Chapter 455

Evelyn instinctively reached out to steady Nathan's IV drip.

The needle in his right hand was slipping, tiny crimson droplets forming at the puncture site. Nathan's complexion looked ghostly pale, his usually full lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Yet his eyes brightened noticeably when they landed on her.

"Evelyn..." His voice came out hoarse as he tried to sit up, only to collapse back against the pillows. She remained frozen in the doorway, watching his struggle to rehang the IV bag himself before finally stepping forward to assist.

Her gaze swept over him clinically. "Mr. Blackwood, how are you feeling?" Nathan's lips twitched into a weak smile. "Better now that you're here. You didn't catch a chill last night, did you?" Even his normally rich baritone sounded strained.

There was something heartbreakingly vulnerable in the way he looked at her. "No." Evelyn's pulse stuttered despite herself. She moved to the chair opposite his bed with deliberate nonchalance.

Theodore entered bearing a steaming bowl, his expression sympathetic. "Mr. Blackwood, you must regain your strength. Ms. Sinclair was quite moved when she learned what you did for her. She's been wanting to express her gratitude properly." He shot Evelyn a meaningful glance. "It's impossible not to admire such a remarkable man!"

Evelyn arched an eyebrow at Theodore's blatant matchmaking. The earlier tension dissipated instantly. Theodore winked conspiratorially, clearly playing up the situation for the patient's benefit.

Pursing her lips, Evelyn met Nathan's expectant gaze. "I heard you had the trending topics removed. Thank you." Her words came out stiffer than intended.

Nathan's smile softened. "You're welcome." Theodore hastily passed the bowl to Evelyn and made a strategic exit.

Nathan eyed the soup, then raised his trembling, needle-pierced hand with obvious difficulty. Evelyn frowned. Despite his weakened state, his expression remained composed, though she detected a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

Seeing the typically formidable Nathan Blackwood reduced to such frailty stirred unexpected tenderness in her chest. He'd been injured because of her, after all. The least she could do was show basic courtesy.

She held out the bowl with the spoon, maintaining what little distance remained between them. This was already pushing her boundaries. Nathan calmly displayed his other hand - equally marred by IV punctures. "No strength," he admitted quietly, the admission clearly costing him pride.

Evelyn hesitated. Just as Nathan thought she might relent and feed him herself, she called toward the door, "Marcus!" The ensuing silence lasted just a beat too long. Nathan's jaw tightened visibly, his chest rising with a sharp inhale. He knew exactly what was coming.

Absolutely not. He'd rather collapse from hunger.

The next instant, Marcus materialized, his usual stoic expression in place. "Yes, Miss Sinclair?"

"Please assist Mr. Blackwood with his soup." Her tone brooked no argument.

Marcus's brows drew together fractionally, but he accepted the bowl without protest. Better him than Evelyn having to endure Nathan's proximity. "At once, Miss." His response rang with military precision.

Before Marcus could take the vacated seat, Nathan snatched the bowl with sudden vigor, downing its contents in several large gulps. His glare could have frozen lava. "Out!" he barked at Marcus, the command laced with barely restrained fury.