Chapter 392

Ethan's voice was firm. "Absolutely. I never go back on my word."

I crossed my arms. "And Vanessa? She's carrying your child, yet you haven't even visited her?"

His expression darkened. "I've made it clear—that child means nothing to me. I don't love her. Just the sight of her makes me sick now."

He clearly wanted to drop the subject, shifting his attention elsewhere.

With a dramatic flourish, he opened the trunk of his car, revealing an extravagant haul.

Dresses. Designer handbags. Diamond necklaces. Soon, the entire living room glittered with luxury.

"Evelyn, I handpicked every single item for you." Ethan gestured proudly at the display. "Tell me what else you desire. I'll have it delivered by tomorrow."

His generosity knew no bounds. A quick glance told me even the simplest blouse cost a fortune.

Among the treasures were rare, limited-edition bags—the kind even money couldn't easily buy.

My fingers brushed over a delicate perfume bottle.

Without warning, I uncapped it and sprayed a mist directly at him.

She held up the delicate glass bottle. "What do you think of this scent?"

Ethan froze. He hadn't anticipated Evelyn initiating a conversation about something so trivial.

His pulse quickened. If she's asking my opinion on perfume, does that mean she's finally opening up to me?

A hopeful smile tugged at his lips. "It's lovely," he answered, voice warm with barely contained delight.

Evelyn studied the bottle, her expression unreadable. The floral notes made her stomach churn—her morning sickness had been relentless these past weeks.

But she forced a serene smile. If pretending to tolerate this cloying fragrance would lower his guard, she'd endure it.

Then, casually, as if discussing the weather—"What brand does Vanessa prefer?"

The question hit like ice water. "Evelyn—"

Just moments ago, he'd dared to hope. The way she'd examined the perfume, he'd foolishly imagined gifting her an entire collection.

And yet, here they were again.

His jaw tightened. "Why does she matter so much to you?"

Evelyn met his gaze steadily. "If you truly want this," she said, fingers tightening around the bottle, "go back to Whitmore Manor right now. Get her to sign the papers."

The unspoken demand hung between them—Prove it.

Evelyn gazed into Ethan's eyes, closing the distance between them with deliberate steps. Her fingers brushed against his, feather-light.

"How else would I know if your feelings are genuine?" she murmured. "You've never truly shown me your love, have you?"

Her delicate features were inches from his, her breath warm against his skin.

Ethan's pulse quickened. The woman he had obsessed over for so long was finally within reach. His arms moved instinctively, craving the weight of her against him.

Evelyn didn't pull away.

Disgust coiled in her stomach, but she forced herself to comply, sliding her hands around his waist.

Ethan froze.

He hadn't expected her to embrace him first. A rush of triumph surged through him. His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, tilting her face toward his.

Evelyn flinched, turning her head sharply.

"Ethan," she whispered, resting her forehead against his shoulder. "Not until the divorce is final."

Her wide, innocent eyes held his, filled with such fragile purity that it made him hesitate. To push further now would be sacrilege.

The familiar scent of Evelyn enveloped him, bringing an unexpected sense of calm. At last, he held the woman he adored, and for the first time in weeks, contentment settled over him.

When physical attraction burned this intensely, resistance was futile. The need to close the distance, to claim, was instinctive.

And right now, Ethan Caldwell wanted nothing more than to pull Evelyn Carter closer.

Love made him reckless. It made him crave her touch, her kiss, every forbidden inch of her.

"Once I bring you the signed divorce papers, you'll give me a real chance?" His voice was rough with uncertainty, fingers tightening around her waist. "You promise, Evelyn?"

She exhaled, nodding. "Yes. That's the deal."

"Then wait for me."

Without another word, Ethan turned on his heel and strode toward the gates.

Evelyn watched his car disappear down the driveway before finally releasing the breath she'd been holding.

Please don't disappoint me.

Please come back.

Whitmore Manor stood an hour's drive from Hawthorne Estate.

Ethan didn't hesitate. The moment his car pulled away, he ordered his driver straight to the Whitmore residence.

His phone buzzed—Nathan Reeves, his ever-efficient assistant, was already calling.

The moment Ethan stepped back into Whitmore Manor, his assistant Nathan was already waiting in the foyer with two freshly printed documents in hand.

"I've revised the terms as you instructed," Nathan said, adjusting his glasses. "The child support has been raised to eighty million. If she signs, the total settlement will be one hundred million."

The papers felt heavy in Ethan's grip.

He had expected this moment for months, yet now that it was here, his chest tightened inexplicably.

The numbers were generous—more than fair.

But would Evelyn even care about the money?

She had never been the type to be swayed by wealth.

Still, this was the only way.

A clean break.

No more complications.

No more pain.

He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening around the documents.

"Make sure she gets them by tonight."

Nathan nodded, already pulling out his phone to arrange the delivery.

Ethan turned away, his jaw clenched.

This was for the best.

Wasn't it?

Yet as he walked toward his study, the weight of the decision settled over him like a storm cloud.

One signature.

And everything would change.

Forever.

A hundred million dollars was no small sum.

Even among the elite, few could casually produce such an amount.

Ethan Caldwell had only offered such generous terms because he was desperate to remove Vanessa Hart from the picture—quickly.

After all, he had known Evelyn Carter for years. He understood her limits. She wouldn’t keep giving him chances.

This was his opportunity. If he failed to act now, if he disappointed her again, there would be no redemption left.

By the time he returned to Whitmore Manor, his decision was final.

Vanessa had to go.

Ethan tucked the documents under his arm and stepped inside, only to freeze in the foyer.

There, seated in the living room with effortless poise, was Alexander Whitmore.

Alexander lounged on the sofa, flipping through the financial section of the morning paper as if he belonged there.

Ethan’s breath caught.

This wasn’t part of the plan.