Chapter 117

Alexander leaned against the sleek hood of his car, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. The night air was cool, his crisp white shirt unbuttoned at the top. His piercing gaze locked onto Evelyn the moment she stepped out of the hospital doors.

Is he here for me? Evelyn wondered.

Midnight had settled over the city, casting the hospital corridors in muted shadows. The ember at the tip of Alexander’s cigarette flickered like a tiny beacon in the dark.

She walked toward him, her steps measured.

Lately, they had perfected the art of discretion in public. But now, with the streets nearly empty, there was no need for pretense.

Alexander’s expression was unreadable—until his eyes landed on the stark white bandage wrapped around Evelyn’s wrist. His jaw tightened.

“You’re hurt,” he stated, voice low.

Evelyn shrugged, feigning indifference. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. It’ll heal soon.”

“Let me see,” he demanded, stepping closer.

His fingers brushed against her skin as he carefully examined the injury. The warmth of his touch sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

She swallowed.

The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken words.

Then, without warning, Alexander pulled her into his arms.

Evelyn stiffened for a second before melting into his embrace. His heartbeat thudded steadily against her ear, a silent reassurance.

“You should’ve called me,” he murmured into her hair.

She exhaled, tension seeping out of her. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Alexander pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. His thumb traced her cheek.

“You’ll never be a bother,” he said firmly. “Not to me.”

Evelyn’s breath caught.

The streetlights flickered overhead, casting their entwined shadows onto the pavement.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to lean on him—fully, completely.

And he held her like he’d never let go.

Evelyn lifted her hand, her elbow bending slightly as she reached toward Alexander.

His fingers closed around hers, their hands locking together in an instant.

Before Evelyn could react, Alexander's strong arms encircled her, pulling her firmly against his chest.

His palm settled at the small of her back, drawing her closer until the warmth of his body seeped into hers. The rich, intoxicating scent of sandalwood and aged whiskey clung to him, making her head spin.

"Why did you push me away instead of moving yourself?" Alexander murmured, his voice rough with concern. "If that drunk had been faster, you could've been hurt. Do you realize that?"

The truth was, though the man had been aiming for Alexander, Evelyn had been standing close enough to be caught in the chaos.

Yet her first instinct had been to shove Alexander out of harm's way—putting herself at risk instead.

Alexander exhaled sharply, pressing his lips to the crown of her hair.

Evelyn listened to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear before whispering, "Because I couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt."

For a heartbeat, Alexander froze. Then his arms tightened around her, holding her as if he never intended to let go.

The thought haunted him.

"She'd rather push me away, even if it means getting hurt. Is she doing this... for me?" Alexander's chest tightened.

The silence between them had stretched too long.

"When are you coming home?" he finally asked, voice rough with unspoken longing.

He missed Evelyn—missed her warmth, her scent, the way her laughter filled their home.

Lately, to maintain their act at Titan Capital Group, he'd forced himself to ignore her. Every glance, every accidental brush of their hands, sent fire through his veins.

It was torture.

More than once, he'd nearly broken. Nearly pulled her into his arms right there in the office, consequences be damned.

The house felt hollow without her.

Her presence lingered—in the sheets they'd shared, in the kitchen where she'd hummed while making coffee, in every damn corner.

Just stepping through the front door flooded his mind with memories. Evelyn beneath him, gasping his name, her nails scoring his back—

Alexander exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.

"After Vanessa and Ethan's wedding," Evelyn said suddenly, pulling him from the heated recollection. "Take me to the Whitmore family."

Tradition demanded the bride pay respects to the elders.

And Evelyn intended to make sure Vanessa knelt before her.

Alexander’s gaze never wavered as he gave her a slow, deliberate nod.

Two days.

After waiting an entire decade, two days felt like nothing.

His eyes remained fixed ahead, his voice steady and resolute. "Do whatever you need to do. If you want to destroy Ethan Caldwell, then do it. From now on, you can act as recklessly as you please. Just remember—no matter what happens, I’ll handle the fallout."

Evelyn’s breath caught. She hadn’t expected Alexander to give her this much freedom, this much power.

They climbed into the car. After a brief hesitation, Evelyn finally voiced the question lingering in her mind. "What was that about the drunk guy tonight?"

Alexander's piercing gaze darkened. "The investigation is still ongoing."

"Do they have any leads?" Evelyn shuddered at the memory. She had merely been enjoying a drink at Eclipse Lounge when death nearly claimed her.

Thankfully, Alexander had been sober that night. Had he been intoxicated, the outcome would have been catastrophic.

He exhaled sharply, clearly reluctant to elaborate. "Some grudges from my police academy days might have resurfaced."

Evelyn nodded slowly. That explanation made sense.

"I recall you used to practice acupuncture." Alexander's voice grew quieter, his mind drifting to that fateful night years ago.

Had Evelyn not intervened with her precise needlework to stem his bleeding, he wouldn't have survived the decade-old injury.

Yet after weeks of living together, he'd never once seen her medical kit in their home.

Evelyn's fingers tightened around the seatbelt.

"That... was a lifetime ago," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The dashboard lights cast shadows across her downcast face. "I haven't touched a needle in years."

The unspoken question hung heavily between them as the car sped through the neon-lit streets of Cresthaven. Somewhere in the distance, a siren wailed.