Chapter 196

Evelyn nearly choked on her jasmine tea. She grabbed a napkin to wipe her lips.

"Miss Montgomery, let me make this clear—I was the one who filed for divorce from Dominic. As for you 'taking' him from me?" Evelyn scoffed. "What bothers me is that you're not even married yet! Look at you two—he's devastatingly handsome, you're stunningly beautiful, a match made in heaven! When's the wedding? I'll send an extravagant gift!"

Zoe's smile faltered. "Now I understand your perspective. But I'm afraid I must disappoint you—we have no immediate plans to marry."

"Why not?" Evelyn took another sip, eyes sharp. "Is it you who's reluctant? Or him? If it's him, I'd be happy to have a little chat with him on your behalf."

Zoe stiffened. "That won't be necessary. We prefer to let things unfold naturally." She tilted her head. "Miss Thorne, earlier you called me 'insensitive.' I don't understand why you'd insult me at our first meeting."

Evelyn saw right through the act.

The way Zoe's eyes shimmered with manufactured hurt—it was almost impressive. Almost.

"Didn't they teach you in medical school about the dangers of greed?" Evelyn's voice was honeyed steel.

Zoe blinked, waiting.

Evelyn suppressed an eye roll.

Was this woman seriously playing dumb?

If Zoe had simply taken Dominic's money for Sophia's treatment, Evelyn might have respected her. But this?

Demanding his affection as payment?

Disgusting.

Even divorced, Evelyn couldn't stand seeing Dominic manipulated like this.

"Miss Thorne, do you truly believe I'm overstepping by wanting to be with Dominic?" Zoe pressed.

When Evelyn remained silent, Zoe continued, "You may not realize—Sophia's condition requires ongoing treatment. My primary practice was overseas. Dominic requested I relocate permanently to oversee her care. I sacrificed my international career for this."

"How noble," Evelyn drawled. "Though I heard St. Elizabeth pays poorly. Surely Dominic offered generous compensation? Unless..." Her gaze turned razor-sharp. "...you're aiming for more than money. Half his empire, perhaps?"

Zoe's face whitened. "Are you jealous? Because my surgical skills surpass yours?"

Evelyn's appetite vanished.

"Jealous?" Evelyn feigned a gasp. "How could I compare to you? We both studied under Professor Whitmore, yet you're the prodigy while I'm... what was it you called me? 'Mediocre'?" She leaned forward. "Funny—Dominic paid a fortune for Sebastian to treat Sophia, yet he refused to operate. But you? You waltzed in and solved everything. My, my... you must be better than the great Sebastian Whitmore himself."

Zoe's composure cracked.

The barb landed—Evelyn saw it in the twitch of her manicured fingers.

Good.

Zoe recovered quickly. "Evelyn, your bitterness is showing. I earned my skills through hard work. If you'd applied yourself—"

"Ah yes, the legendary 'surgeon's hands.'" Evelyn cut her off. "Sebastian's favorite party trick—telling students they were 'born to hold a scalpel.'"

Zoe extended her hands, pride flashing. "He wasn't wrong."

Evelyn refused to look.

This was absurd.

Were they really having this conversation?

Zoe kept waving her hands like some deranged hand model.

Evelyn reached out to push them away—

"Ah!" Zoe shrieked.

The teapot toppled.

Boiling water cascaded over those precious, "irreplaceable" hands.