Chapter 422

Perhaps it was Evelyn's intuition. Even though the person remained inside their vehicle, she sensed something odd. Turning her head, she peered into the adjacent car and found Donovan Pierce seated in the back, his finger curling in a silent command for her to approach.

Her breath hitched, but she obeyed without protest, sliding into his car. After a brief glance at him, she averted her gaze toward her crimson Porsche and asked, "How did you recognize my car?"

"You've been making waves lately," Donovan remarked cryptically, sidestepping her question.

"Suppose so. I’m sure you’ve caught wind of everything." Evelyn nodded. If he had pinpointed her vehicle in this sprawling parking lot, she had no doubt he was well-informed about the recent uproar online.

"I don’t recall you being this… conspicuous before," Donovan mused, this time turning fully to study her.

"Maybe the Hawthorne influence rubbed off on me. Or perhaps I just fancied a change in style." Evelyn lowered her head, smoothing out the creases in her blouse before giving up with a frustrated tug. "You weren’t just passing by, were you? Did Grandfather send you?"

"Birthday celebration." The two words explained his presence succinctly.

Evelyn remembered the occasion and gave a slight nod. "Right. I knew that was why you were here. I’ll be there."

"Have you truly decided never to return?" Donovan’s gaze bore into her as if he could extract the truth from her expression alone.

"I’ve told you before—it’s not about refusing to go back. It’s just not the right time. Besides, does it even matter whether I step foot in that house again? Am I really that indispensable to the Hawthornes?" She scoffed.

Leaving the Hawthorne estate had been a relief—an escape from the suffocating tension and relentless expectations. She hadn’t once regretted it, not even when Dominic Reeves and Vanessa Blake had played their cruel games.

Using the Hawthorne name to retaliate would have been effortless, but the backlash would have been far worse. She preferred handling her battles alone rather than dragging herself back into their world.

Donovan’s expression darkened, his lips parting as if to argue, but he swallowed his words. Instead, he murmured, "He’s getting old."

"People in the Hawthorne bloodline live forever. Don’t worry about it." Evelyn patted his shoulder dismissively. "If that’s all, I’ll be on my way."

"Wait." Donovan stopped her, tossing a folder into her lap.

"What’s this?" She frowned.

"Information that might interest you. Look it over when you have time." His tone was casual, but his eyes held weight.

Evelyn arched a brow, weighing the folder in her hand. It was light—barely anything inside. Still, she tucked it under her arm. "Fine."

The moment she stepped out, the engine roared to life, and Donovan’s car vanished down the road. She glanced at the folder again, deciding she’d open it at home. No rush.