Chapter 455

Evelyn studied Nathaniel's hesitant demeanor, realization dawning that he truly had something important to say.

This was the first time she'd ever seen him struggle so visibly with his words.

To her, Nathaniel had always been decisive—the unshakable heir of the Whitmore empire, renowned in the business world for his unwavering confidence.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, but his gaze flickered away, as if the words were lodged in his throat.

Frustration twisted his expression as he yanked at his tie.

Damn it.

After a sharp inhale, he finally met Evelyn’s eyes. "Evelyn, the truth is—"

Christopher cut in sharply, his voice laced with irritation. "What’s with the stalling? Spit it out already!"

His glare was sharp. "But let me make one thing clear—don’t even think about chasing after Evelyn again. It’s too late for regrets now."

"Choose your next words carefully, unless you want to embarrass yourself. Evelyn isn’t some lovesick fool anymore."

Christopher knew men like Nathaniel. He recognized the look—the desperate, lingering hope. And he wasn’t about to let it take root.

Nathaniel’s lip curled in disdain as he thought, The Montgomerys are insufferable.

Christopher scoffed internally. The audacity of this man, thinking he deserves a second chance.

Their glares locked, tension crackling between them like a live wire. If looks could kill, the room would’ve been a crime scene.

Evelyn, oblivious to the silent battle, spoke earnestly. "Mr. Whitmore, don’t worry. Once I finish my work, I’ll visit Eleanor. I always keep my promises."

Christopher nodded firmly. "Exactly. She held up her end—even convinced Julian to operate on your grandmother. So when are you signing those divorce papers? Don’t even think about backing out now."

Nathaniel’s jaw tightened. "This is between Evelyn and me. Who the hell do you think you are, dictating my life?"

Christopher’s temper flared. "Who am I?" He rolled up his sleeves, stepping forward. "Let me enlighten you—I’m your damn—"

"Enough!" Evelyn grabbed Christopher’s arm, cutting him off.

This was ridiculous. Their petty squabbling was beneath them.

Without another word, she hauled Christopher out of the private room, ignoring Nathaniel’s burning glare. If looks could kill, Christopher would’ve been six feet under.

Left alone, Nathaniel slumped into a chair, snatching the abandoned cigarette box from Theodore’s seat. He lit one but didn’t take a drag—just let it burn between his fingers, lost in thought.

Robert stood silently nearby, watching. He’d never seen Nathaniel like this—defeated, like a stray dog licking its wounds after a brutal fight.

Meanwhile, Evelyn finally managed to drag Christopher outside, her forehead damp with exertion. "Christopher, let’s just go."

"Don’t stop me, Evelyn!" he snapped. "I’m not letting him walk all over you. Who does he think he is? I’m his damn brother-in-law!"

His voice dripped with contempt. "If he wants to marry a Montgomery, he better learn some humility. His arrogance is disgusting."

Realizing reasoning wouldn’t work, Evelyn suddenly swayed, pressing a hand to her forehead. "Christopher… I feel dizzy."

Instantly, his anger evaporated. He guided her into the car, uncapping a water bottle. "Drink this. If you still feel unwell, we’re going straight to Julian."

She gave him a weak smile, her eyes glistening. "I’m fine. Just exhausted. I need to rest."

Just like that, the storm inside Christopher stilled.