Chapter 114

The moment Ethan spoke, Alexander's piercing gaze shifted from him to Evelyn’s face.

A bone-chilling coldness flickered in Alexander’s eyes.

Evelyn’s breath hitched when she recognized that look—he had misunderstood everything.

Her pulse raced as she blurted, "What nonsense are you spouting? This has nothing to do with me. My heart belongs only to Alexander."

Alexander had been in the restroom earlier and missed the moment when she and Claire had playfully ordered male escorts.

Given that Claire was still technically married to Lucas, Evelyn couldn’t throw her best friend under the bus, no matter how desperate she was to clear her own name.

So she denied it outright.

Ethan let out a derisive laugh, his lips curling in scorn. "Brave enough to do it, but too cowardly to own up?"

Alexander’s fingers tightened around his glass at Evelyn’s declaration of devotion.

His expression darkened as his attention locked onto her face.

The tension in the room was palpable.

Evelyn could feel Ethan's piercing gaze burning into her, his expression dark with disapproval.

Realizing Alexander might have gotten the wrong idea, Evelyn quickly spoke up. "The rumors about the escorts—it's not what he's implying. Don't believe him."

Ethan scoffed, his irritation flaring as he watched Evelyn rush to explain herself to Alexander.

His jaw tightened. "You have the nerve to show up here empty-handed? Did you even bring a gift for Uncle Alexander?"

Evelyn had arrived with nothing in her hands, and Ethan was determined to expose her. He had always questioned her sincerity, and now, with his friends watching, he wanted to strip away her facade.

Evelyn pressed her lips together, then lifted her gaze—only to meet Alexander's deep, unreadable eyes.

A small smile curved her lips before she reached up, fingers brushing against the delicate chain around her neck.

Slowly, deliberately, she pulled the thin red cord free, revealing a pendant that had been hidden beneath her collar.

The moment the pendant came into view, Ethan's face drained of color.

His breath hitched.

Because he recognized it.

And so did Alexander.

The realization struck Ethan like lightning.

That delicate pendant had adorned Evelyn's neck since their fateful first encounter, a constant presence he'd grown accustomed to seeing. Though he'd never inquired about its origins, its perpetual presence spoke volumes about its significance to her.

Yet here she stood, prepared to gift this cherished heirloom to Alexander for his birthday?

A pang of regret twisted in Ethan's gut. He never should have suggested the birthday gift idea.

Evelyn's fingers trembled slightly as she unfastened the silver chain.

The pendant caught the dim lighting of Eclipse Lounge, its intricate carvings casting delicate shadows across her palms. The polished surface gleamed with an ethereal glow, like moonlight captured in amber.

Cradling it with reverence, she extended it toward Alexander.

"This has been my talisman for ten years," she murmured, voice thick with emotion. "My constant companion through every storm." Her lashes fluttered as she met his gaze. "Happy birthday, Alexander."

Alexander's breath hitched.

He recognized this piece instantly—the very token Ethan had given her all those years ago in gratitude.

The fact she'd worn it daily for a decade sent an unexpected ache through his chest. The weight of that loyalty, that constancy, settled over him like a physical force.

Eclipse Lounge's ambient jazz faded into white noise as the pendant swung gently between them, catching fractured light like scattered memories.

Alexander hesitated, realizing the pendant now belonged to Evelyn since he had gifted it to her. Taking it back would be unreasonable.

Besides, this particular pendant held...

Just then, a drunken man staggered toward them in the dimly lit Eclipse Lounge.

Concealed within his sleeve was a sharp blade, while his other hand clumsily gripped a nearly empty wine bottle—a poor disguise for his true intentions.

When Evelyn turned, her eyes widened as the man suddenly brandished the dagger, slurring, "Alexander Whitmore, go to hell!"

The assailant feigned intoxication as he closed the distance between them.

Amidst the chaotic noise and shadowy corners of the bar, no one noticed the glint of steel in the drunk’s hand—least of all Alexander, whose back was turned.

The attacker seized the advantage of Alexander’s blind spot, raising the dagger high, poised to strike.