Chapter 3
Sebastian Valdemar's thin lips curved into a dangerous yet captivating smirk. His frosty gaze swept past Evelyn Roland before settling on the trembling driver.
"Who gave you permission to pick things up?" His voice was low. "Get out and inspect the car. Record everything. Don't leave any room for fraud accusations."
The driver paled. "Yes! This young lady did bump into the front of the car. I'll check thoroughly."
He moved to open the door.
Evelyn let out a cold laugh and slammed it shut with one hand.
"Fraud?" She arched a brow. "You were the ones speeding through a residential area and blaring your horn. Does driving a luxury car make you above the law?"
The man's dark eyes locked onto her, gleaming like ink under the backlight. He scoffed. "So it's not fraud. Then stopping a car in the street to ask for contact details—that counts as harassment."
Evelyn nearly laughed out loud. She raked her eyes over him without restraint. "The poison in your body will cripple you within two years. You'll be bedridden, muscles atrophied, completely dependent. Harass you? For what? That pretty face?"
The driver gasped.
Was this woman insane? How dare she speak to Mr. Valdemar like that...
Sebastian's expression darkened instantly. How did she know about the poison?
"Who the hell are you?"
Evelyn leaned in slightly, her beautiful face alight with provocation. "Oh? Interested in me? Sorry, sir, we’re not acquainted. Keep this up, and I’ll sue you for harassment."
She threw his words right back at him.
With a bright, mocking smile, she released the car door and stepped back. "Weren’t you going to inspect the car? You take care of your vehicle, and you’ll compensate me for my things. Oh, and don’t forget to apologize properly."
The driver stood frozen, caught between a rock and a hard place.
Sebastian studied Evelyn for a long moment before growling, "Drive!"
The window rolled up, and the Maybach roared away in a cloud of dust.
Evelyn waved off the exhaust fumes, cursing the man’s insanity under her breath. As she bent to gather her scattered belongings, she noticed the Maybach was heading toward the Lowell estate.
A car with triple license plates meant extraordinary status. Since when had the Lowells befriended someone like that?
Inside the car, Sebastian’s relaxed posture was gone. He stared at his legs, his expression stormy.
Crippled? Dependent?
The woman’s words stabbed into him like knives. Coincidence, or could she really see through him at a glance? And those eyes—strangely familiar...
Evelyn dragged her suitcase to the gated community entrance, where an argument was still raging.
Three security guards stood ready with batons. Opposite them was a beat-up Santana, beside which a young man in a floral shirt was gesturing wildly. "Why can that car go in but not mine?"
Laughter rippled through the onlookers. Evelyn walked straight over. "I’m Evelyn Roland. Are you here to pick me up?"
The man stiffened, his slicked-back hair seeming to wilt in shock. He scrambled to adjust his appearance—this girl was nothing like he’d imagined.
With striking features, porcelain skin, and an innate regal air even in casual wear, she exuded icy allure. Yet her peach-blossom eyes held a mesmerizing blend of coolness and charm.
This was the delinquent girl from the files?
The private investigator must’ve been blind!
Dominic Laurent hastily straightened his collar, grinning ear to ear. "Hello! I’m your second brother’s best friend. Came specially to fetch you today."
Evelyn shoved her suitcase into his hands. "Thanks."
Dominic blinked, then eagerly yanked open the passenger door—only to pull it clean off its hinges.
The crowd erupted in laughter.
Without batting an eye, Evelyn got in, took the door, and slammed it back into place with sheer force.
Dominic’s jaw dropped.
Superhuman strength?!
He hurriedly stuffed the luggage into the trunk, climbing into the driver’s seat with an apologetic look. "Sorry, this car was fifth-hand when I got it..."
"It’s fine." Evelyn calmly buckled the patched-up seatbelt.
Dominic marveled inwardly. Gorgeous, easygoing, and not a gold-digger—he’d take a dozen sisters like this.
After five failed attempts to start the car, sweat beaded on his forehead. Those bastards—he’d asked for a junker, not scrap metal!
"Let me." Evelyn deftly pulled out a few wires and had the engine roaring in seconds.
"This car needs serious repairs. If you’re not selling it, I can fix it as payment for the ride." She dusted off her hands, buckled up, and closed her eyes to rest.
The effort of prolonging the old man’s life with acupuncture, followed by three days of vigil, had left her utterly drained.
Dominic excitedly whipped out his phone and typed furiously. Alex! Lend me your sister for a couple days! She’s amazing!
At Blenheim Palace in the capital...
Alexander Roland shot up from the sofa, his phone creaking in his grip. "Mom, Dad, I’m going to get my sister."
He bolted out the door. A silver Pagani screeched out of the driveway.
He never should’ve listened to Dominic’s stupid idea! If Evelyn thought the Rolands didn’t want her, his parents would skin him alive.