Chapter 23

The spoon in Evelyn's hand froze mid-air at Alexander's question.

Her parents' cold indifference flashed through her mind. She lowered her lashes, hiding the sudden ache in her chest. "No," she murmured. "I can go back alone."

She didn’t want him to know. Didn’t want anyone to know how little she mattered to them.

Alexander studied her for a long moment but said nothing.

Then—

The restaurant's television blared to life with breaking entertainment news. The volume was jarring, and Evelyn instinctively turned toward the screen.

There they were—Ethan Caldwell and Vanessa Hart, swarmed by paparazzi outside a hotel suite.

Vanessa hid behind Ethan, her face buried in her hands as camera flashes exploded around them. The shot panned to reveal the massive bed behind them—rumpled sheets, half-empty champagne glasses.

Security guards struggled to control the chaos.

Evelyn's breath caught when the bold headline flashed across the screen:

"SCANDAL: HEIR ETHAN CALDWELL CAUGHT IN COMPROMISING POSITION WITH STEPSISTER VANESSA HART!"

Her fingers tightened around the spoon.

The past never really stayed buried, did it?

The words "LIVE" flashed in bold red letters on the television screen.

Evelyn blinked in disbelief. Are they seriously still trapped in that hotel?

Alexander followed her gaze to the TV, his expression unreadable.

Just as the news reporter began speaking, his phone buzzed insistently. He snatched it up and strode out of the room, pausing only to flick the television off with a sharp gesture.

Evelyn frowned. "What was that for?"

Alexander tilted his head, phone still pressed to his ear. "Too noisy. Distracting."

She pressed her lips together but said nothing more. Finishing the last bite of her meal, she rose just as he ended the call.

"You sure you don’t want me to come with you?" His voice was low, knowing.

Alexander wasn’t blind—he knew Hawthorne Estate was anything but welcoming for Evelyn. His presence might at least keep the wolves at bay.

She shook her head firmly. "I’ll manage."

He didn’t push. "Fine. I’ve got business to handle. Once you get your things, head straight to my place."

Evelyn nodded, memorizing the address he rattled off. Later, when she pulled it up on her phone, she wasn’t surprised to find it was one of the most exclusive high-rises in Cresthaven.

The kind of place with security that required retinal scans.

The kind of place where people like Alexander Whitmore belonged.

She pocketed her phone, her fingers brushing against the folded scarf in her coat.

The one that still smelled faintly of cedar and regret.

Evelyn had always assumed Alexander was just an ordinary entrepreneur, but the sleek black Mercedes he drove suggested otherwise.

As his car disappeared around the corner, she blinked, realization dawning.

Had she really never asked his full name all this time?

Then again, it hardly mattered now. They were bound by marriage—there would be countless opportunities to ask later.

Hailing a cab, Evelyn directed the driver toward the Hawthorne Estate.

The wrought-iron gates stood firmly closed. She pressed the buzzer twice before a maid cracked the door open just enough to peer out.

Recognition flashed across the woman's face. "Miss Carter? You've returned?"

Evelyn gave a quiet hum of acknowledgment and stepped inside without waiting for invitation.

"Miss Carter..." The maid wrung her hands. "Were you... looking for Mrs. Hayes? She's resting with a migraine. Said she wasn't to be disturbed." Her gaze lingered on Evelyn's thin frame with poorly concealed pity.

Who would've imagined, the maid thought, the true heiress of the Hayes fortune would spend three years behind bars? Look at her—all sharp angles and hollow cheeks. That prison must've been hell.

The grand foyer felt colder than she remembered. Evelyn's fingers brushed against the silk scarf around her neck—Alexander's parting gift that morning. The delicate fabric whispered against her skin, a stark contrast to the heavy memories pressing down on her.

Somewhere upstairs, her stepmother's migraine was undoubtedly real. Margaret Hayes always did develop headaches when inconvenient truths came knocking.

Evelyn's lips curved without humor. Three years changed many things, but some patterns remained stubbornly unchanged.

Evelyn's voice was firm as she spoke. "I didn't come for her. Where are my belongings? Where did they store them?"

The servant hesitated briefly before answering, "In the storage room, ma'am."

Giving a curt nod, Evelyn strode toward the storage room without another word.

Her possessions had been carelessly crammed into a small, battered box tucked away in the darkest corner.

A thick layer of dust coated the lid, sending Evelyn into a brief coughing fit as she lifted it. She waved a hand to clear the air before sifting through the contents.

Her documents were right where she expected them to be.

She had no intention of lingering. After retrieving what she needed, she started to close the box—

Then she saw it.

Tucked beneath a stack of old papers lay a neatly folded men’s scarf.

The gray knitted fabric had dulled with time, its once-soft texture now rough beneath her fingertips.

Her breath caught.

Slowly, she knelt and traced the worn threads, memories flooding back in an unwelcome rush.

The familiarity of it was almost cruel.

Without hesitation, Evelyn pulled it free, draping it over her arm.

She would toss it in the nearest trash bin on her way out.

Some things weren’t worth keeping.

The silk scarf slipped through Evelyn's fingers like a forgotten memory.

She finally understood—it never truly belonged to her. Just like Ethan Caldwell, it was never meant to stay.

With a deep breath, she turned away from the storage room, ready to leave the past behind.

But fate had other plans.

She barely took two steps before colliding with someone in a frantic rush.

Vanessa Hart stumbled back, her face pale, her breath ragged—as if she were running from something unseen.

The impact sent Vanessa sprawling onto the floor with a sharp cry.

When her wide, startled eyes locked onto Evelyn, disbelief flickered across her face.

"You?" Vanessa gasped. "What are you doing here?"

The air between them crackled with tension.

Evelyn's grip tightened around the scarf she still held.

Some things, it seemed, weren't so easy to let go.