Chapter 230
Evelyn had never conspired with those criminals, nor had she ever been intimate with them. The entire scenario had been meticulously orchestrated by Vanessa herself.
A chill ran down Ethan's spine.
If this was true, Vanessa was far more cunning than he'd ever imagined.
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Having deceived him once, it wouldn't be difficult for her to do it again—especially given how skilled she was at manipulation and disguise.
At that moment, only one thought consumed Ethan's mind.
He needed to see Evelyn. Now.
He wanted to hear her recount the events of that night, to confirm whether his suspicions were correct.
Ethan moved swiftly toward the hotel elevators, knowing Evelyn was staying in Room 808.
When he reached the eighth floor, he stood outside her door and pressed the doorbell repeatedly.
No answer.
His frown deepened. A sudden realization struck him.
Was Evelyn with Alexander?
His pulse quickened.
If she was, then everything was about to become infinitely more complicated.
Ethan Caldwell stormed up the grand staircase, his footsteps echoing with barely contained fury.
His mind replayed the events of last night—Evelyn Carter and Alexander Whitmore tangled in the sheets of the presidential suite.
The thought sent a sharp, twisting pain through his chest.
He had been Evelyn’s first love, yet he had never dared to claim her so completely. But Alexander? He had taken everything in a single night.
Ethan reached the door of Alexander’s suite and jabbed the doorbell with a trembling finger.
He knew this was reckless. Undignified. But he didn’t care.
Even if Alexander tore into him with that cold, cutting voice, even if it cost him everything—he had to see her.
No answer.
His fist pounded against the door, the sound reverberating down the hall.
Simon Graves, Alexander’s ever-watchful assistant, emerged from the neighboring suite, his sharp eyes widening at Ethan’s disheveled state.
“What the hell is going on?” Simon demanded, his voice laced with irritation.
Ethan whirled on him, gripping his shoulders with bruising force.
“Where is he?” Ethan’s voice was raw, desperate. “Where’s Alexander? He’s with Evelyn, isn’t he?”
Simon gave a curt nod. "They're probably enjoying chocolate fondue right now."
Ethan's expression darkened as he turned on his heel. As he strode down the hallway, a door suddenly swung open.
Vanessa emerged, her hair still damp from the shower. "Ethan! Where are you going?" Her voice trembled with barely concealed panic.
The conversation with Ethan had left her unsettled. She couldn't tell how much of her story he actually believed.
Though he'd surprised her with that unexpected kiss, his eyes had remained chillingly distant.
"Ethan, wait up!"
When he stepped into the elevator without responding, Vanessa didn't hesitate. She sprinted after him, her bare feet slapping against the marble floor.
Even from several feet away, she could feel the icy aura surrounding him.
This version of Ethan was unfamiliar territory for her.
The elevator doors began closing when Vanessa slipped inside. Instead of pressing the lobby button, Ethan's finger jabbed the penthouse level.
As they ascended, Vanessa's pulse quickened. The rooftop access was always locked - except today, when the door stood slightly ajar.
The moment the elevator chimed, Ethan seized Vanessa's wrist with bruising force. Without a word, he dragged her onto the windswept rooftop.
The skyscraper loomed ominously over the coastline, its height offering a panoramic view that only emphasized the endless darkness of the sea below.
The waves crashed violently against the shore, their inky blackness swallowing any trace of light.
Without warning, Ethan swung his legs over the rooftop railing and perched precariously on the edge.
Vanessa's breath caught in her throat.
Thirty stories up—a nightmare for anyone with even the slightest fear of heights. The railing offered no protection, and one wrong move would send him plummeting into the abyss.
Her pulse spiked. "Ethan, get down! It's not safe!"
He didn’t even glance her way.
His gaze remained fixed on the starless sky, empty and suffocating.
A sharp gust of wind tugged at his shirt, making him look even smaller against the vast, unforgiving night.
What was going through his mind?
No one could tell.