Chapter 387

Cassandra stuck out her tongue playfully and fell silent.

Natalie's mind was elsewhere.

Two days ago, she had sent Evelyn a message about an urgent document she needed for work.

At first, Evelyn hadn’t responded. When Natalie called, Evelyn snapped, "Figure it out yourself."

That wasn’t like Evelyn at all.

Their previous conversations had been warm, even friendly. Something felt off.

Simon walked by and lightly tapped her desk. "You seem lost in thought."

"Mr. Graves," Natalie murmured, "when is Evelyn coming back?"

Simon paused. "Why do you ask?"

Natalie unlocked her phone and showed him the messages. "She doesn’t sound like herself."

Simon glanced at the screen, his expression shifting.

A chill ran down Natalie’s spine.

Something was wrong.

Very wrong.

The tension in the office was palpable.

Simon Graves cleared his throat. "Perhaps Mrs. Whitmore is simply preoccupied. It might not be personal."

"But—" Natalie Brooks started to protest, only to fall silent as Alexander Whitmore strode out of his office.

Simon hurried after him. "Mr. Whitmore, where are you headed?"

Alexander didn’t respond immediately. Only when they were settled in the back of the sleek black car did he finally speak. "I heard my nephew has launched a new venture. Is that correct?"

Simon blinked in surprise. "Yes, Horizon Enterprises had its grand opening today. Should I arrange for a congratulatory gift?"

Alexander smirked, loosening his tie with a slow, deliberate motion. "A gift?" He leaned back against the supple leather seat. "This calls for a personal visit, don’t you think?"

Understanding dawned in Simon’s eyes.

Evelyn Carter would undoubtedly be there to support Ethan Caldwell.

And Alexander intended to see her.

Without another word, Simon signaled the driver. The engine purred to life.

The sleek black sedan came to a smooth halt outside the gleaming glass tower of Horizon Enterprises.

Simon stepped out first, his polished shoes clicking against the pavement as he approached the reception desk. His inquiry about Ethan Caldwell's whereabouts yielded unexpected news.

Trevor Moss greeted them with practiced professionalism, though his eyes flickered with unease. "Mr. Whitmore, what brings you here today? Mr. Caldwell remains hospitalized—his condition took a turn for the worse these past few days. I've been overseeing all company operations in his absence."

Alexander's brow furrowed. "He's been in the hospital this entire time?"

"Without exception," Trevor confirmed, adjusting his tie.

This didn't add up. Alexander knew Ethan better than that. The ambitious businessman wouldn't miss his own company's grand opening unless something far more significant demanded his attention. Hospitalization seemed too convenient an excuse—more like a smokescreen for darker dealings.

Without another word, Alexander turned on his heel and strode back toward the waiting vehicle. His mind raced with possibilities, each more troubling than the last.

Simon lingered momentarily, his attention caught by the extravagant floral arrangements flanking the entrance. His voice carried a note of concern when he finally caught up. "Sir... I don't see Mrs. Whitmore's bouquet among the displays."

The omission felt deliberate. Ominous. Like missing pieces in a puzzle they'd only begun to assemble.

Alexander's jaw tightened as he slid into the leather seat. The game had changed. And he intended to discover exactly how.

Even after their reconciliation, Ethan Caldwell and Evelyn Carter knew society's judgmental eyes would never accept their forbidden connection. They moved like shadows, careful not to draw attention.

"Track her current address."

Given the circumstances, Evelyn wouldn't return to Hawthorne Estate. She wouldn't stay at Claire Dawson's place either—not with Julian Mercer there.

Alexander Whitmore needed to see her.

Two days of silence had been torture.

Even if it was over, he deserved to hear those words from Evelyn's lips, not through the sterile glow of a text message. He needed to understand why she'd shattered them without warning.

Simon Graves hesitated before reporting, "We've combed every hotel and rental in Cresthaven. No trace of Mrs. Whitmore."

Alexander's knuckles whitened around his whiskey glass.

Had Evelyn moved into Ethan's penthouse? Were they playing house while his world burned?

The ice in his drink cracked like his self-control.

Somewhere across the city, a phone buzzed with an encrypted alert. Security footage from a luxury high-rise flickered to life on a tablet—Evelyn's silhouette against floor-to-ceiling windows, alone.

Simon cleared his throat. "There's... one more lead."

Alexander's head snapped up. The game wasn't over yet.