Andrew entered the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling on Eva’s sleeping form. She looked so peaceful, and for a brief moment, all the frustration and anger from the day melted away. He moved closer, brushing her hair gently from her face.

“Brother-in-law?” Mia’s voice startled him.

“Shh... she’ll wake up,” Andrew whispered as he kissed Eva’s forehead softly. Eva stirred, frowning in her sleep, and let out a small whimper. Andrew smiled at the sound, sitting quietly beside her, unwilling to leave her side.

After an hour of watching her sleep, Eva finally began to stir. Her eyes fluttered open, and she found herself face to face with Andrew. She blinked, confused, before realization struck.

"Does it hurt?" Andrew asked softly, his eyes filled with genuine concern as they traced the faint redness still visible on her skin.

Eva turned her head away sharply, her voice cold. “Why do you care?”

Andrew flinched at the harshness in her tone, but before he could respond, Matthew entered the room, his presence breaking the tense moment. “Eva, are you okay?” her adoptive father asked gently.

“I’m fine,” Eva said, forcing a smile. “There’s no need to worry, Dad.”

Andrew stood up, his protective instincts still flaring. “I’ll call a doctor to make sure.”

Eva, stubborn as always, shook her head. “There’s no need. It’s just a minor burn.”

Matthew chimed in, “It’s best to get it checked, even if it’s not serious.” Reluctantly, Eva agreed, and Andrew quickly called a familiar doctor.

Minutes later, Dr. Anthony Quinn arrived, his presence brightening the atmosphere. Tristan’s face lit up when he saw the familiar figure.

“Anthony!” Tristan grinned. “It’s been a while.”

Andrew shot Tristan an impatient look. “Do you two know each other?”

Anthony pulled Tristan into a quick hug. “We studied together. This guy was always the quiet one.”

Andrew cut in, irritated. “We can catch up later. Just check my wife.”

Anthony’s head snapped toward Andrew. “Wife?” he exclaimed loudly, earning glares from both Andrew and Tristan.

“Stop yelling and just get to it,” Tristan said, rubbing his temples.

Anthony, still stunned, muttered under his breath. “This devil is married to your sister?”

“Yes,” Tristan deadpanned, unamused.

Anthony cleared his throat and approached Eva. The moment his hands touched her face to check the burn, Andrew’s voice turned cold and deadly. “Don’t touch her like that.”

Anthony groaned. “I’m a doctor, Andrew.”

“You’re still a man,” Andrew replied through gritted teeth.

Anthony rolled his eyes and finished examining Eva. “The burns are minor and will heal without scarring. She’ll be fine,” he reassured them.

Evander escorted Anthony out of the room, leaving Andrew alone with Eva again.

Eva turned on her side, making it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. “Keep your hands to yourself,” she muttered.

Andrew sighed deeply, rubbing the back of his neck. “Eva... Does it hurt?”

“Why do you care?” came the cold response from beneath the blanket.

Andrew clenched his jaw, fighting the urge to respond with anger. Because I care more than you realize... he thought. But all he said aloud was, “Please eat something.”

“I want to sleep,” she whispered, her voice tinged with exhaustion and sadness.

Andrew stood there for a moment, helpless. He left the room quietly, fists clenched as guilt gnawed at him. Once outside, he pressed his back against the door, feeling her pain as though it were his own.

He could hear Eva silently crying once more and cursing Mrs. Foster for all the hurt she had caused her through the years, along with the day’s earlier attack.

Mrs. Foster… Andrew thought, his anger igniting. You’ll pay for every tear she’s shed.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Irene sat chatting with Edward, laughing at something he said. Tristan stood at a distance, his gaze darkening as he watched them.

Why do I feel like killing him for making her laugh? Tristan thought grimly.

Anthony, who had been observing Tristan from the corner of the room, leaned in with a smirk. “Careful, Tristan,” he teased. “You’re starting to look jealous.”

“Jealous? Of Edward?” Tristan scoffed.

Anthony grinned. “You like Irene, don’t you?”

“Mind your own business,” Tristan muttered, turning away.

“Come on, she’s basically family. Don’t overthink it,” Anthony added with a wink before walking off. “You’ll figure it out.”

In another corner of the mansion, Camilla was pacing the balcony when her phone rang.

“Jessica?” Camilla answered eagerly.

“Mom,” Jessica’s voice purred through the line. “How are things?”

“Jessica, where have you been?” Camilla demanded, a wave of relief washing over her. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ll be back soon,” Jessica assured her mother. “But tell me—what happened with the wedding?”

Camilla’s voice filled with bitterness as she explained how Eva had taken Jessica’s place in marrying Andrew.

Jessica’s laughter was cold. “She won’t hold onto him for long. When I return, both Andrew and the Foster legacy will be mine.”

“I’ll be waiting for you, dear,” Camilla whispered, a wicked smile on her face as the call ended.

Later, Andrew strolled through the house, searching for Camilla. He carried a bowl of steaming water in his hands, his expression dark with intent. Spotting her coming out of the kitchen, Andrew deliberately crossed her path, the bowl tilting ever so slightly.

Hot water splashed all over Camilla.

“Ahh!” she shrieked, clutching her hands and legs in pain. “It burns!”

Andrew stepped back, feigning innocence. “Watch where you’re going, Mrs. Foster,” he said coldly. “You wouldn’t want to mess with the wrong person.”

Camilla glared at him through the pain, trembling with rage. “You did this on purpose,” she hissed. “Apologize now!”

Andrew’s expression remained cold, unmoved by her suffering. “Apologize? Don’t make me laugh,” he scoffed. “This was your mistake.”

Camilla called for the maid to help her, but before leaving, Andrew leaned down and whispered, “If you ever lay a hand on Eva again, I’ll make sure you regret it.”

He straightened, giving Camilla one last menacing look before heading to the living room, where the others were gathered.

As Andrew entered the living room, Irene glared at him. “What did you just do?”

Andrew gave her an innocent look. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean,” Irene said, pointing toward the kitchen where the bowl still lay on the floor.

Andrew shrugged, unconcerned. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Right,” Irene said sarcastically. “You just happened to spill hot water all over Mrs. Foster.”

Evander chuckled, trying to hide his amusement. “He did nothing wrong,” he said with mock seriousness.

Anthony watched the whole exchange with amusement. This bastard has gotten even more cunning since I last saw him, he thought.

Andrew noticed Anthony’s smirk and raised a brow. “I learned from the best.”

Anthony’s grin faltered. “Are you reading my mind now?”

“No need,” Andrew said smugly. “Your face says it all.”

Evander and Edward burst out laughing, while Tristan shook his head in disbelief. Andrew simply leaned back in his chair, his heart a little lighter despite the storm brewing inside him.

As much as he loved tormenting Camilla, there was only one person on his mind: Eva. And Andrew King was determined to win her over—whether she wanted him to or not.