The Hidden Empress Stripping Her Secrets After Divorce novel Chapter 218

The door pushed open.

Evelyn was sitting behind her desk writing in a medical chart. She looked up at the sound of the door opening. The moment she saw Sebastian and the bouquet of deep purple roses in his hand, the pen in her hand visibly paused.

Her gaze swept over his overly formal suit, lingered on the uniquely colored flowers, and finally rested on his face.

"Mr. Thorne," she set her pen down, her tone perfectly level. "Have a seat."

Sebastian walked into the office and handed the bouquet to Lance, gesturing for him to hold it. He then sat down in the chair opposite Evelyn. Lance slipped in quietly, closed the door, and stood consciously in the corner with the flowers—trying to minimize his presence, though his eyes couldn't stop darting back and forth between the two of them.

"What brings you in today, Mr. Thorne? Where are you experiencing discomfort?" Evelyn opened a fresh chart, ready to take notes.

Sebastian noted her professional, distant demeanor. He stayed silent for two seconds before answering, "Didn't Dr. Sullivan say I was sick? I'm here for my follow-up."

Evelyn glanced up at him, the corner of her lips curving in the faintest, almost imperceptible arc. "Then I need to hear your specific symptoms."

Her tone was entirely clinical, all business.

Sebastian shifted his posture, leaning forward slightly. "Lately... I keep involuntarily wanting to get closer to someone."

"Mhm," Evelyn wrote it down. "Specific manifestations?"

"When I see her, I want to stand beside her. I want to give her the best of everything, I want to protect her, I want to..." Sebastian paused, "I want to know what she's doing and who she's with."

Evelyn didn't look up. "Heightened desire for social interaction accompanied by mild controlling tendencies. Anything else?"

"Yes," Sebastian continued, his voice dropping lower. "Knowing she's alone with another man makes me incredibly uncomfortable."

"What kind of discomfort?"

"Sourness," Sebastian said bluntly. "A sour feeling surges in my chest. I want to rush over immediately and tear her away from him."

Evelyn's pen paused for a fraction of a second against the paper before she resumed writing. "Emotional volatility, displaying distinct jealousy reactions. Duration of symptoms?"

"About three days."

"Triggering factors?"

"Seeing her," Sebastian stared at Evelyn. "More accurately, knowing she was meeting another man alone."

Evelyn finally looked up, meeting his gaze evenly. "Anything else?"

"There's something more severe," Sebastian's tone darkened. "Sometimes I have these... irrational thoughts."

"Such as?"

"Such as wanting to lock her away," Sebastian said, enunciating every word. "Lock her somewhere only I can see her, so no one else can get close."

"It's not a joke," Sebastian said with utmost seriousness. "Evelyn, the person I'm talking about is you. Ever since I saw you alone with Julian at The Zenith restaurant yesterday—no, even earlier than that. Ever since you saved my grandfather in the operating room a month ago, I've..."

He didn't finish, but his meaning was crystal clear.

Evelyn sighed softly. "Mr. Thorne, in medical terms, your symptoms are called 'situational illusion response.' It's typically a temporary cognitive bias triggered by a highly stressful event. I suggest..."

"I don't need suggestions." Sebastian cut her off. He stood up, took the bouquet from Lance, and placed it right on Evelyn's desk. "I need you to hear me clearly. Evelyn Sullivan, I am going to pursue you."

Evelyn stared at the deep purple "Queen of the Night" roses, then looked up at Sebastian, her brow furrowing. "Mr. Thorne, you might need a moment to cool down."

"I am completely level-headed," Sebastian said. "I'm in perfect physical health with no organic diseases. I can take a psychological evaluation anytime, and the report will prove I'm entirely sane. You should be aware of my financial standing. My social circle is simple, and I have no bad habits. As for my family, my grandfather is already extremely fond of you—you should know that too."

He reeled off the points in a single breath before adding, "Of course, whether you accept or not is your business. But whether I pursue you is mine."

Evelyn had absolutely nothing to say.

She was rarely rendered speechless.

It wasn't because she was moved by his blunt confession, but because she honestly didn't know how to respond.

In her years of practice, she had encountered all sorts of patients and their families. She'd seen people tearfully presenting her with silk banners, people dropping to their knees in gratitude, and people screaming insults when treatments failed.