Chapter 427

Evelyn felt like her stomach was turning inside out.

Had it been something she ate for lunch?

As she paused to catch her breath, a bottle of chilled water appeared in front of her. She couldn’t help but notice Nathaniel’s long, elegant fingers as he held it out.

Without hesitation, Evelyn took it, twisting the cap off and gulping down a few sips. The cool liquid soothed her throat, but the discomfort in her abdomen lingered.

She pressed a hand lightly against her stomach, frowning. Something didn’t feel right.

Nathaniel’s sharp gaze followed the movement. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing serious," Evelyn murmured. "Just a bit queasy from lunch."

She didn’t think much of it—her pregnancy had been smooth so far, with only occasional bouts of nausea.

But as she turned to leave, Nathaniel caught her wrist, his grip firm. "You should get checked at the hospital."

Evelyn blinked, startled by his insistence. She pulled her hand free. "It’s really not necessary."

Nathaniel stepped in front of her, his jaw tight. "Do you even realize your condition? What if something’s wrong?"

His tone was edged with frustration, as if he couldn’t believe her carelessness.

Evelyn opened her mouth to argue, but Theodore cut in smoothly. "You’ve been working nonstop, Evelyn. Since everything’s nearly wrapped up here, why not humor Mr. Whitmore and get checked? For his peace of mind."

Evelyn couldn’t fathom why Nathaniel would be concerned about her.

Theodore’s words were clearly meant to placate him, not her.

Nathaniel’s expression darkened slightly, the air between them growing tense.

Uncomfortable, Evelyn turned away. "It’s just a stomachache. I’ll be fine."

She wasn’t about to rush to the hospital over morning sickness. The thought was embarrassing.

But as she took a few steps, her vision blurred. Her legs buckled beneath her.

Just before she hit the ground, Nathaniel’s arms wrapped around her, steadying her.

Evelyn’s eyelids fluttered weakly. The last thing she saw was Nathaniel’s striking profile—sharp, aristocratic, and unreadable.

Then darkness swallowed her.

Nathaniel lifted her effortlessly, striding out of the hall without a word.

As he settled her into the car, his voice was clipped. "Drive to the hospital. Now. Notify Dr. Whitmore—have the OB-GYN team ready."

His gaze dropped to Evelyn’s pale face, his fingers tightening slightly around her.

He kicked Frederick’s seat. "Faster."

The car surged forward.

By the time they arrived, Dr. Diana Whitmore was already waiting at the entrance.

Nathaniel carried Evelyn out, his expression unreadable. Simon hurried forward. "Mr. Whitmore, the team is prepped as you requested."

"Where’s the operating room?" Nathaniel demanded.

"Third floor," Theodore confirmed.

Nathaniel didn’t hesitate, heading straight for the elevators.

Theodore watched, baffled but silent.

Robert caught up quickly. "Sir, a gurney would be faster. The doctors can examine Ms. Carter immediately."

Nathaniel didn’t slow down. "No time."

His grip on Evelyn never loosened.