Chapter 385

Evelyn Carter stared at Ethan Caldwell with icy detachment. "My feelings for you are gone. Nothing you do will change that."

"Be reasonable. You can't keep me imprisoned indefinitely. When I get out, how do you plan to explain this to the Whitmore family?"

His recklessness was bordering on foolishness.

"Evelyn, you still care. I can see it in your eyes—you're worried about the Whitmores coming after me. Relax. Worst case, I'll cut ties with them completely."

Evelyn exhaled in frustration.

Ethan nudged the plate toward her. "Eat. If not for yourself, then for the baby."

At the mention of the child, her guard shot up. "You know?"

So that was why she couldn’t find the medical report earlier. She’d assumed it was misplaced, but he’d taken it.

"Don’t look at me like that. I’d never harm our child."

To prove his point, he twirled a forkful of spaghetti and took a deliberate bite. "See? No poison."

He chewed, then grimaced. "Though it’s criminally under-seasoned."

Evelyn was speechless, watching as Ethan resembled a child who had just lost his favorite toy.

It was painfully obvious—he would never find what he was looking for, and they could never return to how things used to be. So why couldn’t he accept it? Why did he keep lying to himself?

Did he really believe she would change her mind?

Evelyn didn’t touch a single bite of the pasta he had made. Instead, she retreated to her room and locked the door behind her.

Ethan hesitated outside, his hand hovering over the doorknob before dropping it when he realized she had locked him out.

"I need to get back to the hospital," he said, his voice strained. "Evelyn, rest well. I’ll come see you in a couple of days."

Silence.

Her thoughts were a tangled mess.

Reasoning with Ethan was impossible now.

The man who had always carried himself with arrogance had tied an apron around his waist, cooked for her, and spoken to her with a gentleness that unsettled her. It was unnerving.

The front door slammed shut. The engine of his car roared to life before fading into the distance.

Evelyn lay on the bed, her gaze fixed on the ceiling, sleep the furthest thing from her mind.

She couldn’t just sit here and wait.

She had to find a way out.

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand ballroom of Whitmore Manor, she felt the weight of countless eyes upon her.

The chandeliers cast a golden glow over the sea of elegantly dressed guests, their whispers weaving through the air like invisible threads.

Alexander stood at the center of the room, his presence commanding attention even without words.

Vanessa Hart, her stepsister, was already by his side, her crimson gown a deliberate contrast to Evelyn’s ivory dress.

Ethan Caldwell, her ex-fiancé, lingered near the champagne tower, his gaze sharp as a blade.

She tightened her grip on her clutch, forcing herself to breathe.

This wasn’t just a party—it was a battlefield.

Nathan Reeves, Ethan’s ever-loyal assistant, moved through the crowd with practiced ease, exchanging pleasantries while his eyes darted toward Evelyn.

She ignored him, focusing instead on the warmth of Alexander’s hand when it found hers.

“You look stunning,” he murmured, his voice low enough that only she could hear.

A flicker of reassurance settled in her chest.

Then the music shifted.

Vanessa’s laugh rang out, bright and calculated, as she raised her glass.

“To family,” she declared, her smile razor-thin.

Evelyn’s pulse spiked.

Because she knew—this toast wasn’t a celebration.

It was a warning.

Across the room, Ethan’s lips curved into a smirk as he locked eyes with her.

The game had begun.

And Evelyn had no intention of losing.

There had to be a way.

At Eclipse Lounge, Alexander sat in a shadowed corner booth while Lucas slumped drunkenly beside him.

"How could she have Julian's child?" Lucas's voice was thick with liquor and bitterness. "Tell me, Alex—what does that pretty boy have that I don't? He dances for money in clubs. Doesn’t that disgust her?"

His fingers tightened around his glass. "I wasted my heart mourning her, and she was already moving on. I fought like hell to win her back, and now she’s carrying another man’s baby."

With a sharp curse, Lucas slammed his drink down hard enough to make the ice rattle. "She’s going to be the death of me."

The pain in his voice was raw. Even now, he couldn’t wrap his mind around Claire being pregnant with Julian’s child.

"Since when did she become so fickle? She loved me—I know she did. Then, in the blink of an eye, she’s in someone else’s arms?"

Every word out of Lucas’s mouth was a knife twisting in Alexander’s own wounds.

He didn’t answer. Just lifted his glass and drank.

"Hey, I’m the one drowning my sorrows here," Lucas slurred, squinting at him. "Why are you matching me shot for shot?"

The dim lighting of the bar couldn’t hide the storm in Alexander’s eyes.

Somewhere in the haze of alcohol, there had to be an answer.

A way to fix what was broken.

A way to make her his again.

Alexander downed three more glasses of bourbon in quick succession.

He abruptly set the crystal tumbler down with a sharp clink and rose from his seat.

Lucas blinked in confusion as his friend strode toward the exit. "What's gotten into you? We just agreed to drown our sorrows tonight. You bailing on me already?"

Alexander only grabbed his tailored coat from the velvet booth without responding.

Lucas suddenly snapped his fingers, realization dawning. "Right! Your wife's waiting at home! Unlike some of us who got dumped, you've actually got someone to go back to!"

He waved dismissively, completely missing the icy storm brewing in Alexander's steel-gray eyes. "Go on then. Don't keep the little woman waiting."

Alexander's jaw tightened.

Each careless word from Lucas made his expression grow more frigid.

Yet he offered no explanation as he turned on his heel.

No self-respecting man wanted to admit being left by his wife.

Though apparently Lucas had no such pride.

The Whitmore Manor stood dark and silent when he arrived.

No lights. No Evelyn.

Just empty rooms echoing with absence.