Chapter 127
The taxi driver couldn't help stealing glances at Evelyn through the rearview mirror.
Her luminous eyes were fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. She carried herself like a Hollywood starlet, her flawless skin glowing like polished porcelain.
Her cascading hair shimmered like liquid silk, dancing lightly in the breeze. Every movement exuded elegance—she was undeniably a woman of refined grace.
The driver had only ever heard rumors about this exclusive gated community but had never set foot inside. This was Cresthaven’s most elite enclave, home to the city’s wealthiest and most powerful.
Security was notoriously tight. Ordinary people like him rarely got this close, let alone drove through its pristine streets.
This will make one hell of a story for the guys back at the depot, he thought smugly.
The deeper they ventured, the more breathtaking the surroundings became.
Lush, manicured gardens stretched endlessly, every hedge and tree sculpted to perfection. Even the leaves seemed hand-polished, glistening under the golden sunlight filtering through the canopy.
Yesterday’s rain had left the air crisp and fresh, the emerald foliage shimmering under the soft glow of dawn. The entire estate felt like a living painting—serene, untouchable, and impossibly luxurious.
Evelyn remained silent, her fingers absently tracing the edge of the car window.
The driver cleared his throat. "First time visiting, miss?"
She didn’t answer.
He swallowed, suddenly feeling out of place. The weight of the unspoken divide between them settled heavily in the car.
Up ahead, the iron gates of Whitmore Manor loomed into view.
The air carried a refined elegance through the manicured grounds of Whitmore Manor.
Evelyn's taxi pulled up to the gated entrance.
Security guards immediately recognized her and swung open the wrought iron gates.
As she paid the driver and stepped onto the cobblestone driveway, tires screeched behind her.
Ethan Caldwell emerged from the black sedan, his usually impeccable appearance disheveled.
He and Vanessa Hart were newlyweds who should have arrived together. But a last-minute crisis at Titan Capital Group had delayed him.
Vanessa, painfully aware of the Whitmore family's disdain for her, had insisted on arriving a full hour early.
When Ethan's bloodshot eyes landed on Evelyn, his breath caught.
Last night's whiskey and unexpected downpour had left him feverish. He'd stumbled home past midnight, barely sleeping before rushing to the office at dawn.
Now, seeing Evelyn's familiar silhouette against the afternoon sun, he wondered if his fever had spiked into hallucinations.
"What are you doing here?" His voice came out rougher than intended, cracking with exhaustion.
The breeze carried the faint scent of Evelyn's perfume—something floral and achingly familiar. It made his chest constrict.
Vanessa's shrill voice cut through the moment from the terrace above. "Ethan! You're finally here!"
Ethan didn't turn. His gaze remained locked on Evelyn, searching her face for... something. An explanation? A reaction?
Evelyn merely adjusted her clutch bag, her expression unreadable. "I was invited," she said simply before walking toward the house.
Her heels clicked against the stone path with finality. Each step took her further away—just like she'd walked away from their failed engagement.
Ethan's fingers twitched at his sides. For one irrational second, he considered chasing after her.
Then Vanessa's manicured hand gripped his arm, her nails digging in possessively. "Everyone's waiting inside," she hissed.
The spell broke. Ethan blinked, suddenly aware of how many Whitmore staff members had witnessed the exchange.
He allowed Vanessa to drag him toward the grand entrance, but his head turned for one last look at Evelyn's retreating figure.
Somewhere in his whiskey-addled, feverish mind, a dangerous thought took root: What if things had been different?
The heavy oak doors closed behind them with a thud that sounded suspiciously like a