Chapter 19
The sun was already high in the sky when Evelyn finally stirred from sleep.
It was Sunday, and she had slept in until half past ten—something she hadn’t done once since moving into Dominic’s mansion.
When she stepped out of her room, still wrapped in a loose silk nightgown, her tousled hair cascading over her shoulders, she froze.
The living room was filled with men—Dominic’s guests—all turning to stare at her with sharp, assessing gazes.
Her bare face, free of makeup, burned under their scrutiny.
Dominic’s expression was unreadable, but his jaw tightened slightly.
Her pulse spiked.
Without a word, she spun on her heel and retreated back into the safety of her room.
Before she could shut the door, Mrs. Wilkins intercepted her, gently guiding her toward the dining room instead.
“You must be famished, Miss Evelyn. I checked on you earlier, but you were sleeping so soundly, I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”
Evelyn swallowed. “Who… who are those men?”
“Master Dominic’s associates. They dropped by unexpectedly. Don’t worry—you don’t need to greet them.”
Evelyn exhaled.
Good. She barely acknowledged Dominic himself—why would she bother with his friends?
Still, if she’d known he had company, she would’ve left the house hours ago.
The murmur of voices from the living room carried over, sharp with curiosity.
“Dominic, who’s the girl? A live-in nurse? Or… something else?”
A rough chuckle followed. “Come on, we’re all grown men here. It’s only natural for a man like him to have a pretty young thing around.”
Dominic said nothing, and the room fell silent.
Then, someone changed the subject.
“Speaking of young things—anyone heard about Evelyn Thorne from Thornfield Industries? Richard Thorne’s daughter?”
“Oh, her? She called me last week begging for investors. I hung up before she could finish her pitch.”
“She’s got guts, I’ll give her that. But why take on her father’s mess? That company’s a sinking ship.”
“Youth and recklessness go hand in hand. I looked into their new project—some autonomous driving system. Sounds flashy, but the tech’s unstable. Only a fool would invest.”
Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her fork.
She finished breakfast quickly, grabbed her laptop, and escaped to a nearby café to work on her thesis.
Right now, she needed to focus on what she could control—her studies, her future.
At four o’clock, an email notification chimed.
She nearly choked on her coffee when she read it.
The sender? Mr. X.
The message? A genuine interest in Thornfield Industries’ new project—with a promise of investment if their meeting went well.
Evelyn’s mind raced.
Who was this man?
If he was serious, why not arrange a formal meeting at the office?
Skeptical, she typed back:
[Is this some new scam?]
His reply came instantly.
[You have a sharp wit, Miss Thorne. Here’s proof of my sincerity.]
An attachment followed—a screenshot of a bank account.
Her breath hitched.
The balance? Two hundred million dollars.
She blinked, recounting the zeros three times before it sank in.
Her fingers trembled as she typed:
[Impressive Photoshop skills. But really—who keeps that kind of money in a checking account?]
[Still doubtful? Give me your account number. I’ll transfer a deposit as a show of good faith.]
[And let you drain my account? Nice try.]
He didn’t respond.
After a moment’s hesitation, she sent him a receive-only account number—one that couldn’t be compromised.
Within minutes, her phone buzzed.
A notification.
$800,000.00—Deposit Received.
Her heart stopped.
——
Vincent arrived thirty minutes later, breathless.
“Evelyn, tell me this isn’t a joke. Did this guy really just send you eight hundred grand?”
She showed him the transaction.
Vincent’s face lit up. “Who is he? We need to meet him—immediately!”
Evelyn bit her lip. “He sent an address. Wants to meet Friday night.”
“Perfect! Send it to me—I’ll go with you.”
She nodded, but unease prickled down her spine.
Who was Mr. X?
Why her?
And why was he willing to throw money at a failing company without even meeting her first?
——
Friday came too soon.
At breakfast, Dominic set down his coffee. “Dinner at the estate tonight. Be there.”
Evelyn hesitated. “I… have a late seminar. I’ll be back afterward.”
His gaze darkened.
“You’re still my wife,” he said softly. “If I find out you’re lying, there will be consequences.”
Her blood turned to ice.
They’d been civil lately—almost pleasant.
Why the sudden threat?
Before she could ask, he walked away.
She glared at his retreating back. “Jerk.”
——
At 5:40 PM, Evelyn stood outside Twilight Bar, nerves frayed.
Vincent’s call came through, frantic. “Traffic’s a nightmare! Go in without me—I’ll be there ASAP!”
Her stomach twisted.
An attendant led her to Private Room V606.
She inhaled deeply and pushed the door open.
The room was dim, but the silhouette in the wheelchair was unmistakable.
Her breath caught.
Dominic.
Her pulse roared in her ears.
What the hell was he doing here?
Unless…
Unless he was—