Chapter 337

The lingering tension from the earlier confrontation had stolen both Evelyn and Isabelle's appetites.

Across the table, Eleanor ate with relish, savoring every bite of Evelyn's cooking—a rare treat she always cherished. Once the meal concluded, Eleanor gestured for Evelyn to join her in the private sanctuary of her bedroom.

"Evelyn, I need to ask you something important," Eleanor began, her tone uncharacteristically grave. "Did you truly sleep with Nathan?"

Evelyn met her grandmother's gaze without flinching. There was no point in lies. "Yes."

Eleanor's face darkened. Her fingers trembled as she pointed at Evelyn, disbelief sharpening her voice. "You—how could you—?"

The more Eleanor dwelled on it, the hotter her anger burned. Frustration won out—she reached forward and flicked Evelyn's forehead. "Foolish child!"

Evelyn rubbed the spot, lips pursed in a pout. "Tell me everything," Eleanor demanded. "What exactly happened?"

"Last night, we..." Evelyn didn't hold back. She recounted the events in detail—the drinks, the haze of intoxication, the blur of passion that followed.

"So, you were both drunk," Eleanor murmured, absorbing the confession. Slowly, she fell silent, grappling with the weight of it. Words failed her.

Evelyn took Eleanor's hand, her voice soft but unwavering. "Grandmother, I don’t regret it."

Eleanor studied her granddaughter’s face, emotions warring in her eyes. After a long pause, she exhaled. "If you don’t regret it, then neither will I."

Evelyn smiled faintly. "Good. You don’t need to worry about me."

A beat of silence passed before Eleanor ventured another question. "What about Isabelle? How do you feel about what she did?"

Evelyn’s expression shuttered.

Eleanor pressed gently, "I’m certain she didn’t mean any harm. You’ve known her since you were girls."

Evelyn’s lips pressed into a thin line. After a moment, she conceded, "Fine. I understand."

Perhaps Isabelle hadn’t acted with malice this time—but for Evelyn, the fracture in their trust was irreparable. Still, she wouldn’t burden Eleanor with that truth.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Isabelle sat rigid, her fingers twisting in her lap. The situation had spiraled beyond her control, and the unease gnawing at her grew sharper by the second. She knew—after this, Evelyn’s wariness toward her would only deepen. And there was nothing she could do.

She understood her place all too well. In this household, she couldn’t afford to misstep.

Regret coiled in her chest. She never should have approached Nathan. Never should have spoken those reckless words.

But after stepping into the opulence of the Black family estate, after tasting the life she’d only dreamed of—something inside her had ignited. A hunger. A determination.

One day, she vowed silently, she would claim that world as her own. The promise burned in her mind, relentless as a flame.