Chapter 383

Alexander's brows furrowed deeply.

Had Evelyn even bothered to visit Ethan at the hospital?

His fingers curled into tight fists, knuckles turning white.

"So Ethan might know where Mrs. Whitmore is," Simon murmured cautiously, watching Alexander's expression. "Should we reach out to him?"

A cold, mocking smile twisted Alexander's lips.

Evelyn had sent him messages demanding space, insisting she never wanted to see him again. Wouldn’t it be pathetic if he went crawling after her now?

And then there was the report from the bodyguard he’d assigned to protect her—she had initiated a reconciliation with Ethan.

How laughable.

All his efforts had been for nothing. No matter what he did, it could never compete with her seven years of devotion to Ethan.

Alexander’s eyes burned with fury. Contacting Ethan now would only invite humiliation.

"Mr. Whitmore?" Simon’s voice wavered when Alexander remained silent for too long. His stomach tightened with unease.

"What? Aren't we going to search for Mrs. Whitmore?"

When Evelyn regained consciousness, golden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

A sharp pain throbbed at the base of her skull as she pushed herself upright.

The lavish bedroom smelled faintly of fresh roses and lemon polish.

This wasn't her penthouse. Not Alexander's either.

Memories flooded back - Ethan's cold eyes in the hospital stairwell, the sudden impact against her temple.

She'd been kidnapped.

Yet the gilded cage surprised her. No locked doors. No restraints.

Servants moved like ghosts through the sprawling villa, their eyes averted when she passed.

At noon, they presented an elaborate spread - seared scallops, truffle risotto, chocolate soufflé.

Her stomach churned.

Morning sickness and dread killed any appetite.

The silverware gleamed mockingly as she pushed the plate away.

She needed to think. To escape.

But first, she needed to understand why Ethan had taken her.

The sprawling Hawthorne Estate had no cell reception, no Wi-Fi, just a single antique television gathering dust in the parlor.

Not exactly useful for sending distress signals.

Evelyn Carter fixed her gaze on the trembling maid. "Where's Ethan? I demand to see him immediately."

The servant wrung her hands. "Mr. Caldwell remains hospitalized. He'll visit once the doctors discharge him."

Fury licked through Evelyn's veins. Ethan had truly lost his mind this time.

Didn't he realize the consequences?

If the Whitmores discovered he'd kidnapped Alexander's wife, they'd tear him apart limb by limb. Alexander wouldn't rest until Ethan's entire world crumbled to ashes.

Why would a Cresthaven elite like Ethan risk everything for this madness?

The staff clearly operated under strict orders. No smartphones, no landlines—just the oppressive silence of the mountains surrounding the estate.

Evelyn exhaled sharply.

Even if she slipped past the guards, the wilderness stretched for miles. Without GPS or landmarks, she'd be wandering straight into nature's merciless jaws.

The grandfather clock chimed ominously as Evelyn made her decision.

If Ethan wanted to play games, she'd raise the stakes.

Starting now, not a single bite of food would pass her lips.

Let's see how long before her "host" came running.

The silver tray clinked softly as the maid placed dinner on the bedside table once more.

Evelyn Carter turned her face away, her stomach growling but her resolve unshaken.

She had only allowed herself a few sips of water all day.

The staff noted everything. When midnight draped the Hawthorne Estate in silence, they discreetly dialed Ethan Caldwell.

"Mr. Caldwell," the head maid whispered, "Ms. Carter hasn't touched a single meal. It appears she's refusing to eat. What should we—"

The mansion was eerily still, amplifying even the faintest rustle of fabric.

Sometime past three AM, Evelyn stirred in bed.

A door creaked open downstairs.

Then, the purr of an engine cut through the night.

Her eyes snapped open in the darkness.