Chapter 427

The attending physician was conducting the examination when Nathan had to release Evelyn's hand momentarily.

Less than sixty seconds passed before Nathan grew restless at her absence.

"Evelyn, take my hand," Nathan's voice came out weak and pleading. The medical staff exchanged glances—Mr. Blackwood and Ms. Sinclair seemed unusually close.

Who would have guessed the formidable CEO could be this clingy?

A hand reached toward him. Nathan caught sight of it from the corner of his eye and immediately seized the wrist.

His pulse raced, but relief washed over him. He didn't dare stroke her fingers, afraid of provoking her temper. Since she hadn't pulled away, the earlier sting of rejection quietly faded.

The examination lasted ten agonizing minutes, during which Nathan's heart hammered violently. Just as it concluded, he heard Theodore's voice drifting in from the hallway.

"Ms. Sinclair, are you certain you only want one small tea? Allow me to bring you another—"

The voice grew nearer.

"No, thank you. I've had enough." The reply was soft, almost distant.

A heavy silence fell over the room.

If Evelyn's voice came from beyond the door... then whose hand was this?!

The doctors instinctively looked at Nathan, still lying on the examination table. His tightly shut eyes flew open, dark with icy fury.

The hand in his grasp twitched.

Nathan's entire body went rigid.

He recoiled as if burned, releasing his grip with startling speed. His tone turned arctic.

"Who the hell is this?!"

The curtain was yanked aside, revealing Marcus's scowling face—stiff with forced patience, his expression a mix of irritation and wounded pride.

He held himself back, jaw clenched. "Mr. Blackwood, you grabbed me first. For Ms. Sinclair's sake, I endured it."

Being her bodyguard was clearly no easy job.

Under the stunned gazes of the medical team, Marcus turned on his heel and strode out, his muscular frame radiating quiet intimidation.

At that moment, Evelyn walked in, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Finished with the checkup?"

Nathan glared at her, his face flushing crimson with rage. The staff sensed the sudden drop in temperature and hastily excused themselves, fleeing the room.

Evelyn approached and sat beside him. Noticing his flushed cheeks, she frowned and pressed a hand to his forehead.

"No fever. Are you feeling unwell?"

Nathan gritted his teeth, his bloodshot eyes locked onto hers.

First the bath incident. Now this. Both times with Marcus.

Frustration burned in his chest, but he couldn't lash out—not when he'd been the one trying to take advantage.

"My heart is unwell," he ground out.

Evelyn withdrew her hand, her lips curving into an amused smirk. "Mr. Blackwood, did you just cling to Marcus's hand like a lovestruck schoolboy?"

Nathan's face darkened further.

Evelyn chuckled. "Relax. Your secret's safe with me." She reached for his silk pajamas and draped them over him.

"My father's birthday is coming up. I'll be returning home for a few days. You don't mind, do you?"

Nathan stared at her in silence, his tongue pressed hard against his cheek as he fought to suppress the storm of emotions.

"...No."

Evelyn nodded, satisfied. She turned and summoned Theodore to help Nathan freshen up.

She knew he wouldn't protest—not when the mere sight of Marcus would undoubtedly sour his mood further.

"Theodore!" she called.

The cheerful assistant bounded in, beaming. "What an honor to attend to Mr. Blackwood! Oh my—wow, sir! Your physique is absolutely—"

Nathan's expression turned stony. A single warning glance silenced him mid-sentence.

Quick to redirect, Theodore cleared his throat. "So, Mr. Blackwood! That candlelit dinner with Ms. Sinclair must have been incredibly romantic, yes? Did she weep from joy?"

Nathan shut his eyes tightly.

Deep breaths. Just endure this idiot a little longer.