Chapter 10

The mansion's grand living room plunged into such profound silence that Evelyn could hear her own pulse throbbing in her ears.

Evelyn stormed upstairs, slamming her bedroom door with such force that the walls trembled.

The violent impact echoed through the entire Blackwood estate.

No one dared make such noise in Dominic Blackwood's presence - it was practically a death wish.

All eyes darted to Dominic, anticipating his reaction. Yet the billionaire remained impassive, his expression unreadable.

Normally, any sound exceeding conversational volume would earn his immediate displeasure.

Evelyn's door slam had shattered that threshold spectacularly. So why wasn't he furious?

More perplexing - she'd just destroyed a $30,000 bottle of Dom Pérignon without hesitation.

"Christ, I heard Miss Thorne's father died recently," someone finally whispered. "She's wearing black - probably just back from the funeral!"

The speaker was Bianca Chamberlain, Sterling Group's PR director.

Tonight was her birthday celebration, coinciding with Dominic's recovery from illness.

Her earlier confrontation with Evelyn had left her pride wounded.

Though Dominic appeared unbothered, Bianca knew his temper could ignite without warning.

She approached him cautiously. "Dominic, I...I didn't know about her father."

Dominic stubbed out his cigarette with deliberate precision. His long fingers curled around the crystal tumbler, draining it in one smooth motion.

"Happy birthday," he murmured, his voice like velvet over steel.

Bianca's cheeks flushed. "Thank you."

His next words froze her blood. "Evelyn Thorne is off-limits." He adjusted his cufflinks with lethal calm. "Even as a Blackwood pet, only I get to discipline her."

Bianca's breath hitched. "But you're divorcing her! She'll be less than a pet then!"

Dominic's gaze turned arctic. "What's mine stays mine until I discard it. No one humiliates her but me."

Mrs. Wilkins entered to clear the shattered glass and stained carpet.

Someone refilled Dominic's drink.

"Don't be harsh, Dom. Bianca meant no harm," Lucas Grant, the CFO, interjected. "She wouldn't actually touch Miss Thorne."

"Exactly!" another executive chimed in. "Bianca, take three shots as penance! Birthday girl or not, you crossed a line!"

As Bianca reached for her glass, Dominic signaled his bodyguard.

"Enjoy your party," he said coolly before exiting.

Bianca watched him leave, eyes glistening, then downed three consecutive shots.

"Damn, both our stars have left. Do we keep drinking?" someone asked.

"Obviously! Maybe this'll cure Bianca's Mrs. Blackwood delusions!"

"Don't count on it. Dominic's still divorcing her."

"Speaking of Evelyn Thorne - stunning but volatile. How does he tolerate it?"

...

In the guest suite, Evelyn curled into herself, silent tears streaking her face.

Three days of composure shattered like the wine bottle downstairs.

Her father's dying apology haunted her.

All her hatred had dissolved, leaving only hollow grief.

She cried herself into exhausted sleep.

Morning brought swollen eyes and throbbing temples.

Changing into fresh loungewear, Evelyn emerged ravenous - she'd barely eaten in days.

She froze in the dining room doorway at the sight of Dominic's broad shoulders.

Mrs. Wilkins brightened. "Breakfast is served, Madam!"

Previously, Evelyn avoided Dominic like the plague, terrified of provoking him.

Now, impending divorce papers lent her courage.

She took the farthest seat. As Mrs. Wilkins served her omelet, Dominic spoke.

"That wine last night cost thirty grand."

His tone was conversational.

Evelyn's fork clinked against her plate.

Thirty thousand dollars? For wine?

Was he expecting reimbursement?

Did she look like she carried that kind of cash?

A cramp twisted her stomach. Cold sweat dampened her back, appetite vanishing.

Dominic studied her pallor. "Consider this a warning. Break anything else here, you'll pay retail."

Her stomach settled instantly, hunger returning.

Unlike most pregnant women suffering morning sickness, Evelyn had been relatively symptom-free.

Until now.

The bacon on her plate triggered sudden nausea. She pushed it away.

"Is the food not to your liking, Madam?" Mrs. Wilkins fretted.

"Just craving vegetarian lately," Evelyn managed.

"Of course, I'll adjust the menu," the housekeeper assured.

After breakfast, Evelyn dressed to meet Richard Thorne's lawyer.

Coincidentally, Dominic was also departing.

With bodyguards and chauffeur at his disposal, he moved with regal efficiency.

Evelyn checked her watch - 9 AM for a 10 AM meeting. The estate's gates were a ten-minute walk.

The post-rain chill bit through her coat.

Then the nausea hit violently.

A silver Bentley exited the estate, slowing as the driver spotted Evelyn.

"Sir, it's Madam Thorne," the driver noted.

Dominic's eyes snapped open.

"She's... vomiting, sir," the driver added awkwardly.

Evelyn clung to a trash bin, heaving. So much for easy pregnancy.

As she turned toward home, the Bentley idled beside her.

Sunlight glinted off polished chrome.

The rear window lowered, revealing Dominic's piercing gaze.

Evelyn's cheeks burned.

Did he suspect?

She straightened. "Breakfast disagreed with me," she lied, meeting his stare.