Chapter 37

[Ethan Blackwell: (disappointed emoji) Nothing. I'm pissed today, needed to vent to my master.]

Evelyn Whitmore typed back, [What’s wrong?]

[Ethan Blackwell: (angry emoji) Saw my friend’s rival at Silver Peaks Ranch today. Tried to trip her so she’d eat dirt in front of everyone. But that witch deliberately fell into Nathaniel Grayson’s arms and kissed him! I’m livid!]

Evelyn froze, staring at the screen.

The world really was too small.

That had to be the same guy who’d tripped her—the one with the thick eyebrows and sharp eyes, barely eighteen.

[Maybe it was just the angle? She couldn’t have controlled how she fell.]

[Ethan Blackwell: Hah! No way. That was calculated. She’s a conniving snake!]

Evelyn exhaled, deciding not to engage further. Instead, she logged into the game server, losing herself in matches until her frustration dulled.

After a winning streak, another message popped up.

[Ethan Blackwell: (pleading emoji) Master, are you in New Capital? Let me treat you to dinner!]

Evelyn smirked. [Bad idea. You wouldn’t like what you see.]

[Ethan Blackwell: (confused emoji) Why not? You’re my idol! I’d die to meet you!]

She propped her chin on her palm, amused. Because I’m the "conniving snake" you just cursed out.

A knock interrupted her thoughts.

She closed the game and opened the door to find Margaret Grayson beaming at her, a maid hovering behind with a steaming bowl.

"Try this soup, dear! Made it just for you."

Evelyn had been drowning in the old woman’s culinary experiments lately. Her stomach hadn’t caught a break.

But it was delicious, so she never refused.

"Thank you, Grandma." She stepped aside, letting them in.

Margaret watched her sip the soup with tender pride. "You came back alone? Where’s Sophia?"

"Nathaniel sent Lucas Sinclair to take her home."

The warmth in Margaret’s eyes dimmed. "You saw Nathaniel?"

Evelyn nodded between spoonfuls.

"And he didn’t come back with you?"

"He dropped me off. Probably buried in work."

Margaret huffed. "That boy! What’s the point of having a stunning wife if he’s never home? Work won’t give him grandchildren!"

Evelyn nearly choked.

Margaret was sweet, if not relentlessly fixated on heirs.

The next afternoon, Evelyn returned to the Whitmore estate.

Gregory Whitmore took one look at her and slammed his glass onto the table, shattering it.

"On your knees, you disgraceful girl!"