Chapter 16

Evelyn's eyes flew open in shock when she realized Nathaniel was doing one-handed pushups above her. His free hand covered her mouth while the blanket draped over their bodies, leaving only their heads exposed.

Their faces hovered inches apart, his movements making it seem like they were tangled in something far more intimate.

Uncomfortable, Evelyn shoved his hand away. "Mister, you—"

Nathaniel dipped lower, his breath hot against her ear. "I thought you promised to do your job properly. Cooperate, or this won't work."

Evelyn stiffened, then caught movement at the door—Margaret peeking in.

Oh. So that's the game.

Lowering her voice, she smirked. "Want me to moan for realism?"

Nathaniel's eyes darkened with amusement. "Do you even know how?"

"Watch me."

She inhaled dramatically before launching into an exaggerated performance. "Oh, darling! Yes! Right there! Harder! Mmm—"

Nathaniel's smirk vanished. He clamped a hand over her mouth, his expression strained.

Evelyn muffled a laugh. The door clicked shut—Margaret had seen enough.

"She's gone," Evelyn huffed, shoving him off. "Get up."

Nathaniel rolled away, snatching his discarded shirt.

Evelyn sat up, eyeing his toned torso. "Impressive discipline. Didn't expect abs like that from an old man."

Nathaniel froze. "Old man?"

"Keep staring like that, and I'll think you're obsessed with me."

Evelyn wiped imaginary drool. "Only your abs. The rest? Not my type."

Nathaniel stalked back, gripping her chin. "And what is your type?"

"Sweet boys who call me Mommy."

He scoffed. "That's not a man."

"Then what's yours? Supermodels? Bombshells?"

Nathaniel leaned in, his voice low. "Anyone who isn't a bratty cheerleader in bed."

He released her and headed to the bathroom.

Evelyn smirked. They'd be sharing a room tonight—Margaret's orders. Awkward, but unavoidable.

When Nathaniel returned, Evelyn was slumped against the headboard, phone in hand, mid-game. Asleep.

Wants a man to call her Mommy but falls asleep playing games.

He snatched her phone, locked it, and tossed it aside. After a moment's hesitation, he tugged the blanket over her.

Then he retreated to the sofa.

Morning came, and Nathaniel was already gone.

Evelyn lounged in bed, scrolling until a message from Sebastian Monroe lit up her screen:

[Boss! Found Vivian Sterling's original painting—"Geese in Late Autumn." Peakrise Auction House. Starting bid: 750K. Move fast.]

Her blood ran cold.

Vivian Sterling—her mother's alias. No death certificate, no body. Just scattered paintings, clues to her disappearance.

Evelyn bolted up. "How much do we have?"

Sebastian replied: [7.5 mil liquid. Rest tied in projects.]

"Enough."

She rushed out, nearly colliding with Margaret in the hall.

"Good morning, ma'am."

Margaret scowled. "Grandma."

"Grandma," Evelyn corrected.

Margaret beamed, dragging her to the dining table. "Eat. I made this for you."

The maids gaped—Margaret never cooked.

Evelyn forced a bite. "Delicious. But I have to go."

"One more!" Margaret insisted, secretly loading her plate with fertility supplements.

Abigail stumbled downstairs, yawning. "Morning, Grandma!"

Margaret's smile vanished. "Apologize to your sister-in-law."

Abigail choked. "What? She dunked my head in a toilet!"

"The maids talk," Margaret snapped. "You started it. Apologize. Now."

Evelyn watched, amused, as Abigail muttered an apology.

"Forgiven." Evelyn stood. "Excuse me, Grandma."

Margaret nodded. "Be safe."

Once Evelyn left, Abigail wailed, "Why take her side?"

"Because she respects me," Margaret said coldly. "And never mention the Rivers family again."

Abigail paled, silenced.

Peakrise Auction House

Sebastian briefed Evelyn as they walked. "Foreign seller. Bidding starts in ten."

Evelyn's pulse raced—until a familiar car pulled up.

Nathaniel.

Why is he here?