Chapter 251

Only Sophia Bennett would occasionally exchange a few words with Lucas Sinclair to break the icy silence in the car.

When they reached the Bennett family mansion, Evelyn Whitmore—who had been sitting in the middle—politely stepped out first to give Sophia space to exit.

Sophia hesitated before asking Evelyn and Nathaniel Grayson if they wanted to come inside for a while. Both refused, though Nathaniel’s rejection was blunt while Evelyn’s was more hesitant.

With a reluctant sigh, Sophia bid Evelyn goodbye before heading inside.

Evelyn slid back into the car, settling by the window again. She slipped her earbuds in and closed her eyes, retreating into her music.

Nathaniel finally spoke, his voice cool. "What are you listening to?"

Evelyn didn’t open her eyes. "A song."

"Which one?"

"Just a pop song."

Nathaniel’s jaw tensed. His dark eyes flickered with irritation before he fell silent again.

Evelyn didn’t bother to glance at him.

Back at the Grayson estate, Evelyn went straight to her room. She showered, changed into comfortable clothes, and prepared for bed. The last two days had been exhausting.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, she spotted Nathaniel on the balcony, cigarette smoke curling around him as he stared into the night. The moonlight softened his sharp features, lending an almost ethereal quality to his cold demeanor.

Hearing the bathroom door open, he turned. His gaze landed on Evelyn, who was clearly ready to sleep. His brows furrowed.

"Dry your hair first," he ordered.

Evelyn sighed but obeyed, retreating back into the bathroom. The hum of the hairdryer soon filled the air.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply. She was following his instructions, yet it only made him more frustrated.

Half an hour later, Evelyn emerged again, her hair now dry. She barely took two steps toward the bed before Nathaniel’s voice cut through the silence.

"Come here. Pour me a glass of water."

Evelyn clenched her jaw but complied, setting the glass on the table in front of him before turning away.

Before she could leave, Nathaniel’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist. The sudden force yanked her backward, and she landed on his lap, his arm locking around her waist.

She glared at him. "What do you want now?"

Nathaniel exhaled a slow stream of smoke toward her face, his piercing gaze locked onto hers. "Evelyn, what’s with your attitude?"

Her frown deepened. "I did exactly what you asked. What more do you want? Should I kneel while handing you the glass next time?"