Chapter 99

Dominic slept deeply, his brow damp with sweat. Though his fever had broken, Evelyn was utterly drained. She curled up beside him and drifted into an exhausted sleep.

Evelyn awoke at half past three, her stomach growling. She slipped out of bed, changed into fresh clothes, and stepped into the living room. The scene before her made her pause—the bodyguard and driver lounged on her sofa, engrossed in a TV show, while Clara sat at the kitchen counter, scrolling absently on her phone.

Everything looked peaceful… yet it grated on her nerves how comfortably they’d made themselves at home.

"Evelyn, you must be starving," Clara said, setting her phone aside and moving toward the fridge. "Let me heat up some leftovers for you."

Evelyn strode into the living room and addressed the driver. "Your boss will probably wake soon. Go fetch him a clean change of clothes."

The driver jumped to his feet. "Right away."

Once he left, Evelyn switched off the TV and fixed the bodyguard with a sharp look. "My mother suffers from migraines. Loud noises trigger them. If you’re staying here, keep it down."

The bodyguard swallowed his protest. After all, his employer was still asleep in her bed—who knew when he’d stir? What if he didn’t wake until midnight?

His fears proved justified. By six, the sky had darkened, yet Dominic showed no sign of waking.

Clara turned to Evelyn. "Sweetheart, I’ll book a hotel for tonight."

Evelyn shook her head. "No, Mom. I’ll just wake him."

The bodyguard cut in, voice gruff. "He’s sick! He needs rest! Don’t disturb him!"

Evelyn’s eyes flashed. "This is my house!"

The bodyguard ignored her, pulling out his wallet and thrusting a wad of bills at Clara. "Mrs. Thorne, take this for the hotel. My treat."

His tone brooked no argument. Clara hesitated, unnerved by his intensity.

Evelyn nudged her. "Take it, Mom."

If he was offering money, they might as well accept.

Clara pocketed the cash but still seemed uneasy. "I’ll go find a place now."

Evelyn caught her arm. "Wait a little longer. He’ll wake up soon."

The bodyguard huffed. "Mrs. Thorne, let me drive you. Who knows when Mr. Blackwood will leave? It’s getting late."

As if summoned by his words, Dominic stirred the moment they left. Evelyn pressed a hand to his forehead—cool, no fever.

"You’ve slept all day. It’s dark out. Get up and go home," she said, tossing him the fresh clothes the driver had brought earlier.

Dominic blinked, his eyes bloodshot as he scanned the room.

"Up. Now. This is the only bed we have," Evelyn insisted.

His voice came out rough. "I’m dizzy—"

"Stop faking. Your fever’s gone," she snapped.

Then he coughed—deep, wracking spasms that made Evelyn wince. She bit her lip. No fever didn’t mean fully recovered. Sighing, she marched out and flagged down the driver.

"Dominic’s awake, but he says he can’t get up—"

The driver shrugged. "Then let him rest. I’ll fetch his meds."

With that, he vanished. Evelyn massaged her temples. Was she really stuck with him overnight?