Chapter 425

Dominic could function like any normal person—eat, sleep, work—as long as he didn't see or think about Evelyn.

But the moment her image crossed his mind, his body betrayed him with physical reactions.

A sharp knock interrupted his thoughts. Dominic stepped inside from the balcony.

He opened the door to find Mrs. Wilkins waiting.

"Sir, Evelyn stopped by earlier. She asked for you," the housekeeper reported. "I inquired about her business, but she didn't say. She left shortly after."

"I saw." Dominic's expression remained impassive, his voice icy.

"Shall I invite her in next time she visits?" Mrs. Wilkins ventured.

"No." After a weighted pause, he muttered the refusal.

——

Evelyn returned home soaked to the bone.

"Mommy! You're all wet!" Lily cried, rushing forward with concern. "Where's your umbrella?"

Michael immediately nudged her toward the stairs. "Go shower before you catch pneumonia."

As Evelyn ascended, Lily turned accusing eyes on Michael. "Why did you let Mommy come home alone like this?"

Henry mirrored his sister's disapproving glare.

Cornered by the children's united front, Michael raised his hands in surrender. "Your mom insisted on handling something alone this afternoon! Threatened to hex me if I followed! I'll make her ginger tea—that'll prevent any cold!" He fled to the kitchen.

After showering and drying her hair, Evelyn descended to find Michael thrusting a steaming mug into her hands. She drained it with murmured thanks.

"Where were you this afternoon?" Michael scolded. "Rain's one thing, but did you forget how to use doorways?"

Lily instantly jumped to her mother's defense. "Stop nagging! Can't you see she's already miserable?"

"Fine, let's eat." Michael herded the children toward the dining table. "Evelyn, our new bodyguard's a culinary genius. Give the man a raise!"

Evelyn surveyed the lavish spread and nodded absently.

"Eat more meat—doctor's orders for your anemia," Michael insisted, piling her plate.

Human psychology worked in strange ways. The ham sandwich she'd eaten that morning hadn't triggered any nausea.

But now, with pregnancy confirmation fresh in her mind, the sight of rich foods turned her stomach.

Noticing her untouched plate, Michael served her pork. She forced one bite before pushing it away. "Some vegetables would be nice."

"I'll have him prepare greens tomorrow." Michael studied Evelyn's downcast expression, correctly guessing her afternoon visit to Dominic's. Before noon, she'd been fine.

"Eric's manager came by earlier," he mentioned casually. "Since you were out, I handled the discussion."

"Reach an agreement?" She arched a brow.

"Nearly. Just needs your final approval." Michael grinned. "Gotta admit, Eric's grown on me. Might stop calling him 'Pretty Boy.'"

"Proceed with your terms then." Evelyn showed no inclination to interfere.

"Thought you hated marketing?"

"Nothing's absolute." She set down her fork, appetite gone. "I've been monitoring Thornfield Industries' aggressive product campaigns. Their numbers don't lie. Eric's offering help—I'd be foolish to refuse."

"Now that's the spirit!"

"I won't let Margaret outmaneuver me." Evelyn rose abruptly. "I'll draft a proposal to discuss with Eric."

"At least finish eating!" Michael protested, eyeing her half-full plate.

"Not hungry. I'll fix something later if I am." She disappeared upstairs.

Seated at her laptop, Evelyn worked mechanically as rain lashed the windows.

Distracted, she finished her tasks and jerked upright, startled to find it nearly eleven.

Despite the late hour, she knew what she had to do—and it couldn't wait until morning.