Chapter 959

The Hamilton Group employed thousands, yet only a handful could enter Alexander Hamilton's inner circle. Evelyn Carter could count them on one hand. The secretarial department performed their duties meticulously—overtime and accompanying the boss to business dinners were never part of their contracts.

"Just Victor Laurent and me," Alexander murmured, his fingers tracing the rim of his teacup. "A simple dinner to discuss the project. No alcohol."

His stomach condition hadn't flared up in months, but constant travel had weakened his immunity. Evelyn knew all too well how dangerous a relapse could be in this state.

"Perfect." She set down the medical chart. "I should catch up with this old classmate of mine anyway."

As Alexander's brow furrowed, she wiggled her ring finger, the diamond catching the light. "A five-month baby bump is obvious even to the blind. If the great Alexander Hamilton gets jealous over this, you’re being unreasonable."

Only they knew about the "divorced" status on their household register. To outsiders, she was the picture of marital bliss—a glowing expectant mother.

"I’ll try." His Adam's apple bobbed before inspiration struck. "Vivian Dempsey has been keeping you company lately, hasn’t she? Invite her along. Consider it my thanks."

Evelyn smirked. "Sure. It’ll give Victor an out. Disappearing without a goodbye back then—this reunion must be excruciatingly awkward."

Alexander knew she saw right through him. Since Evelyn’s pregnancy, her gentle resilience had become even more captivating, fueling his irrational fear that someone might steal her away.

He dialed Vivian immediately. Keyboard clacks echoed through the receiver. "Alexander? Weren’t you in Vancouver?"

"Back now. With a blast from your past," he teased.

When "Victor Laurent" left his lips, Vivian’s shriek nearly shattered his eardrum. "That bastard dares show his face?! Vanished into thin air years ago, and now he waltzes back like nothing happened?!"

Alexander grinned, rattled off the restaurant address, and hung up. Turning, he found Evelyn struggling to slip on her shoes, one hand supporting her lower back.

He dropped to one knee, cradling her swollen ankle—pregnancy had softened its once-slender curve. Evelyn used to blush at such attentiveness; now, she’d grown accustomed to this man’s devotion.

The French restaurant, booked by his secretaries, exuded understated elegance. Lattice screens created intimate nooks, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the city’s glittering skyline. By the window sat Victor, his tailored suit a far cry from the school uniform of memory.

Only the tear mole at his eye corner confirmed his identity.

"Vivian’s best friend!" Victor sprang up, his gaze snagging on her belly. "I never thought you’d—"

"Long story." Evelyn deftly redirected. Her lilac dress draped softly over the gentle swell.

Alexander handed her a cushion with practiced ease, as if he’d rehearsed the motion a thousand times. Victor gaped. "The rumors did you dirty, Alexander. They paint you as unlucky in love, but you’re clearly winning at life."

"You and Vivian deserve each other," Alexander muttered, his temple throbbing.

One asked brazen questions; the other gave blunt answers. Their sheer audacity was downright criminal.