Chapter 35

Evelyn Carter slid into the backseat of a taxi, her pulse quickening with worry for Claire.

The Eclipse Lounge was nothing like the rowdy clubs downtown. Jazz melodies drifted through the space, wrapping the room in a sophisticated calm.

Claire Dawson was still slightly drunk, her cheeks flushed as she propped her chin on her palms.

"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be with Alexander right now?" Claire squinted at Evelyn, her words slightly slurred.

"Alexander can wait. You're more important," Evelyn replied without hesitation.

She had rushed inside, the warmth of the lounge instantly chasing away the evening chill. Without thinking, she shrugged off her coat.

Beneath it, she wore a fitted crimson dress that hugged her waist before flaring slightly at the hips. Though slender, the cut accentuated her curves perfectly.

Her legs, crossed at the barstool, peeked through the daring slit that ran high on her thigh. The sleek ankle boots she wore only drew more attention to them.

The soft glow of the Eclipse Lounge masked the faint scars on Evelyn's feet, giving her an air of effortless elegance in the dim lighting.

Claire's expression twisted with guilt as she slumped onto the barstool. "God, I'm the worst friend alive. I totally ruined your anniversary night, didn't I?"

Evelyn ignored the teasing remark, her gaze zeroing in on the faint puffiness around Claire's eyes. "Let me guess—another argument with Lucas?"

Claire and Lucas had entered into a marriage of convenience two years ago.

Yet those two years had been defined more by distance than togetherness.

For twelve long months, Claire had been overseas, recovering from a career-threatening dance injury. Meanwhile, Lucas had been buried in his postgraduate studies abroad.

Their schedules never aligned—whenever Claire returned, Lucas was gone, and when Lucas came back, Claire was already on another international tour.

In the end, their marriage had become little more than a series of brief reunions and prolonged separations.

Claire gave a humorless laugh, swirling her cocktail. "How can you fight with someone you only see in passing?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond when a sharp voice sliced through the murmur of the lounge—

The girl spun around, her breath catching in her throat.

"Evelyn!?"

Ethan stood before her, a smirk playing on his lips as he swirled the amber liquid in his glass. His chin lifted with that familiar arrogance, his gaze sharp and mocking.

"Following me now? Regretting your little tantrum?" His voice dripped with condescension. "Too late for second thoughts."

Claire shot up from her seat, swaying slightly from the cocktails but determined as she stepped between them.

"Ethan, back off. You don’t get to corner women in public like some entitled brat."

He barely spared her a glance, unimpressed by her slurred defiance.

"Save the act. I’m not here for drunk theatrics." His attention locked onto Evelyn, cold and calculating.

Evelyn arched a brow, feigning confusion. "Who exactly are you accusing?"

His laugh was low, derisive. "Still pretending? Wasn’t it you who called me earlier? What—upset I didn’t answer?"

The air between them crackled with tension.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around her clutch.

Claire bristled, but Evelyn placed a steadying hand on her arm.

Ethan’s smirk deepened. "Cat got your tongue?"

She met his gaze, unflinching. "You’re delusional if you think I’d chase after you."

His eyes darkened. "We’ll see how long that pride lasts."

Before he could retaliate, a familiar voice cut through the noise.

"Evelyn."

Alexander materialized beside her, his presence like a shield. His icy glare locked onto Ethan. "Problem here?"

Ethan’s jaw twitched. "Just catching up."

Alexander’s arm slid around Evelyn’s waist, possessive. "Then you’re done."

The unspoken threat lingered.

Ethan’s lips curled, but he stepped back, raising his glass in mock salute. "Until next time."

As he melted into the crowd, Claire exhaled. "That man is a walking red flag."

Evelyn’s pulse still raced, but Alexander’s grip grounded her.

His voice was a murmur against her ear. "You okay?"

She nodded, but the encounter left a chill.

Ethan wasn’t done.

And neither was she.

"So now you're begging for my attention?"

Ethan's voice was laced with venom.

The murmurs of the surrounding crowd only fueled the tension.

News of the feud between the Caldwell and Carter families had spread like wildfire.

Everyone wanted a front-row seat to the drama—especially knowing Evelyn's past feelings for Ethan and his sudden engagement to her stepsister.

Evelyn tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, lifting her chin in defiance.

When her eyes met Ethan's again, they were glacial, stripped of any lingering warmth.

"Ethan, what makes you think I'd waste my time chasing after you? Do you really believe you're that important?"

Ethan frowned, taken aback. He wasn't used to this version of her—cold, indifferent, unreadable.

"What are you playing at, Evelyn?" His gaze sharpened, searching for cracks in her composure.

The air was thick with tension as Vanessa Hart stepped into the dimly lit corridor of Eclipse Lounge. Her crimson nails tapped impatiently against her champagne flute, her gaze sharp as a blade.

She had been avoiding this moment.

But fate had other plans.

Across the room, Alexander Whitmore stood with his usual effortless elegance, his dark suit accentuating his broad shoulders. His piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, and for a split second, the world around them faded.

Vanessa’s lips curled into a smirk. "Fancy seeing you here, Alex."

His expression remained unreadable. "Vanessa."

The way he said her name—cold, detached—sent a shiver down her spine. She hated how he could still affect her.

She took a deliberate step closer, the scent of her perfume mingling with the faint aroma of whiskey on his breath. "Still pretending you don’t remember what we had?"

His jaw tightened. "We had nothing."

A bitter laugh escaped her. "Liar."

Before she could continue, a familiar voice cut through the tension. "Vanessa, there you are."

Ethan Caldwell appeared beside her, his arm possessively sliding around her waist. His smirk was just as infuriating as ever.

Alexander’s gaze flickered between them, something dark flashing in his eyes.

Vanessa tilted her head, relishing the moment. "Oh, don’t look so surprised, Alex. People move on."

His voice was dangerously low. "Some faster than others."

Ethan’s grip tightened. "Problem, Whitmore?"

The air crackled with unspoken threats.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, Alexander turned away. "None at all."

Vanessa watched him disappear into the crowd, her heart pounding.

This wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.