Chapter 268

Evelyn Whitmore stood frozen at the doorstep, her grip tightening on the lunchbox in her hand.

The woman before her was slightly shorter, her porcelain skin almost translucent, giving her a delicate, fragile appearance. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows framed gentle eyes that drooped slightly at the corners, lending her an air of innocent vulnerability. A single beauty mark rested between her brows.

She was undeniably pretty—not in a striking, bold way, but in a manner that made people instinctively want to shield her.

Yet, the sight of her standing there in a nightgown, barefoot, made Evelyn’s lips curl in bitter amusement.

So she spent the night here.

Evelyn wasn’t surprised. She had been smart enough to stay away last night, sparing herself the humiliation. But Nathaniel? Did he really have to be this shameless?

Married or not—even if their union was nothing more than a transaction—bringing his ex back into their home was a new low.

The woman blinked her large, doe-like eyes when Evelyn didn’t respond. “Hello? Who are you looking for?”

Evelyn hesitated. She wasn’t ignoring her—she just didn’t know how to answer. Telling her name would mean nothing. Claiming to be Nathaniel’s wife felt like an unnecessary provocation.

She had no interest in starting a fight.

“I’m not looking for anyone,” she finally said. “I’m staying here temporarily.”

The woman’s eyes widened. “You live here?”

Before Evelyn could respond, hurried footsteps echoed from the staircase. Theodore Whitmore, the butler, rushed down, his face lighting up when he spotted her.

“Madam! You’re back!”

Evelyn gave him a curt nod.

Theodore scanned her from head to toe, relief washing over his features. “Where were you last night? We were worried.”

“I stayed at a friend’s place,” Evelyn replied dismissively, stepping inside.

Theodore exhaled. “Well, I’m glad you’re safe.”

She handed him the lunchbox. “Theodore, put this chestnut cake in the freezer. I’ll have it later.”

“Of course, Madam.” He motioned for a maid, whispering instructions before she hurried off—no doubt to inform Nathaniel of her return.

Evelyn barely spared the woman another glance as she headed for the stairs. She had work to do. The Holden Group’s building design wasn’t going to draft itself, and she was already behind schedule.

But then—

“Evelyn.”

The voice was soft, almost hesitant.

She stopped mid-step, surprised. She knows my name?

Turning, she arched a brow. “Yes? Can I help you?”