Chapter 370

Ethan's Adam's apple moved visibly, his jawline rigid with tension.

His breathing came in ragged gasps, knuckles white from how tightly he clenched his fists. His entire body shook violently, as if caught in an invisible storm.

Maybe the sheer magnitude of the shock was too much. One second, Ethan was standing—the next, his vision blurred, his knees buckled, and he crashed to the floor, consciousness slipping away like sand through his fingers.

The pain wasn’t sharp—it was a slow, suffocating tide, drowning him in waves of agony. He would’ve preferred a knife to the gut over this. At least that would’ve been clean.

Across the room, Evelyn stiffened, her gaze darting toward the door.

Had she just heard something?

Instinctively, she tried to pull away from Alexander’s arms, her body already twisting toward the sound.

Alexander frowned, his grip tightening around her waist, dragging her back against him.

“Distracted during a kiss?” His voice was low, rough with irritation. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I heard something outside.”

Evelyn’s eyes flicked to the door again. “Didn’t you hear it?”

Alexander, trained for years in tactical response, had reflexes honed to near-perfection. His hearing was sharper than most—but right now, all he cared about was the woman in his arms slipping away.

The sound was unmistakable.

Alexander heard it clearly—the heavy thud of a body hitting the ground.

His lips curled in disdain.

Ethan Caldwell had fainted outside, unable to bear the emotional strain.

Pathetic.

Was this his way of manipulating Evelyn’s sympathy?

Alexander’s voice was cold, detached. "What sound? I didn’t hear anything."

Evelyn frowned.

The noise had been loud enough to echo through the hallway. There was no way he hadn’t heard it.

"I’m going to check."

"Evelyn." His tone sharpened, freezing her in place.

She turned to face him.

"It’s Ethan."

Alexander’s gaze was glacial. "He’s doing this to get your attention. Do you really want to play into his hands?"

Evelyn hesitated.

She remembered—Ethan had fallen into the lake earlier that night.

He had been burning up with fever.

Her fingers tightened around the edge of her sleeve.

She never anticipated he would come searching for her, using the flimsy excuse of needing a bandage from Alexander.

Evelyn saw right through it. Ethan simply wanted to lay eyes on her again.

She knew she should maintain her distance.

But ever since Ethan’s car crash at eighteen, the aftermath had haunted him. Back then, his fever had spiked so dangerously high, the doctors had rushed out a critical condition notice.

The damage never fully healed.

If his temperature rose unchecked now, it could trigger seizures—potentially fatal without immediate intervention.

Despite their fractured history, Evelyn couldn’t ignore the possibility.

That accident had been her fault, after all.

Her fingers tightened around the doorframe. "Fine, I won’t go. But will you at least check on him?"

The thought of Ethan collapsing just beyond the door gnawed at her.

Even if Alexander went instead, it would ease the knot in her chest.

Alexander’s expression remained icy, his voice sharp as shattered glass. "Not a chance."

Her heart clenched at the sight. Even if it were a complete stranger, she couldn't just leave them unconscious on the doorstep.

Nathaniel's jaw tightened, his body rigid with refusal.

When he didn’t move, Evelyn pushed herself up, determined to open the door herself.

Nathaniel exhaled sharply, his dark eyes flashing with frustration.

This had gone on long enough.

Ethan couldn’t keep pulling these desperate stunts to worm his way back into Evelyn’s life.

And there he was—Ethan Caldwell, sprawled across the porch, his skin alarmingly pale.

The impact of his fall had left an ugly bruise blooming across his temple, stark against his ashen complexion. His breathing was shallow, his body limp.