Chapter 235
Evelyn was completely taken aback by Alexander's words.
It was astonishing—a man of his caliber, with unmatched brilliance and prestige, would willingly humble himself in matters of the heart.
He wanted her to see him as her lover from now on.
When she met his intense, adoring gaze, an unfamiliar warmth spread through her chest.
Even after marrying Alexander, Evelyn had never truly considered him her husband.
To her, he had always been a powerful ally, a safety net—nothing more. Love had never factored into it.
Alexander must have sensed this. That was why he had orchestrated this grand confession.
Was this his way of courting a woman?
Given his tragic upbringing, he likely had no concept of what love truly meant.
From the moment he was born, the Whitmore family had cast him aside, forcing him to grow up in a dilapidated shack in the countryside.
The thought made her chest tighten.
Yet here he was, baring his heart to her with a vulnerability she had never expected.
Evelyn swallowed hard, her fingers curling into the fabric of her dress.
What was she supposed to say?
How could she respond to something so raw, so unexpected?
Alexander waited, his expression unreadable.
The silence between them stretched, heavy with unspoken emotions.
Then, just as she opened her mouth to speak—
A sharp knock shattered the moment.
Evelyn flinched.
Alexander's jaw tightened, his eyes flashing with irritation.
"Who is it?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous.
The door swung open.
Ethan Caldwell stood there, his cold gaze flickering between them.
His lips curled into a mocking smile.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Evelyn's breath caught.
Alexander's hand subtly shifted, his fingers brushing against hers in a silent warning.
Ethan's eyes darkened.
The air crackled with tension.
Evelyn knew—this wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the penthouse.
Alexander Whitmore had survived on scraps for years, treated like an afterthought by the very family that should have cherished him.
For over two decades, they had turned their backs on him, as if he were nothing more than a ghost haunting their gilded halls.
Now, with the rest of the Whitmore family proving utterly incompetent, Harold Aniston had come crawling back, desperate for Alexander's return.
The world whispered about how ruthlessly Alexander had seized control of Titan Capital Group in just twelve months.
But no one spoke of the years of suffering that had forged him.
Scars, both old and new, marked his body—each one a testament to battles fought alone.
Evelyn Carter's heart ached at the thought.
Twenty-nine years of hardship.
All he had ever wanted was a family who loved him and a woman who saw him for who he truly was.
Yet, deceit surrounded him at every turn.
Evelyn pressed her cheek against Alexander's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He had given her so much—far more than she could ever repay, even for saving his life that fateful night.
All he asked in return was her love.
How could she deny him something so simple?
Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt as she held him tighter.
"Mr. Whitmore," she murmured, her voice soft but certain, "my heart has always been yours to take."
The words hung between them, a promise sealed in the quiet of the evening.
A mischievous grin played on his lips.
The seven years Evelyn had spent with Ethan proved she was a woman of unwavering loyalty.
She just needed time—time to open her heart to love again.
As the fireworks faded, the crowd began to disperse.
Ethan, standing at a distance, looked as if his soul had been ripped from him. His gaze remained locked on Evelyn and Alexander, still wrapped in each other's arms.
He watched as she leaned up, whispering something against Alexander's ear.
The effect was immediate—Alexander visibly tensed, his grip tightening around her waist.
Even from where he stood, Ethan could practically feel the raw, possessive energy radiating off Alexander.
If not for the lingering spectators, he had no doubt Alexander would have done something reckless—just like that night in the car.
A sharp, bitter jealousy clawed at Ethan's chest.
Only now did he truly understand the depth of his own feelings.
He couldn’t stand it.
The way Alexander touched her.
The way she responded.
It was unbearable.
The sight of Evelyn in Alexander's arms sent a wave of conflicting emotions crashing through Ethan. It was as if someone had overturned a spice rack inside him—bitterness, anger, and something far more unsettling.
His chest tightened.
His hands clenched into fists at his sides.
This wasn't just irritation.
This was jealousy.
A sharp, relentless ache twisted inside him, like a blade carving deeper with every second. Evelyn should have been his. She was supposed to be in his arms, not Alexander's.
The thought was unbearable.
Before he could stop himself, he was striding toward them, his pulse roaring in his ears.