Chapter 141

Burn wounds were the worst. Not the sharp, sudden pain of a cut, but a slow, relentless agony that refused to fade into the background.

Evelyn nodded. "Living in the countryside meant doing everything myself—chopping wood, starting fires, boiling water. The first time I tried, I burned my hand so badly I couldn't sleep all night."

Nathaniel's brows drew together. Without realizing it, concern darkened his gaze. "How old were you when this started?"

"I don't remember," Evelyn replied softly.

Childhood memories were a locked door she rarely opened. If the topic ever surfaced, she'd shut it down immediately.

Nathaniel rested his hand on her head, petting her like a stray kitten. "Was your childhood difficult?"

"Not particularly."

Pity made Evelyn bristle. She shoved his hand away with a scowl. "You probably don't know about my family situation, but you should understand this—they're vultures. If they find out about us, you'll be dragged into their mess too. I doubt you'd want that. So let's keep this arrangement between us."

The medicinal stench of burn cream soured his mood further. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "Is someone in your family giving you trouble? If you need—"

"I don't," Evelyn cut in sharply. "My family is my problem. In three months, this arrangement ends and we go back to being strangers. No need for unnecessary entanglements."

Nathaniel's expression turned glacial.

'How eager is she for that day to come?' he thought bitterly. 'Strangers again—does she truly regret ever meeting me?'

Withdrawing his hand, his voice dropped to a frigid murmur. "You overestimate my interest in your affairs, Miss Whitmore."

Evelyn rolled her eyes, snapping the cream's lid shut. "Apply this twice daily. The burn should heal within a week."

When Nathaniel made no move to take it, she jammed the tube into his pocket herself.

Silence thickened between them.

The car pulled into the Grayson estate. They exited wordlessly, retreating to separate rooms—no need for marital pretenses without Margaret around.

Nathaniel spent the night chain-smoking in his study while Evelyn slept soundly.

Morning came with the shrill ring of her phone. Still half-asleep, she fumbled for the device.

Gregory's roar blasted through the receiver. "Evelyn Whitmore! What the hell have you done?"

Blinking groggily, she mumbled, "Done what?"

"You ruined your sister's movie deal!" he thundered. "Get your ass home now! Have you lost your damn mind?"

No questions needed. Cassandra had clearly spun her tale. "Understood. I'll be there shortly."

The call disconnected.

Evelyn sat up, rubbing sleep from her eyes.

This was predictable. Cassandra must've raced home to poison Gregory's ear with embellished grievances. Again.