Chapter 475

At St. Elizabeth Medical Center, Michael Sterling was keeping Evelyn Thorne company in the private ward.

Nathan Cross stood guard outside, waiting for Dominic's arrival.

When Dominic appeared, Nathan quickly composed himself. "Sir, the doctors insist Ms. Thorne requires complete bed rest for at least a week. They've advised against any emotional distress, so—"

"Are you attempting to stop me?" Dominic's icy glare cut through Nathan like winter wind.

Nathan immediately stepped aside, opening the door without another word.

Upon entering, Dominic found Michael standing protectively near Evelyn's bedside. Nathan shot Michael a pointed look, but the younger man squared his shoulders.

"The pregnancy... it's over," Michael announced bluntly.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through Dominic's stormy eyes.

"Leave us. I need to speak with Evelyn alone," Dominic commanded, his voice rough with restrained emotion.

Evelyn, who had been staring blankly at the ceiling, turned her head slightly at his voice.

Nathan seized Michael's arm and practically dragged him from the room.

The door clicked shut, leaving Dominic and Evelyn in heavy silence.

Dominic approached the bed slowly, taking Evelyn's IV-tethered hand in his. His touch was unexpectedly gentle. "Evelyn, losing the baby... it's not the end. Don't torment yourself over this."

His words hung between them, so utterly wrong that Evelyn couldn't find her voice.

She studied his devastatingly handsome face—the sharp jawline, those piercing eyes—and wondered if this was some cruel hallucination.

How could he possibly be relieved about her miscarriage?

"Your health comes first now. Focus on recovering," Dominic continued, his thumb brushing lightly over her knuckles.

The tenderness in his voice made Evelyn's stomach twist. She watched as his gaze traced the pallor of her face, the dark circles beneath her eyes.

Whether she'd wanted this pregnancy or not, the physical toll was undeniable. Dominic's expression suggested he understood this all too well.

"Recover my health..." Evelyn echoed faintly, her brow furrowing. "And then what?"

Dominic's grip tightened almost imperceptibly. He recognized the fear behind her question—the unspoken dread that he'd view her as nothing more than a vessel for his heir.

"You were never my enemy, Evelyn."

Seeing her fragile state, Dominic chose his next words carefully. "I won't force another pregnancy on you."

The knot in Evelyn's chest loosened slightly, but suspicion lingered. "You don't think I... fell on purpose?"

Dominic's eyes widened briefly before narrowing. "Apparently you've upgraded me from monster to complete psychopath in your estimation."

Against all odds, Evelyn felt the ghost of a smile tug at her lips.

Dominic's expression turned stern. "No more reckless stunts, Evelyn. Crashing conferences, confronting enemies on stage—this isn't how we handle things."

Indignation flared in Evelyn's chest. "Says the man who solves every problem with his fists. My recklessness pales in comparison to your methods."

"Still sharp-tongued, I see," Dominic muttered, reaching for the food container on the bedside table. He lifted the lid, revealing still-steaming soup. "You should eat. It's warm."

"I can't. I'll vomit."

Dominic frowned. "You're still nauseous? That doesn't make sense if..." His voice trailed off as realization dawned.

"The doctor never confirmed a miscarriage," Evelyn said flatly, watching his reaction closely.

Michael had lied. She'd allowed the deception, curious to see how Dominic would respond.

Dominic's fingers tightened around the soup bowl. Rather than relief, dark anger clouded his features at being manipulated.

He stood abruptly, chair scraping against the floor.

"Michael wasn't entirely wrong," Evelyn called after him as he strode toward the door. "The baby's condition is precarious. Bed rest is mandatory. There's no guarantee it will survive the week."

Dominic froze mid-step, his entire body going rigid. The air between them crackled with unspoken tension.