic feelings? Preston's wife had died in that same attack. No man moved on from that in just a few years.

Nathan paused outside Evelyn's bedroom door, knocking softly. After a prolonged silence, the door swung open.

Evelyn stood framed in the doorway, her face obscured by a clay mask, arms crossed defiantly. "What energy you have, Mr. Blackwood. Capturing Gregory Thornton and still having breath to bother me."

Nathan's gaze softened as he looked up at her. "I have news I think you'll appreciate."

"Let me guess—you found the murderer? Gregory Thornton?" Her flat tone held no surprise.

Nathan's eyebrows lifted appreciatively. "You already knew. Of course you did." His lips quirked. "Shall I hand him over to the police immediately?"

Evelyn's mask cracked slightly as she frowned. "Too merciful. I assume you're dismantling his empire first? Making him watch everything he built crumble before tossing him in a cell?"

"Would you like to participate?" Nathan watched her closely.

Evelyn hesitated. "You've handled everything already. No point dirtying my hands."

A chill seemed to radiate from Nathan as he studied her. Remembering Teddy's warning, he decided to voice his thoughts. "You're extraordinary, Evelyn. Brilliant, beautiful...and far too kind for your own good."

Any other woman might have melted at such praise. Evelyn merely rolled her eyes beneath her mask. "Exactly why I'm too good for you. What nonsense are you spouting at this hour?"

Nathan's shoulders slumped slightly as he retreated to his room, the weight of unrequited affection pressing down on him.

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