Chapter 113

Sleep eluded Evelyn Carter the entire night.

Every time she shut her eyes, Nathan Blackwood's striking features materialized in her mind. The phantom sensation of his warm hands gripping her waist from their earlier encounter lingered on her skin.

She bolted upright in bed.

They were divorced now. Why did he still haunt her like this?

After two fitful hours of sleep, Evelyn rose before dawn. She spent an hour kayaking across the moonlit lake, trying to cool the restless energy coursing through her veins.

Theodore Winslow had prepared her usual breakfast spread when she returned.

Evelyn picked at her avocado toast and truffle omelet with uncharacteristic lethargy. Even her favorite Ethiopian coffee failed to rouse her usual spark.

"Ms. Carter, are you concerned about Skylar's condition?" Theodore inquired while deftly wiping a crumb from her fingers with a monogrammed linen napkin.

"I despise losing control of situations," Evelyn admitted through clenched teeth, her obsidian eyes narrowing.

She left the second part unspoken: And I absolutely loathe Nathan Blackwood dictating my life again!

"What shall we do about Cassandra then?" Theodore pressed gently.

"Give me time to strategize. We must resolve this before public interest wanes."

Her phone vibrated against the marble breakfast table. The caller ID made her pulse jump.

"Father? Is everything alright?"

"Must something be wrong for me to call my daughter?" Harrison Kingsley's gruff voice held its usual edge. "When are you coming home? Your mothers insist on throwing you a celebration."

"A...celebration?" Evelyn's brow furrowed.

"Don't play coy. That viral footage of you saving that girl at the hotel? The internet's calling you 'Heaven's Angel' now."

Evelyn groaned, massaging her temples. That ridiculous moniker made her headache intensify.

"Your mothers believe you've brought honor to the Kingsley name. We're hosting a family dinner!"

While Evelyn seethed about the unwanted publicity, her father and stepmothers wanted to throw a party. Perfect.

"Cancel it. I'm having the story suppressed. I refuse to become some media spectacle."

"Must you always be so difficult?" Harrison's voice took on that familiar petulant tone. "Your mothers miss you. It's been months. Can't you humor them for one evening?"

"Fine. I'll visit next week," Evelyn conceded through gritted teeth.

"Good." Harrison's tone shifted abruptly. "And is Maxwell home?"

Evelyn stiffened. "Yes."

"Ha! If Sebastian hadn't told me, I'd be planning that ungrateful whelp's memorial by now!" Harrison's temper flared at the mention of his fourth son. "Bring him with you. If he refuses, consider himself disowned. The Kingsley gates will remain closed to him forever!"

After hanging up, Evelyn's delicate fingers plucked a piece of dark chocolate from Theodore's breast pocket. She bit into it with more force than necessary.

"Trouble?" Theodore inquired.

"Father demands I bring Maxwell home for dinner."

Theodore winced. He knew all too well about the Kingsley men's legendary stubbornness.

"Harrison's temper versus Maxwell's obstinacy? That's apocalyptic."

Evelyn's mood lifted slightly as the rich chocolate melted on her tongue. "I know my brother. He'll listen to me about anything except facing Father. I'll need to outmaneuver him, not force him."

After her morning routine, Evelyn headed to Monarch Grand Hotel.

Her Bugatti had barely approached the entrance when she spotted the swarm of reporters camped outside.

Evelyn's eyes narrowed to slits. Theodore immediately called hotel security for intel.

"Those journalists are here about the 'angel' incident," he reported. "Somehow they've identified the heroine as one of our employees..."