Chapter 30

Evelyn's breath hitched when Alexander called her "wife." The word struck her like a bolt of lightning.

Wife.

But then again, they were getting their marriage license tomorrow. It wasn’t entirely wrong.

Alexander’s voice was slow, slightly slurred from the alcohol. "Were you waiting up for me?"

She didn’t answer, guiding him to the sofa instead.

The usually composed man seemed different tonight—less sharp, almost… soft. Vulnerable.

Like a puppy.

The absurd thought flickered through her mind before she dismissed it.

"Do you want water?" Evelyn crouched in front of him, tilting her head up to meet his gaze. "Should I get you some?"

His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, as if he might drift off any second.

When he didn’t respond, she started to rise—

A strong hand suddenly wrapped around the back of her neck, yanking her backward.

She gasped, losing balance, and landed with one knee braced against his lap.

Before Evelyn could react, Alexander crushed his forehead against hers.

Their gazes locked, and Evelyn's pulse skyrocketed, hammering so violently she feared her ribs might crack.

The alcohol radiating from him carried an edge of raw dominance.

His exhale, thick with whiskey, ghosted over her lips.

Just as she started to relax—

His mouth crashed onto hers, scorching and insistent.

Evelyn's thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm.

This can't be real.

Otherwise, why am I straddling his lap, his fingers digging into my hips, dragging me flush against him?

Shock paralyzed her. By the time sense returned, her lips were already parted, his shirt crumpled beneath her desperate grip.

Reality snapped back like a whip.

She shoved him away without a glance and bolted to her room.

The door slammed.

On the sofa, Alexander's intoxicated facade dissolved the second the lock clicked.

Alexander blinked awake.

His fingertips brushed against his lips, still tasting the lingering sweetness of that stolen moment.

The phone buzzed beside him. A message from Lucas: [You home yet?]

Alexander typed back: [Yeah.]

Lucas replied instantly: [Answering so fast? You sure you’re not wasted?]

Alexander glanced toward the closed bedroom door.

A slow, satisfied smirk curved his lips as he typed: [Getting married tomorrow.]

Silence.

Then, Lucas’s response came, laced with disbelief: [Seriously? Did the government finally assign you a wife in your drunken delusions?]

Alexander’s reply dripped with smug amusement: [Close. My bride is currently tangled in my sheets.]

A full minute passed before Lucas’s next text: [Evelyn?]

Alexander: [Obviously.]

Lucas: [What the hell were you two doing in there?]

Lucas replied: [A man and a woman alone at night, both tipsy—what do you imagine happened? Should I even spell it out for you?]

Alexander could tell Lucas was being deliberately provocative, saying little but implying everything.

Lucas texted again: [No hidden agenda, just reminding you to pick out a gift for my soon-to-be wife.]

Alexander was stunned.

He had known Lucas wouldn’t text him in the middle of the night without a purpose.

Now he understood—his friend had been angling for a wedding present all along.

Meanwhile, Evelyn shut her bedroom door behind her, her pulse racing uncontrollably.

She collapsed onto her bed, drawing slow, deep breaths, willing her heartbeat to steady.

Who could have predicted her first kiss would be with a man she barely knew?

Stranger still, she was set to marry him tomorrow, yet she wasn’t even certain of his full name.

Evelyn had never experienced such emotions with anyone except Ethan Caldwell—let alone shared such intimacy.

The truth was, her reason for this impulsive marriage wasn’t just—

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on Evelyn like a lead blanket.

She had been through too much—betrayal, heartbreak, the ugliest sides of human nature. Now, all she wanted was stability. A home. Someone to share her life with.

Ethan Caldwell was in the past. She had made her choice. If she was going to marry Alexander, she would commit fully, leaving no room for lingering doubts.

But was this moving too fast?

Their first night together, and they had already kissed?

Heat rushed to her cheeks as the memory replayed in her mind. The way his lips had brushed against hers, tentative yet certain. The way his fingers had tangled in her hair, pulling her closer—

Evelyn buried her face in her pillow, kicking her legs beneath the sheets.

Stop. Thinking. About. It.

She slapped her own cheeks lightly, willing the images away.

Sleep came in restless waves, and when she finally opened her eyes again, sunlight streamed through the curtains.

After washing up, she lingered by the door, twisting her fingers together. Should she go out? Face him?

Then—a knock.

Sharp. Precise.

Her breath hitched.

Alexander.

The silence of my bedroom pressed against me like a suffocating weight.

Moonlight streamed through the half-drawn curtains, casting silver streaks across the duvet. I traced the patterns absently, my thoughts tangled in knots.

Alexander had left hours ago, his parting words still echoing in my mind.

I rolled onto my side, clutching a pillow to my chest. The scent of his cologne lingered faintly on the fabric, a cruel reminder of his absence.

Downstairs, the grandfather clock chimed twice. Two AM.

Sleep remained elusive.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. A message from Vanessa—another thinly veiled jab disguised as concern. I tossed it aside without replying.

The ceiling fan whirred softly, doing little to dispel the summer heat.

I closed my eyes, but memories flashed behind my lids—Alexander’s smile, the way his fingers had brushed mine at dinner, the unspoken tension between us.

A car engine purred outside. My pulse spiked.

But it passed by, taillights fading into the darkness.

I exhaled sharply.

The house creaked, settling into its foundations. Somewhere, a faucet dripped.

I sat up abruptly, frustration boiling over.

This was ridiculous.

I grabbed my robe and padded to the window, pushing it open. Cool air rushed in, carrying the faint scent of roses from the garden below.

The estate grounds stretched before me, bathed in moonlight. Peaceful. Deceptive.

A shadow moved near the gazebo.

I froze.

Then it was gone—just a trick of the light, perhaps.

But my skin prickled.

Something was coming. I could feel it in my bones.

And when it arrived, nothing would ever be the same.