The words Evelyn had meant to say were stuck in her throat. She frowned slightly and looked up at him. "You're overthinking it, Mr. Grant. I wasn't going to ask you for the painting."
Lucas didn't respond. He just stared at her face thoughtfully. From his angle, her chin looked slightly sharper than before. Her already small face seemed to have slimmed down even more lately, making her serene eyes appear even larger.
Suddenly, he reached out. He gently pinched her chin and tilted it up to get a better look. His hand resting near her waist hovered slightly, not quite touching.
"Have you lost weight?" Her waist was noticeably thinner now.
His tone was cool and detached, but there was a trace of something unreadable in his eyes. "Or is it because you've lost your appetite?"
Evelyn averted her gaze, a little surprised by his reaction. So, he had noticed the change in her. But clearly, that's all it was.
If he knew the truth about her terminal illness, he probably wouldn't care one bit. Once she regained her balance, she tried to push him away and said flatly, "Can you let go now?"
She never answered his question directly. Lucas didn't push further. He opened his arms, allowing her to steady herself.
Evelyn braced a hand against his chest for support. Just as she was about to step away, Brandon happened to walk in the hallway and caught the exact moment she pulled herself out of Lucas' arms.
His expression shifted into something complicated. Just earlier, Lucas had offered the Miller family a major business concession—for a painting worth less than a million dollars—clearly for Tiffany's sake.
And now, why was Evelyn in his arms? Brandon's look was full of unspoken questions, and Evelyn could practically read all the wrong conclusions flashing through his mind.
But no matter how she explained herself, it always made her look guilty. Lucas hadn't even allowed her to publicly acknowledge their marriage when they were still together.
Now that they were divorced? Forget it.
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