Chapter 385

Beatrice sighed, her voice heavy with guilt. "Evelyn, this is all my fault. If I hadn't been such a burden, none of this would've happened. It must be because of me. I'm old. I don't need surgery. I've lived long enough."

"Grandma, this has nothing to do with you. Please, don't think like that."

But Beatrice couldn't shake the guilt, convinced she was the root of everything. Overwhelmed, her breathing grew uneven, forcing her to call for a nurse. After taking her medication, she stabilized—thankfully, nothing serious. Still, Evelyn felt a cold dread settle in her chest.

She leaned closer, voice soft but firm. "Don't say things like that again. No matter what, I won’t leave you. If you really don’t want to trouble me, then follow the doctor’s orders. I’m pregnant now. It would break my heart if you gave up." She kept talking, unsure if Beatrice was listening, but eventually, the protests stopped.

Evelyn stayed until Beatrice fell asleep, then quietly left.

Back in her car, her expression was ice. She told the driver to take her straight to the office.

Just hours ago, Nathaniel had whispered that he loved the mother of his child. Now, rumors about him and Isabella were everywhere.

It was almost funny.

She was glad she hadn’t answered him.

If she had let herself believe him, even for a second, she’d be humiliated beyond repair.

At the office, Charlotte was reviewing drafts with Gabrielle. Seeing Evelyn’s stormy expression, Charlotte dismissed the others to fix the issues she’d pointed out, then turned to her. "What’s wrong?"

Charlotte had been too buried in work to check the news.

Evelyn unlocked her phone, pulled up the trending headlines, and handed it over.

Charlotte’s eyes darkened. "What the hell is Nathaniel doing?"

"Do you think he loves Isabella?" Evelyn asked, tone flat.

Charlotte hesitated. "Why does that matter? Even if he does, you’re just going to let them walk all over you?"

"Why not? Some things aren’t meant to be mine."

"Evelyn, are you insane? Pregnancy hormones messing with your head?"

A bitter smile touched Evelyn’s lips, her gaze distant. Was she really okay with this?

She scoffed.

At the hospital, Isabella’s examination was done. Just a sprained ankle—nothing serious. A few days of rest would fix it.

Nathaniel had arranged a private room. With Vanessa and Emily handling the paperwork and gathering her things, they were left alone.

He studied Isabella on the bed. "Did you remember something?"

She hesitated, a flicker of something sly in her eyes before she masked it.

Biting her lip, she whispered, "The man who attacked us in the car... I remember his face now. He had a scar. Left cheek. Mid-forties..."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. My therapist said the trauma blocked it. Maybe focusing on it helped me remember."

Nathaniel gave a slight nod, expression unreadable.

His fingers tightened around his phone, which showed missed calls from Evelyn. He frowned but dialed Samuel first.

"Find this man," he ordered. "Scar on the left cheek. Forties."

With a clear lead, the search would be easier.