Evelyn furrowed her eyebrows, as she watched him.
Her voice broke, cracking with the fury of someone on the verge of breaking.
"You're a madman…" she spat, rage flooding her veins. "Why? Why didn't you just call me out? Tell me I wasn't Eleanor?"
Nathaniel's laugh echoed in the vault, quiet and hollow, tinged with a madness she had never heard before. It wasn't amusement; it was the sound of a man losing control.
"Because I wanted to see if you were a good liar," he replied, his tone almost fond, like a man admiring a work of art. "And… I wanted to see how far Bastian would go."
He leaned in closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face with a startling tenderness.
"Oh, Bastian did go far, didn't he?" His voice was soft, laced with poison. "Did he not tell you to get pregnant for me?"
Evelyn froze, the blood draining from her face. Her lips parted, but no sound came out—her mind a whirl of disbelief and horror.
