Chapter 493

Evelyn's head snapped toward the doorway at the sound. Nathaniel stood there, his imposing figure casting a long shadow across the hospital floor.

Her breath caught in her throat. She hadn't anticipated his arrival.

Those fathomless dark eyes gave nothing away as he stepped inside, his tailored suit jacket slung over one shoulder. The crisp white shirt and navy tie suggested he'd come straight from the office.

Eleanor arched an eyebrow. "Well? Aren't you going to answer me?"

Evelyn dropped her gaze, unable to meet his piercing stare. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.

Hadn't this been their agreed-upon resolution?

"Evelyn. Outside. Now."

Before she could protest, his fingers closed around her wrist, pulling her into the corridor.

She stumbled to keep pace with his long strides. "Nathaniel, what's this about?"

He whirled around abruptly. "Did it ever occur to you that the truth might be too much for her to handle?" His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "She could have collapsed. She's still recovering!"

"But we agreed I would tell her!" Evelyn wrenched her arm free. "Why are you making this sound like some terrible mistake? Do you honestly believe deception is the answer?"

His lips thinned. "I didn't expect you to drop this bombshell while she's still hospitalized." A bitter laugh escaped him. "Or were you just worried our divorce wouldn't proceed quickly enough for your liking?"

The accusation stung. "Think whatever you want," she shot back, blinking rapidly. "I've done what needed to be done."

His gaze turned glacial. "How exactly did you explain the pregnancy?"

Her throat tightened. "I told her it was fabricated."

Nathaniel's mocking laugh echoed down the sterile hallway. "Evelyn Carter, does your conscience ever trouble you?"

She had no defense. Not when she couldn't reveal the real reason for ending her pregnancy. Hot tears pricked at her eyelids - anger at him, at herself, at this impossible situation.

"Pathetic," he murmured.

The dam broke. A single tear traced down her cheek just as Eleanor's cane tapped sharply against the linoleum.

"Nathaniel Whitmore! Is this how you speak to your wife?" The elderly woman stood framed in the doorway, her expression thunderous.

Evelyn's stomach dropped. How much had Eleanor heard?

Eleanor advanced toward them, leaning heavily on her cane. "Well? Answer me, young man!"

Nathaniel's jaw clenched. "Grandmother, how much of that did you—"

"Enough to know my grandson has been treating his wife abominably!" Eleanor cut him off. "What other cruel things have you been saying?"

Evelyn grasped Eleanor's trembling hand. "Please, don't upset yourself—"

"How can I not be upset?" Eleanor's voice broke. "I thought we'd given you happiness, Evelyn. Instead, you've been suffering in silence."

"Let's go back inside," Evelyn urged gently, shooting Nathaniel a warning look. "We can discuss this properly."