Chapter 55

Christopher leaned in close, his breath warm against Evelyn's ear. "But if you truly want them," he murmured, "I could give them to you... as engagement gifts when you agree to marry me."

Evelyn scowled, shooting him an irritated glare. She was about to dismiss his ridiculous joke when a sudden, unsettling sensation twisted in her chest.

Her frown deepened, her expression darkening.

Christopher noticed the shift immediately. "What's wrong?"

Beads of sweat formed on her forehead, her lips losing color. "I... don't feel well."

His concern sharpened. "Is it the gallery's temperature? Did you catch a chill?"

"P-Perhaps." Her teeth clenched against the discomfort. A shiver wracked her body.

Without hesitation, Christopher shrugged off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. "Come, let's get you to the lounge. It's warmer there."

"Thanks."

Her legs wobbled, forcing her to lean into his support as they walked.

Nearby, Benjamin lurked behind a sculpture, phone recording every moment. He smirked. "Alone in the lounge? How convenient. If this isn't incriminating, nothing is."

With a quick tap, he sent the gallery's location to Abigail.

Inside the lounge, Evelyn's condition worsened. Her skin turned ghostly pale, her trembling uncontrollable.

Christopher handed her a glass of warm water. "Should I take you to the hospital?"

She curled inward, arms wrapped around her stomach. "No... I just need to rest. Go back to your guests."

He didn't budge, sitting beside her with genuine worry. "Afraid of hospitals?"

The question caught her off guard. She didn't answer, but the truth was obvious.

As a child, she'd woken in a hospital bed to find her mother gone. Seven days of solitude, followed by her father's grim news. The memory still haunted her.

Christopher didn't press further. "My doctor is on his way. Lie down—I'll wake you when he arrives."

Too weak to argue, she obeyed, curling into a tight ball on the lounge's bed. His jacket still covered her, but he fetched a blanket anyway.

Meanwhile...

"Abigail, why drag me here?" Margaret huffed. "I was making soup for Evelyn!"

Abigail smiled sweetly. "Because your favorite granddaughter-in-law is inside."

Margaret froze. "Evelyn is here?"

A sly nod.

Gallery staff recognized Margaret instantly, bowing as she passed.

Once reunited with Benjamin, the trio hurried toward the lounge—Abigail and Benjamin eager to expose Evelyn's supposed affair, Margaret bewildered but following.

Staff tried to intervene, but Benjamin shoved past. The door burst open.

And there they were—Evelyn, pale and weak, cradled in Christopher's arms.

Margaret gasped. "Evelyn! What on earth is happening?"