Chapter 57

Evelyn Sinclair found herself in Nathan Blackwood’s study, pretending to scrutinize the investment reports he had laid out before her. Truthfully, she understood none of it, but she played along, feigning supervision while her attention wandered elsewhere.

Nathan stood nearby, his white bathrobe loosely tied, the chandelier’s glow accentuating the sculpted lines of his torso. His damp hair, dark as ink, framed his sharp features, and every breath he took seemed to ripple with restrained power.

Goodness, the man is a walking temptation. Evelyn mused, biting her lip. Why does he have to look this unfairly attractive outside of his tailored suits? Maybe keeping him around just for the view isn’t such a bad idea.

Nathan, who had been watching her with quiet amusement, stiffened slightly at the sudden shift in her thoughts. Divorce? Again?

But in just two months, Cassandra—his so-called "first love"—was set to return. Evelyn could already envision the drama: the misunderstandings, the tearful confessions, the inevitable heartache. And there she’d be, stuck in the middle like some disposable prop in their tragic romance.

Nathan exhaled sharply, resisting the urge to grab Evelyn by the shoulders and shake some sense into her. If only she’d just look into my memories!

Yes, Cassandra had been his crush, but she was not his first love.

Back in university, he and Cassandra had been drawn to each other’s ambition. She pursued him, and he, indifferent but not opposed, agreed to date. But their relationship had been anything but passionate. Reserved by nature, Nathan had never been one for grand romantic gestures. They attended lectures together, debated theories, and parted ways with nothing more than polite goodbyes.

Yet, Cassandra had spun their dynamic into something far more dramatic, whispering sweet nothings to anyone who would listen. By the time she announced her sudden departure abroad, Nathan had already emotionally checked out.

His subsequent avoidance of relationships had nothing to do with lingering heartbreak and everything to do with the crushing weight of corporate responsibilities. Love was a luxury he couldn’t afford—until Evelyn.

Still, given his pride, he couldn’t exactly grab her and declare, "I never loved her! Stop assuming things!"

He trusted that Evelyn, with her insatiable curiosity, would eventually uncover the truth on her own. Then she’d realize divorce was off the table, and they could finally focus on building something real.

In the meantime, he indulged her whims, hoping to bridge the gap between them.

But Evelyn remained blissfully oblivious, too preoccupied with admiring his physique to notice his internal struggle. Just as she contemplated poking his abs—purely for scientific purposes, of course—her phone buzzed.

"Huh?" She frowned at the screen. "Why is my bank balance suddenly so… decimal-heavy?"

Nathan glanced over, lips quirking. "Serena must have emptied her wallet into your account. She’s locking herself away to focus on her art exams. Consider it her way of eliminating distractions."

"I can’t accept all this!" Evelyn protested, though her fingers flew across the screen, sending a cheerful "Thanks, Rich Lady!" sticker before transferring most of the money to Nathan.

He chuckled. "A little hardship might do her good. Better to struggle now than be deceived by some reckless fool later." His expression softened. "She has real talent, you know."

Evelyn sighed dramatically. If I’d been born wealthy, would I have chased some grand ambition too?

Nah. She smirked. A life of leisure is the ultimate dream. Why strive when you can lounge?

Unfortunately, her lazy fantasies were abruptly interrupted when Julian and Marcus Donovan swooped in, determined to mold her into a "promising artist" before their impending studio relocation.

For three grueling days, Evelyn endured their relentless training. But by the fourth morning—precisely at eight o’clock, when she had just fallen back asleep—Julian’s insistent knocking shattered her peace.

Slumped at the breakfast table, she glared at her salad like it had personally offended her.

Why did I ever agree to this?

Across from her, Julian sighed. "Hurry up. We’re waiting."

Evelyn stabbed a lettuce leaf with unnecessary force. "Why are you even here today?"

Julian smirked. "Because someone has to save you from your own laziness."

Evelyn groaned. This is torture.

But as she glanced around the empty table—Nathan and Sophia had long since left for work—she begrudgingly admitted: They’re not just richer. They’re relentless.

No wonder they were successful.

And no wonder she’d rather nap.