Chapter 23

"Evelyn, why are you avoiding the question? Speak up."

Eleanor Whitmore's piercing gaze made Evelyn shift uncomfortably. She glanced at Nathaniel before mumbling, "W-What exactly do you want me to say? You should ask Nathaniel about this."

Why were they putting her on the spot like this?

Except for that one drunken night, Nathaniel had never touched her. How could she possibly be pregnant?

Nathaniel cleared his throat smoothly. "Mother, must we discuss such private matters? We've been careful with protection. That's why there's no pregnancy. I'm not ready for children yet."

When Evelyn heard his last words, her hand instinctively moved to her abdomen. She needed to protect this baby at all costs.

Eleanor wrung her hands anxiously. "You're thirty years old! When will you be ready? I might die before seeing my great-grandchild!"

"Grandmother," Nathaniel said firmly, "if you agree to the surgery, you'll live long enough to hold your great-grandchild."

"Don't try to manipulate me!" Eleanor scoffed. "I'll consider the surgery when Evelyn's pregnant. Not a moment sooner!" With that, she turned and marched out.

Victoria Hawthorne followed discreetly, murmuring, "Mrs. Whitmore and Mr. Nathaniel have such a loving relationship. A child will surely come soon."

Once Eleanor left, Beatrice Harrington gave Evelyn a disdainful look. "It's better this way. When Victoria Sinclair marries into our family, she'll give Nathaniel proper heirs."

"After all, as the Sinclair heiress, she'd never accept being a stepmother." Beatrice swept out without another glance.

Evelyn's lips curled bitterly. Of course, only someone like Victoria Sinclair was worthy of bearing the Whitmore heir. A nobody like her didn't qualify.

She turned to Nathaniel. "I never took you for a liar, Mr. Whitmore. Since when have we used protection?"

Nathaniel blinked, then smirked. "Should I take that as an invitation?"

Evelyn's cheeks burned. Since when did the stoic Nathaniel Whitmore make such crude jokes?

"Don't flatter yourself," she snapped, averting her gaze.

As she moved to leave, Nathaniel blocked her path. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Home."

His eyes darkened. "Home? Or that hotel room?"

Evelyn clenched her fists. Was he mocking her? She forced a saccharine smile. "Why the interrogation, Mr. Whitmore? Jealous? Maybe you should listen to your mother and get that fertility checkup."

"Why would I need that?"

"Don't play dumb. We both know the lack of children isn't my fault. Clearly, you're the one with... performance issues."

Nathaniel's expression turned dangerous. "You know perfectly well how 'healthy' I am. Or did you forget our night together?"

Evelyn stiffened but held her ground. "Oh I remember. That's exactly why I'm suggesting the checkup. Frankly, it was rather... forgettable."

The moment the words left her mouth, she saw Nathaniel's face darken. No man enjoyed such an insult.

Strangely, Evelyn felt a thrill at his reaction. His discomfort was... satisfying.

She'd barely taken three steps when strong arms lifted her off the ground. The world spun as Nathaniel tossed her over his shoulder.

"Put me down!" She pounded his back.

"You'll answer for that remark," Nathaniel growled. The audacity of this woman! First she spends the night with another man, now she questions his virility?

That night a month ago, he'd been drunk. It was his first time. Of course it hadn't been perfect. But to imply he was inadequate?

As Evelyn squirmed, Nathaniel smacked her thigh. "Stop moving." He couldn't risk her harming the baby - not that she knew he was aware of her secret.