Chapter 20

Evelyn and Penelope were in similar states of dishevelment. Their hair was tangled, their clothes wrinkled, and faint marks from the spatula Evelyn had wielded still lingered on their skin.

"Mrs. Whitmore will defend me!" Victoria shrieked, her voice shrill with desperation.

"But you're standing in the Whitmore residence right now," Evelyn countered coolly. "And Grandmother Eleanor is the one who holds all the power here. Who do you think she'll believe—you two, or me?"

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "Consider this your only warning. Cross me again, and next time, the consequences won't be so light."

Penelope swallowed hard, her face pale with defeat. She knew Evelyn was right. Eleanor would side with her without hesitation—that cunning little—

Without another word, Evelyn turned on her heel and strode out of the kitchen.

Victoria and Penelope collapsed onto the floor, their pride wounded, their fury simmering beneath the surface. They had been humiliated and left with no way to retaliate.

Clenching her fists, Victoria hissed through gritted teeth, "This isn't over. Just you wait."

Unbeknownst to them, Nathaniel had been standing just outside the kitchen, observing the entire confrontation. His brow arched slightly as he watched Evelyn walk away, unhurried and unbothered.

He hadn't expected her to emerge victorious—especially not while injured and outnumbered.

His assistant, Robert, stepped forward hesitantly. "Mr. Whitmore, this confirms that Ms. Sinclair was indeed the one who framed Ms. Evelyn. Should we intervene? What if she seeks revenge?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Don't waste your time. As long as Victoria has even a shred of self-preservation, she won’t dare push this further."

With that, he turned and left.

By the time Evelyn returned to the living room, she had smoothed her expression into perfect neutrality, as if nothing had happened.

The women moved to the dining room, taking their seats—but Nathaniel was conspicuously absent.

Eleanor frowned and gestured to one of the household staff. "Victoria, go fetch that stubborn grandson of mine. It's dinnertime—where has he disappeared to now?"

Evelyn ladled a bowl of soup for Eleanor, her voice soft. "Here, Grandmother. I'm sorry the soup I made earlier was ruined."

She didn’t particularly care whether Nathaniel showed up or not. In fact, she wouldn’t be surprised if he was off somewhere comforting that insufferable Victoria.

Eleanor waved a dismissive hand. "The soup doesn’t matter. What matters is your hand. What if it scars?"

The genuine concern in Eleanor’s voice made Evelyn’s chest tighten with guilt. She set down her spoon and hesitated before speaking. "Grandmother, there's something I need to discuss with you."

Eleanor looked up. "What is it?"

Before Evelyn could answer, Nathaniel’s voice cut in. "It's about the surgery."

He slid into the seat beside her, his arm brushing against hers as he settled in. His expression was unreadable.

Evelyn stiffened. Had he interrupted her on purpose?

Eleanor scoffed. "I'm perfectly fine. I don’t need any surgery. I know exactly what Victoria is after—tell her to stop dreaming."

As she spoke, she shot Beatrice a pointed glare.

Nathaniel’s brows furrowed. "Those are two separate issues. Don’t conflate them."

"To me, they’re one and the same."

Beatrice chose that moment to interject. "Don’t tell me someone’s been whispering in your ear. Why refuse the surgery? We’re talking about the top cardiovascular surgeon in the country—his success rate is impeccable."

She paused, then added pointedly, "He’s Ms. Sinclair’s brother, and if not for her connections, we wouldn’t even have access to him."

Evelyn’s appetite vanished.

She had never imagined Eleanor would refuse the surgery—for her sake. What had she ever done to deserve such loyalty?

And yet, she had already failed her.

The signed divorce papers weighed heavily in her mind.