Chapter 901

Evelyn Carter had just stepped out of the examination room when she spotted Henry Lowell standing at the end of the hallway, holding a thermal container.

She paused in surprise.

She hadn't seen Alexander's assistant since his last hospital stay.

"Mrs. Hamilton." Henry approached with a bright, sunflower-like smile. "Mr. Hamilton asked me to bring you lunch."

Evelyn accepted the container, her fingertips brushing against the warm edges. "Thank you. But..."

She hesitated.

Henry, however, seemed eager to chat. "You wouldn't believe how different Mr. Hamilton has been since you returned. Last week, when someone from marketing dozed off during a meeting, he just tapped the table as a warning."

Evelyn raised an eyebrow. "And before?"

"Before?" Henry mimed slitting his throat. "Instant dismissal would've been merciful."

Evelyn glanced down at the container, suddenly feeling its warmth burn her palms.

She'd been deliberately avoiding Hamilton Group to minimize contact with Alexander. Yet here she was, sitting in a hospital, while her influence already spread through his company.

"Maybe he's just in a good mood lately," she deflected.

Henry shook his head. "Absolutely not. The day before yesterday, he was furious—and it was sunny as could be."

Her fingers stilled.

That had been the day she'd refused his offer to drive her.

The food suddenly lost its appeal.

"Mrs. Hamilton?" Henry asked cautiously, noticing her distraction. "Are you alright?"

She forced a smile. "Fine. Please thank Mr. Hamilton for me."

After Henry left, Evelyn sat in her office, staring blankly at the container.

She'd only wanted to avoid burdening him. How had he interpreted that as...?

Her phone vibrated.

A message from Alexander: [How's the food?]

Her fingers hovered over the screen, unmoving.

Meanwhile, in the CEO's office at Hamilton Group...

Alexander frowned at his unresponsive phone.

"Mr. Hamilton," Henry ventured cautiously from across the desk, "Mrs. Hamilton looked well."

"Did she say anything?" Alexander asked without looking up.

Henry shook his head. "No."

Alexander set his phone down and massaged his temples. "You may go."

Once alone, he leaned back in his chair, gaze drifting to the window.

Sunlight streamed in, glinting off the glass walls—just as it had caught in Evelyn's hair that day outside the hospital.

At six that evening, Evelyn packed up to leave.

For once, Alexander wasn't waiting outside her office.

She exhaled in relief—yet couldn't ignore the odd emptiness.

Stepping outside, summer heat rushed to greet her.

She squinted against the glare—then saw the familiar black sedan parked in its usual spot.

The door opened. Alexander approached with a black umbrella.

"It's sunny today," he said softly, tilting the shade toward her.

Evelyn studied their elongated shadows on the pavement and suddenly smiled. "Why didn't you come in today?"

He paused. "This works too."

What he didn't say: This way, she wouldn't worry about colleagues' stares.

Understanding, her lips curved slightly. "It does."

During the drive home, gentle piano music filled the car.

Alexander focused on the road. Evelyn watched the scenery blur past.

Neither spoke, yet the silence felt more comfortable than ever before.

Arriving home, the clatter of mahjong tiles drifted from the neighboring yard.

"Mom's at the Taylors' again," Evelyn sighed, eyeing the lit-up house next door.

Alexander parked. "Is Baby Chloe home?"

"Yes, probably with Peanut."

Inside, giggles echoed from the living room.

Baby Chloe sat astride the Ragdoll cat, tiny fists clutching its tail. Peanut lay defeated, releasing a pitiful "meow" at their arrival.

Alexander swiftly scooped up the child. "Be gentle with Peanut."

The baby waved her arms in protest, babbling incoherently.

Evelyn poured water, noticing Alexander's open laptop displaying an unfinished proposal.

"Working late again?" she asked.

He settled the baby into her high chair. "A project deadline."

Seeing the shadows under his eyes, Evelyn suddenly said, "I'll take a cab to the hospital tomorrow."

He froze. "Why?"

"You're exhausted." She handed him the glass. "And..."

And this distance was better for them both.

As their fingers brushed, both startled at the contact.

"Thanks," he murmured, watching her ears turn pink.

Evelyn looked away. "Don't mention it."

In the living room, Baby Chloe sang off-key. Peanut dozed beneath the sofa.

Cicadas chirped outside.

The perfect distance. The perfect warmth.