Chapter 29
Vanessa bit her lower lip until she tasted blood.
She knew Ethan better than anyone—once suspicion took root in his mind, it would only grow deeper unless she confessed everything.
"Ethan," she began, her voice trembling slightly. "I only wanted a few paparazzi shots. I never imagined it would attract television crews and spiral out of control like this."
Ethan had always been fond of Vanessa. He had even defied his family's wishes, considering marriage despite their disapproval.
But being forced into a situation against his will? That was something Ethan Caldwell would never tolerate.
Being manipulated only fueled his defiance.
Seeing the storm brewing in Ethan's expression, Vanessa reached for his hand. "Ethan, I just... I want us to be together."
Ethan didn't answer. He kept walking, his strides long and deliberate.
"Ethan?" When he pulled away from her touch, her eyes instantly welled with tears.
Only then did he finally turn to face her, his voice cold.
A wave of helplessness crashed over me. "Wasn't there supposed to be a press conference? The reporters are already waiting. You should dry those tears before facing them!"
At his words, Vanessa finally exhaled in relief.
She rushed forward, throwing her arms around Ethan’s waist, pressing herself against him. Her voice was soft, trembling with desperation.
"Love makes people selfish. I just want to be by your side, Ethan. I’ll take all the blame, but Alexander only gave me three days. If I can’t convince you, he’ll ruin me."
Her fingers tightened around him. "I don’t care about myself, but I can’t bear to lose you. I had no other choice."
Ethan hesitated.
Memories of Vanessa’s silent sacrifices over the years flickered through his mind. A pang of sympathy twisted in his chest.
Love was selfish. Maybe Vanessa had gone too far—but only because she loved him too much.
Unlike Evelyn.
Evelyn had never schemed against him.
His gaze dropped, shadows darkening his eyes.
Meanwhile, sleep eluded Evelyn.
Perhaps it was the unfamiliar surroundings, or perhaps it was the knowledge that tomorrow morning, she and Alexander would sign their marriage license.
Whatever the reason, she tossed restlessly in bed, sheets tangling around her legs.
Then—
The faint click of the door lock echoed through the silent room.
Evelyn glanced at the clock. Midnight had come and gone. Her pulse quickened as she wondered, "Could it be him?"
She slid her feet into the plush slippers and padded toward the hallway. Just as she reached the entrance, the door swung open from the outside.
A tall figure in a tailored suit staggered in, reeking of expensive whiskey. Alexander—her husband—lost his balance the moment he crossed the threshold, collapsing against her with a heavy thud.
Evelyn gasped, unprepared for the sudden weight. His muscular frame pressed against hers, sending a jolt through her body.
Her breath hitched.
The intoxicating scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol enveloped her. His nose grazed her cheek, the warmth of his skin making her face burn.
Behind them, the door slammed shut, plunging the foyer into darkness.
In the suffocating silence, his ragged breaths filled the space between them. The faint brush of his lips against her temple sent shivers down her spine.
She turned her head slightly—too quickly—and her lips accidentally skimmed the rough stubble along his jaw.
Electricity shot through her veins. Her heart hammered so loudly she was certain he could hear it.
A single, panicked thought raced through her mind:
What had she just done?
Had she—had she really just kissed him?
Her fingers quivered against his chest as Evelyn instinctively tightened her grip on Alexander's shirt, her heart pounding wildly.
She barely managed to steady him before he could collapse.
Her gaze dropped to his face, searching for any sign of awareness.
Thankfully, he was too far gone—his forehead resting heavily against her shoulder, his breathing deep and uneven.
Relief washed over her.
"Are you alright?" she whispered, her voice barely audible.
How much did he drink to end up like this?
Running a company must be exhausting.
Alexander didn’t answer.
But when her lips accidentally brushed against his temple, his lashes fluttered.
In one swift motion, his arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him.
The scent of whiskey clung to his breath as he murmured, voice rough with sleep and intoxication, "Sweetheart... you're still awake?"
Evelyn froze.
Sweetheart?
Since when did he call her that?
Her pulse spiked.
And then—
She realized something far more dangerous.
What had she just done?