Chapter 387

The following morning at Blackwood Industries, Oliver Sinclair hurriedly knocked on Nathan Blackwood's office door before barging in.

"Mr. Blackwood, I've uncovered—Ahhh!"

His warning came too late.

Nathan had already taken a bite of the pastry from the suspiciously tainted box.

Crunch.

Nathan chewed slowly, savoring the taste, his eyes narrowing slightly in satisfaction.

"Sir! You can't eat that! It was literally in the trash!" Oliver's voice cracked with panic.

"The box is dirty, not the contents." Nathan took another deliberate bite.

The flavor was exquisite.

A bitter pang twisted in his chest.

Once, Evelyn Carter had prepared these for him daily.

He had taken it for granted.

Now, the only way he could taste her creations was by scavenging them from discarded packaging.

Pathetic.

"Your report?" Nathan set aside the remaining pastry, his tone deceptively calm.

Oliver cleared his throat. "After some... persuasion, the influencer finally confessed—he was just a pawn! Someone anonymously sent him Isabella Wang's wedding details to leak."

Nathan's gaze sharpened. "And?"

"He has no idea who hired him."

Nathan exhaled through his nose. "Oliver, are you taking night classes?"

"Pardon?"

"How to Waste My Time 101?" Nathan's knuckles cracked ominously. "This is your critical lead? No name, no mastermind—just a dead end?"

Oliver paled. "Wait! I traced the payment account! I just didn’t verify it yet because I rushed back to—"

"Give me the details." Nathan extended his hand. "Before Evelyn's brothers solve this first."

Oliver blinked. "You're... personally handling this?"

A rare flicker of urgency crossed Nathan's face.

Oliver nearly teared up. "Sir, seeing you back in action is—"

"One more word," Nathan warned, "and your bonus funds a charity of my choice."

Oliver snapped his mouth shut.

Years ago at the military academy, Nathan had mastered cyber tracking and decryption.

But after inheriting Blackwood Industries, those skills gathered dust.

The last time he'd hacked—when Evelyn was still "Anna Brown"—he'd hit digital walls.

Her mysterious male acquaintances? Untraceable.

A warning: those men weren’t ordinary.

This time, though, the culprit wouldn’t be so elusive.

Oliver smirked. "Sir, be honest—do you still have feelings for Evelyn?"

Nathan’s stare could freeze lava. "Do you have a death wish, or are you just generous with your salary?"