Chapter 125

Ethan Caldwell stood frozen, words failing him.

He should have been overjoyed, yet the expected elation never came.

At first, Vanessa Hart had intrigued him—her charm undeniable—but their relationship felt less like fate and more like a carefully staged play.

That night, drunk beyond reason, she had ushered him into a hotel room. By dawn, paparazzi swarmed them, their "scandalous affair" splashed across every tabloid.

Vanessa had orchestrated it all. The realization struck him like ice water—she wasn’t the innocent he’d believed her to be.

No man wanted his future dictated by manipulation, and Ethan was no exception.

What unsettled him more was Evelyn Carter’s recent behavior. First, she joined Titan Capital Group, appearing everywhere he turned. Then, she openly pursued Alexander Whitmore.

Evelyn had masterfully stoked his competitive instincts, pulling his strings with effortless precision.

It was undeniable—she knew him too well. And now, he was dancing to her tune without even realizing it.

These were Ethan's most private thoughts, ones he could never voice aloud.

The memory surfaced unexpectedly—Evelyn used to play the cello too.

That haunting melody he'd heard while unconscious had first drawn him to Vanessa.

But now, doubt gnawed at him. What if it wasn't Vanessa playing that day?

The possibility twisted his gut. Had everything been built on a lie?

He needed answers. Needed to hear the truth from Evelyn herself.

Trevor, oblivious to Ethan's turmoil, gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "You're overworked, man. Let's hit Eclipse Lounge—nothing a few drinks can't fix."

After last night's storm, dawn broke clear and golden.

Evelyn slept peacefully, exhaustion finally claiming her.

With Claire's shoot canceled due to the weather, she'd crashed at Willowbrook Apartments, keeping Evelyn company through the tempest.

They'd spent the day marathoning dramas, wrapped in blankets with takeout containers littering the coffee table.

The storm had passed. But for Ethan, the turbulence was just beginning.

The afternoon sun streamed through the café windows as Evelyn stirred her iced tea absently. Across from her, Claire toyed with the rim of her glass, her expression unreadable.

"Have you and Lucas sorted things out yet?" Evelyn asked carefully.

Claire’s lips twisted into a bitter smile. She remembered that night at Eclipse Lounge all too well—how she’d flirted shamelessly with a model, how Lucas had stormed in, his jaw clenched, before hauling her out like a misbehaving child.

"Make up?" Claire scoffed. "Absolutely not. I want a divorce. There’s no making up after this."

Evelyn leaned forward. "What happened after he took you home?"

Claire rolled her eyes. "He tried to talk. Said he wanted to fix things. Then he had the audacity to suggest we sleep together." Her fingers tightened around her glass. "I told him I was pregnant. That I was getting rid of it and then signing the papers."

Evelyn’s brows lifted. "And?"

"He refused." Claire’s laugh was sharp. "Suddenly, he’s all about keeping the baby, promising to be better, swearing Isabella Rhodes means nothing. Like I’d believe that."

Evelyn studied her. "Do you think he’s telling the truth?"

"Men lie," Claire said flatly. "Especially when they’re cornered."

As if on cue, Claire’s phone buzzed—Lucas’s name flashing on the screen. She didn’t hesitate before swiping to decline.

Evelyn smirked. "He’s persistent."

"Pathetic," Claire corrected. "It used to be me chasing him. Now he’s the one panicking." She tossed her phone into her bag with a satisfied smirk. "Let him sweat. I’m not answering for a week."

Evelyn sipped her tea, hiding a smile. "You’re ruthless."

Claire’s grin was all teeth. "And he deserves every second of it."

Claire switched off her phone with trembling fingers. Outside, thunder rumbled ominously.

Lucas, desperate, dialed Evelyn's number.

"It's pouring out there. Is Claire with you?" His voice was tight with worry.

Evelyn smirked and put him on speaker. "She is."

Lucas exhaled sharply. "She's early in her pregnancy and still dealing with morning sickness. Make sure she's comfortable."

Evelyn couldn't resist teasing. "Lucas Bennett, has the wayward son finally come home?"

"I was never wayward," Lucas snapped, irritation lacing his words.

Some things Claire couldn't bring herself to ask, but Evelyn had no such reservations.

"Weren't you hung up on some mystery woman? Now that Claire's carrying your child, does that girl even matter anymore?"

Silence.

Claire's grip on her coffee cup tightened, her knuckles turning white. The ceramic felt like it might shatter under the pressure.

The quiet stretched, heavy and suffocating.

Then—

Nothing.

Lucas had hung up.

Claire's breath hitched.

Evelyn's playful expression faltered. "Well. That was... telling."

Claire set the cup down before she dropped it. The liquid inside had gone cold.

Outside, the storm raged on.