Chapter 15

Evelyn lowered her gaze, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she stole a nervous glance at him. Her mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation.

Why was he here, in her hospital room?

"Are you 258?" she asked hesitantly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Alexander arched a brow and settled into the chair beside her bed, stretching his long legs out before him. His piercing gaze never left hers, dark and unreadable.

"That's correct."

His tone was smooth, laced with the roughness of someone who hadn't slept.

"Ms. Carter," he continued, tilting his head slightly, "are you intending to cash in on that favor from a decade ago to make up for last night?"

Their eyes locked, and Evelyn felt her breath hitch.

Ten years ago, when she had found him, he had been half-buried in the mud, his chest marred by a gruesome wound. Back then, she hadn't even seen his face clearly.

She never imagined he would look like this.

She had always thought Ethan Caldwell was the most striking man in Cresthaven, but now, faced with Alexander Whitmore, she realized how wrong she had been.

There was no comparison.

Her hands shook slightly as she whispered, "We didn't... do anything more, right?"

Alexander's lips curved with mischief. "What do you think happened?"

Evelyn tightened her grip on the sheets, her pulse racing. Aside from tearing his button off, she couldn’t recall if she had crossed any other lines.

The silence stretched, suffocating. She had to say something.

"Maybe I could... buy you a new shirt?"

His chuckle was low, velvety. "Just the shirt?"

She chewed her bottom lip.

That clearly wasn’t enough.

A man like him—wealthy, commanding—wouldn’t care about a single ruined garment. But what else could she offer? She had nothing. No family, no money, no status.

After a tense pause, she forced out the words, "If there’s anything else I can do—"

"Marry me."

Her breath hitched. "What?"

"Will You Marry Me?"

"What did you just say?"

Alexander leaned back, his gaze lingering on her lips—soft, full, and red as a freshly bloomed rose.

His throat moved slightly as he swallowed.

"I said, marry me. Think about it."

His tone was light, almost conversational, as if he were suggesting where to grab dinner. But Evelyn felt the words like a jolt of electricity through her veins.

"We’ve only met once. I don’t even know your last name!"

Alexander dragged his fingers through his dark hair, exhaling in mild frustration. "Ms. Carter, you might not realize this, but I’m an old-fashioned man. Twenty-nine years, I’ve waited."

His voice dropped lower. "And last night, you took that from me. How do I explain that to my future wife?"

A slow, knowing smile curved his lips as he leaned in. "Besides, we haven’t just met once. I’ve known you for ten years. You saved me. Marrying you is the only logical choice."

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

The way he said it made it sound like refusing would be absurd.

"You should know… I’m engaged."

She bit her lip, then hesitated, as if suddenly remembering something painful.

The golden afternoon light streamed through the hospital window, casting long shadows across the sterile white sheets. Evelyn’s fingers twisted nervously in her lap, her gaze fixed on the floor.

"I was supposed to marry Ethan," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. The words tasted bitter on her tongue. "But last night… we called it off."

Alexander stood by the window, the breeze tousling his dark hair. His jaw tightened imperceptibly, his hands curling into fists at his sides. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy, like the weight of unspoken words.

Then—a sharp knock at the door.

A young nurse slipped inside, clutching a clipboard and a thermometer. "Just need to check your vitals, Miss Carter."

Alexander straightened, adjusting the cuffs of his dress shirt with practiced ease. His expression was unreadable as he turned toward Evelyn. "If you decide," he said, his voice low and measured, "let Simon know."

He moved to the water dispenser, filling a cup with warm water before setting it carefully on the bedside table. His fingers lingered for a moment, as if he wanted to say more.

Instead, he simply met her eyes. "Take care of yourself, Evelyn."

Then he was gone, the door clicking softly behind him.

The room felt emptier without him.

Evelyn exhaled shakily, staring at the untouched cup of water.

Somewhere deep inside, a decision was forming.