Chapter 436

Nathaniel didn't want to wake Evelyn from her dreams, so he quietly slipped out of bed and headed for the door. He needed a moment to clear his head in the study, but just as his fingers brushed the doorknob, a chilling realization struck him.

Something was wrong.

Why can't I hear her breathing?

His heart lurched violently. He flicked on the lights, scanning the room with sharp eyes. The bed was empty.

A cold dread settled in his chest as he yanked back the covers—nothing but rumpled sheets.

Where the hell is she?

He grabbed his phone and dialed her number, only to hear the familiar ringtone coming from the nightstand. The phone—his old one, now hers—lay abandoned.

She left without it?

A dark suspicion coiled in his gut. He strode to the wardrobe and flung it open.

Gone. Every last piece of her clothing had vanished.

His expression turned glacial. "Theodore!"

The butler rushed in, alarmed. "Yes, Mister Nathaniel?"

Nathaniel's voice was dangerously soft. "Where is she?"

Theodore's gaze darted around the room, landing on the half-empty wardrobe. His face paled. "Sir, Madam retired to her room after dinner. She hasn't been downstairs since. She's been fatigued lately, so she rests early. I instructed the staff not to disturb her."

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. "Then why are you still standing here? Find her. Don't come back until you do."

Theodore swallowed hard. "Understood, sir. We'll locate her immediately."

They searched all night. By dawn, there was still no trace of Evelyn.

Stranger still—the security footage showed no sign of her leaving.

Nathaniel sat motionless on the sofa, his eyes bloodshot, his presence radiating a lethal calm. He looked like a fallen god, one wrong word away from raining destruction.

She ran.

The realization burned. She had planned this meticulously—avoiding cameras, exploiting blind spots, leaving no trail.

Good. Very good, Evelyn Whitmore.

The servants stood frozen, bracing for his wrath.

Lucas hurried in, breathless. "Sir, we've checked airports, bus stations, hotels—nothing. The Whitmores claim she visited yesterday but only to return the engagement gifts you sent."

Nathaniel leaned back, pressing his fingers to his temples. Exhaustion, fury, and something darker twisted in his gaze.

Theodore spoke up carefully. "Sir, Madam had someone collect her belongings yesterday. I believe those were the gifts. They're in storage now."

Nathaniel's eyes narrowed to slits.

"She only took the paintings you gave her," Theodore added quietly.

A bitter smirk curled Nathaniel's lips.

She planned this perfectly.