Chapter 488

"You're too forgiving, Evelyn. It hurts to see you like this. Don't worry. At the upcoming charity gala this weekend, we'll all have your back."

Olivia clenched her fists, remembering the auction that would take place during the event.

Since the Whitmores were hosting, she was determined to make them regret their actions.

How could she stand by when Nathaniel had already failed Evelyn so terribly?

Meanwhile, Evelyn mistook Olivia's silence for resignation and sighed in relief. "We've got everything we need. Let's head home."

"Alright. Benjamin, the car, please." Olivia had splurged on designer outfits as if they were mere trinkets, her nonchalance almost practiced.

That odd sensation prickled at Evelyn again.

But Olivia's spending wasn't an issue—not when Alexander and the others had fortunes to spare.

They returned laden with shopping bags. Margaret scolded them for their extravagance, yet couldn't resist trying on her new dress with glee.

Evelyn showered and settled into bed when her phone buzzed. A message glowed on the screen: Why refuse the clutch? It matched your gown perfectly.

Nathaniel Whitmore. Again.

Her fingers flew across the keyboard: Because I didn't want it.

The instant she hit send, his call came through.

She hesitated, then answered. "Yes?"

"Congratulations on reuniting with your family. Grandmother will be delighted to hear the news."

A beat of silence. "I'll tell her myself soon."

"Rumor has it they're wealthy. Who exactly are they?"

"From Nord City. Not obscenely rich, but they spoil me rotten. Money's never an object where I'm concerned."

"No wonder you were so indifferent during the divorce."

The memory of Beatrice's twisted smirk buoyed her. "Exactly. I've never needed your money."

Nathaniel's chest constricted. With every word, Evelyn felt further out of reach.

She smirked. "Oh? Did Mrs. Whitmore tattle on me?"

"Yes. She demanded I have you thrown out of the boutique."

"And yet, here we are."

"I'm a businessman, Evelyn. Rules are rules. VIP clients reserve the right to privacy."

Her laugh was brittle. "How very professional of you, Nathaniel Whitmore."

She ended the call.

He stared at his phone, an inexplicable weight crushing his ribs.

His gaze drifted to the skyline beyond his office window.

Once, he'd come home to her every night. Now, he couldn't recall the last time he'd stepped into their marital penthouse before midnight.

The place felt hollow without her. Like a museum of what he'd lost.

Frustrated, he dialed Gregory. "Any leads on Evelyn's family?"

"Nothing. Her records are airtight—like someone scrubbed them clean."

Nathaniel rubbed his temples. A thought struck him: Julian Montgomery also hailed from Nord City.

Ice crept into his voice. "No wonder the Montgomerys, especially Julian, are so close to her. It's familial."

"Wouldn't that make them ideal partners?" Gregory mused.

Nathaniel's expression darkened. "Shut your mouth."

"Sir, if you truly want her back, make her fall for you before the divorce finalizes. If that fails... well, there's always the nuclear option. Refuse to sign."

A pause.

The idea had merit.