Chapter 213

Evelyn was baffled when Sophia blurted, "Wait! How many boyfriends do you actually have?" Evelyn froze, her gaze sharpening.

Sophia immediately clamped her mouth shut.

Then, frowning, Sophia muttered, "If we're not talking about the same person, then it wasn’t your boyfriend who dropped off those things earlier? That’s impossible! Harrison was carrying so much—your personal stuff, too—in the dead of night. He didn’t even speak. Just handed them to me and left."

Evelyn’s mind raced as she pieced it together. She held up a hand. "Hold on."

She fished her phone from her pocket. There were no photos of Harrison saved, and a quick search yielded nothing.

Locking eyes with Sophia’s expectant stare, Evelyn opened WhatsApp and typed to Alexander: Send me a picture of Harrison.

If her hunch was right, it had to be Harrison who’d come, not Alexander. If Alexander had bothered to show up himself, he wouldn’t have just dumped her things with Sophia and vanished. That wasn’t his style.

"Just wait," Evelyn told Sophia.

The message sent, she waited. Alexander was definitely awake—he wouldn’t have sent Harrison otherwise. What she didn’t know was that he wasn’t just awake. He was parked on the street outside, engine off.

The sleek black Porsche sat silently under the dim streetlights. Inside, Alexander leaned back, eyes closed. Knowing Evelyn was pulling an all-nighter, sleep had been impossible. When the temperature plummeted, he’d gathered her essentials and come.

But he understood the critical phase of her experiment. No distractions. So he’d sent Harrison up instead.

His phone buzzed twice. Alexander’s eyes snapped open. The screen’s glow illuminated his sharp frown.

Harrison, oblivious in the driver’s seat, still felt the sudden chill creeping down his spine. He glanced at the rearview mirror—and met his boss’s unreadable, dark gaze.

"Sir?"

Alexander studied him for a long moment before looking back at his phone. His wife had asked for a photo. Of Harrison. Not him.

His voice dropped dangerously low. "Harrison. Turn around."

Harrison blinked. "Sir?"

"Turn around." The edge in Alexander’s tone brooked no argument.

Swallowing hard, Harrison obeyed. Alexander raised his phone and snapped a picture.

Harrison’s stomach knotted. Why did Mr. Kensington need his photo? Was this some kind of pre-mission dossier? Something he wouldn’t return from?

Evelyn’s phone pinged. She opened the image—a crisp, close-up shot of Harrison’s face. Every detail was clear, from the stern set of his jaw to the faint scar above his brow. Exactly as Sophia had described: square-faced, thick brows, intense eyes.

She turned the screen to Sophia. "This him?"

Sophia’s eyes widened. "Yes! That’s him! Wait—he’s not your boyfriend?!"