Chapter 494

Nathaniel's lips twisted into a sneer as he tightened his grip on her throat. "So, this is why you found yourself a man who gives a damn about you?"

The mockery in his voice cut through Isabella like shards of glass.

"Alexander cares for you? Loves you?" His laughter was cruel, devoid of warmth. "Because he spent one night with you, because he brought you a damn box of antacids—you think that means anything? You think you matter to him?"

He released her abruptly, pressing a finger against her forehead instead. "I thought, despite your pathetic existence, you had at least some sense. But now I see—you're worthless. To have Evelyn's face and waste it like this... it's an insult to her beauty."

Through her blurred vision, the man she had loved for a decade became unrecognizable—a stranger carved from ice.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, raw and unchecked, but Nathaniel remained unmoved. "Stop deluding yourself. The Kingsley men—I know them better than anyone. They're just like me. Their hearts belong to Evelyn. They only love Evelyn. With your background, with you being nothing more than my pawn—do you really think you could ever catch his eye? The moment he learns the truth about you, death will be the only thing waiting for you."

He pulled a handkerchief from his suit pocket, meticulously wiping the blood from his fingers. "Wake up, Isabella. You don’t stand a chance."

"And what about you?"

With a desperate burst of defiance, she smiled through bloodied lips. "Do you think you're worthy of Evelyn? No matter how hard you try, in her eyes, it's always Sebastian. Only Sebastian."

Nathaniel's face twisted as if struck. His fists clenched, knuckles cracking with terrifying force.

"Isabella! Just stop!" Harvey, sweating profusely, stepped between them. "Mr. Sinclair, think rationally! You can't hit her again—you might actually kill her! And what use is a corpse to you? That's a loss, isn't it?"

Nathaniel's expression darkened, then slowly eased.

Harvey knew him too well—knew what he wanted.

Nathaniel was the embodiment of calculated self-interest. He only valued what benefited him.

As long as Isabella had use, he wouldn’t destroy her.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

Nathaniel turned away, tossing the handkerchief aside. The moment he saw the caller ID, his demeanor shifted. He answered immediately.

"Mr. Sinclair, you must be feeling triumphant lately."

The voice on the other end was crisp, laced with condescension. "With all obstacles removed, the entire Kingsley family despises Sebastian. They're at war with him. Your chances with Ms. Kingsley must be looking up, no?"

Nathaniel's jaw tightened, recalling Evelyn’s disdain and Emeric’s indifference. "I appreciate your assistance, but the situation is... complicated. Still, I swear—I won’t give up on Evelyn, not even in death."

"Ah, you're still too soft. Hesitation only brings you pain while your enemies rejoice." The man’s voice dripped with lazy amusement. "If I were you, I'd take what I wanted by force. Even if she resists, it's better than wasting my efforts. And if that fails—ruin her completely."

Nathaniel froze. "I need more time. There are... loose ends to tie up. Once that's done, I'll make Evelyn mine."

"Put your family drama aside. You have a bigger problem."

The man’s tone turned icy. "Elspeth’s trial is approaching. Neither Frederic nor his lawyers could stop it."

"The prosecutor is Evelyn’s brother, Arnold. The lead detective is her other brother, Aaron. The judiciary is stacked with Kingsley loyalists. Frederic’s hands are tied."

"Ward has already sung like a canary. Without concrete evidence linking Elspeth to murder, a harsh sentence is unlikely. But mark my words—Sebastian and Evelyn won’t let her off easy. And they certainly won’t spare you."

A dark chuckle. "What will you do, Mr. Sinclair? Your fiancée is hell-bent on seeing you dead."

Nathaniel adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his eyes bottomless. "Even if I can’t have her love, her hatred is worth living for."

"And Eden? If he falls into Evelyn and Sebastian’s hands, your days are numbered."

"A new private jet arrives next week."

Nathaniel’s smile was charming, yet chilling. "Then, I’ll send him and his brothers on a one-way trip to hell."

Alexander, after a brief reunion with his sister, left early to update his brothers.

Evelyn, still reeling from the night before, felt filthy despite her clean pajamas. Her hair and skin carried the grime of the ordeal—an unbearable torment for someone as fastidious as her.

"Ugh, I reek!"

She wrinkled her nose, nearly gagging. "I can’t stand it! I feel like a worm dragged through mud—I need a shower!"

Sebastian pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her hair. "You smell sweet to me."

"I don’t care. I need to wash!" She squirmed in his embrace, restless as a slippery eel.

"Evelyn, you just recovered from a fever. Your body is weak. A shower could make it worse."

His fingers brushed her forehead, voice tender. "If you’re uncomfortable, I can sponge you down. How does that sound?"

"No! That’s not the same!"

She wrapped her arms around his waist, tilting her head back. Her eyes shimmered with playful pleading. "Please? Just turn up the heat in the bathroom. I’ll be fine."

Sebastian’s lashes lowered as he gazed at her. His resolve crumbled. "I can never refuse you. Fine. I’ll draw your bath and warm the room."

As he moved to stand, Evelyn suddenly grabbed his hand.

"Sebastian." Her doe eyes held his.

His pulse stuttered. "...Together?"

"Together."

His eyes darkened. In one swift motion, he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the bathroom like a cherished princess.

Steam filled the room as Evelyn sank into the bubbled water, utterly exposed before him.

Yet Sebastian remained fully dressed—white shirt, black trousers—kneeling beside the tub like a devoted servant, gently washing her.

Evelyn scooped foam and blew it at him. "Pfft!"

"Mischief," he chuckled, bubbles clinging to his brows as he pinched her chin affectionately.

"What’s gotten into you today? So... restrained."

Her body rose slightly from the water, lips brushing his ear. "Usually, you’re like a starving wolf. Can’t keep your hands off me. When did you become so... chaste?"

His chest ached.

Once, he had craved her day and night.

Now, he felt unworthy.

"Evelyn... can I ask you something?"

His voice was rough, measured. "Back then... why didn’t you tell me?"

The question haunted him. If he had known about the baby—if he had known they’d lost their child—

"Sebastian, stop torturing yourself. It wasn’t just your fault. As the mother, I failed too."

Her lashes fluttered, smile accepting. "Even if you had known, it would’ve been too late. The important thing is Grandpa survived. That alone was a blessing. Otherwise, I’d carry that guilt forever."

Through the steam, Sebastian’s throat tightened. "And after? You had countless chances. Why stay silent?"

She sank deeper, voice small. "You were always traveling, coming home exhausted, irritable. I didn’t want to add to your burden. Didn’t want you to feel... trapped."

"Trapped?"

"Because back then... you didn’t love me."

Her fingers curled into the water. "Having a child with a woman you didn’t love—that’s a prison, isn’t it? I wanted you to love me, but not out of obligation. I know your heart. That’s why I couldn’t chain you with guilt."

So all her suffering stemmed from him—a so-called "good man"?

Tears fell, cutting through the foam on his cheeks.

"Evelyn... what’s so good about me? You shouldn’t have loved me." His voice broke like a lost child’s.

"Fool. If not you, who else?" Her damp hand gripped his. "You were the light I chased. If you want to make it up to me—then promise never to let go."

With a tug—

She yanked him into the tub. Water splashed, bubbles erupting as their lips crashed together in a feverish kiss.

Lost in the warmth, they drowned in each other.

Later, night fell.

Though cleansed by Sebastian’s love, Evelyn’s fever spiked.

Jareth’s personal doctor arrived, administering an IV.

Once settled with an ice pack on her forehead, she finally relaxed.

Sebastian adjusted the drip, kissing her heated cheek. "I told you not to bathe. Next time, no arguments."

She smirked. "And how exactly did this fever return, huh?"

His ears reddened.

Just then, Gordon called.

"Gordon. What is it?"

"Sir! Byron’s been bailed out—by the Sinclairs!"