Chapter 332

Lucas deliberately raised the partition window, sealing off the front seats from the back.

Out of sight, out of mind—wasn’t that how the saying went?

He didn’t need Nathaniel’s sharp gaze burning holes into him.

Nathaniel rubbed Evelyn’s stomach gently until her complexion regained some color. Then, he pulled out a damp cloth, wiping the sticky soda from her face. His heart ached, but frustration simmered beneath the surface.

“You’re always so fierce with me,” he muttered, voice low. “Why didn’t you fight back when they threw that drink on you?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes. “I’m not a rabid dog, Nathaniel. If a dog bites you, do you bite it back? No. You handle it like a human.”

She crossed her arms. “Besides, those people are just mindless sheep, blinded by whatever nonsense is trending online. My real issue is with whoever orchestrated this mess behind the scenes.”

Nathaniel sighed, ruffling her hair. “Let me handle this. Stay home for a few days until things calm down.”

Evelyn scowled. “Why should I hide? I didn’t do anything wrong.”

He softened his tone. “Then don’t hide. But you’re coming to the office with me tomorrow.”

Her breath hitched. With him? To the office? That meant going public.

She hesitated, then shook her head. “No. You’ll be working, and I’ll just be bored.”

Nathaniel’s expression darkened. “Cyberbullying isn’t a joke, Evelyn. Just this once, let me worry about you.”

Her pulse skipped. This is what it feels like to be cared for.

She cleared her throat. “I can take care of myself. I won’t let anyone walk all over me.”

Nathaniel didn’t push further. Forcing her would only make her pull away.

He’d learned that much.

She wasn’t like other women—she was a wild songbird. The tighter he held, the faster she’d slip through his fingers.

Resigned, he pinched her cheek. “Fine. You’re terrifying with me, but a saint with everyone else.”

Evelyn frowned. Is he saying I’m mean to him?

Before, their relationship had been purely transactional. She avoided him unless necessary.

Now, they were trying to make this work—but she wasn’t ready for him to treat her like some helpless child.

That same evening, in a crumbling apartment complex on the outskirts of the city, Daniel Carter’s wife returned from the police station with their son, Oliver.

Tears streaked both their faces.

Oliver had just learned his father was a criminal. His small world shattered.

After finally calming him down and tucking him into bed, the doorbell rang.

Daniel’s wife hesitated before answering.

A woman stood outside—cap pulled low, oversized sunglasses, and a mask covering half her face. A black suitcase weighed heavily in her grip.

“H-Hello?” Daniel’s wife stammered. “Can I help you?”

The woman didn’t answer.

She pushed past her, stepping inside, then removed her sunglasses and mask.