Chapter 402

"Yes, I did say that." My voice was steady despite the storm inside me. "Well? Did the papers get signed?"

Ethan went completely still.

I wasn't surprised. If he had actually managed to get the divorce finalized, he would have shoved the documents in my face by now, triumphant.

"Evelyn, I do want to end things with her, but—"

His hesitation told me everything. He didn’t mention Alexander’s sudden interference, how he had stormed in and stopped everything.

Instead, his fingers tightened around mine, desperate. "I promise you," he said, voice rough with urgency, "I’ll be divorced within a month."

The look on his face was a mix of frustration and something almost pathetic.

I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.

Then, without warning, he yanked me against him, arms locking around me like I might vanish if he let go.

The sudden warmth of his body against mine startled me.

His cologne—something expensive, musky—drifted over me, but the scent only made nausea rise in my throat.

Before I could stop myself, I shoved him back and bolted for the door.

The sandwich Evelyn had eaten earlier made a sudden, unwelcome reappearance.

Watching her struggle with morning sickness, Ethan felt a sharp pang of sympathy twist in his chest.

When she finally emerged from the bathroom, pale and exhausted, he wordlessly handed her a glass of water, his expression tight with concern.

Evelyn took a careful sip, the cool liquid soothing her throat.

But the water tasted oddly salty, and she frowned, glancing up at him in question.

"I called Dr. Wells," he explained, his voice low and earnest. "He suggested a pinch of salt might help settle your stomach."

"Thank you," she murmured, touched by his thoughtfulness.

"If you're still feeling unwell, just rest. I'll make you something else," he insisted, already striding toward the kitchen before she could respond.

Evelyn wasn’t tired, though.

Instead, she curled up on the couch and flicked on the TV, letting the mindless chatter of a talk show fill the room while her gaze kept drifting toward the kitchen.

Through the open doorway, she watched Ethan move with surprising efficiency, an apron tied around his waist.

The usually composed, sharp-edged man looked almost domestic as he cooked—his movements careful, his focus absolute.

It was strange, seeing him like this.

Not the ruthless businessman or the distant figure she’d once known, but a man preparing a meal for his wife.

For their child.

The thought sent an unexpected warmth through her.

Evelyn's fingertips traced absent circles over her abdomen, a storm of emotions swirling in her chest.

Maybe it was the love that had dimmed between them, leaving her feeling hollow and distant.

Her mind raced—seven days trapped in this gilded cage, seven days dreaming of freedom.

Just as she lost herself in thought, Ethan stepped out of the kitchen, balancing a plate in his hands.

"I made you carbonara," he murmured, placing it on the coffee table. "It's mild. You should be able to stomach it this time."

Noticing her slumped shoulders, he closed the distance between them, his intention obvious as he lifted a fork.

Evelyn turned her face away slightly. "I appreciate it, but I can feed myself."

He sank onto the couch beside her, his gaze never leaving her as she took small, deliberate bites.

It had been so long since they'd shared a quiet moment like this—strangely, it didn’t feel entirely unwelcome.

The woman he still loved was right there, within reach, and for a fleeting second, it was as if time had rewound to simpler days.

His fingers brushed against her cheek, tucking a loose curl behind her ear with aching gentleness.

"Evelyn," he whispered, his eyes flickering down to her stomach. "I want this—us—forever."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning.

Alexander's grip on my hand tightened, his gaze unwavering.

"I swear to you, Evelyn," he said, voice low but firm. "This child will be mine in every way that matters."

A shiver ran down my spine.

The weight of his promise settled over me like a warm blanket.

I searched his eyes—those deep, stormy gray eyes that had seen so much pain, yet still held such tenderness.

There was no hesitation there. No doubt.

Only fierce determination.

My free hand drifted unconsciously to my stomach.

The life growing inside me wasn't his by blood, but in that moment, I knew—it didn't matter.

Not to him.

Not to us.

Tears pricked at my eyes as I remembered the fear that had gripped me when I first discovered the pregnancy.

The shame.

The uncertainty.

All of it melted away under the intensity of Alexander's devotion.

He brought my hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.

"I'll be the father this child deserves," he murmured against my skin. "I'll protect them. Love them. Teach them."

A sob caught in my throat.

This man—this beautiful, broken, healing man—was offering everything without hesitation.

After everything we'd been through.

After all the betrayals.

The lies.

The pain.

Here he stood, ready to claim a child not his own as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

The last of my resistance crumbled.

I launched myself into his arms, burying my face in his chest.

His familiar scent—sandalwood and something uniquely Alexander—wrapped around me.

Strong arms encircled me, holding me together when I felt like I might fly apart.

"Thank you," I whispered into his shirt.

He rested his chin atop my head.

"No," he corrected gently. "Thank you, Evelyn. For trusting me with this. With your heart. With your future."

I tilted my head up to meet his gaze again.

The love shining back at me stole my breath.

In that moment, I knew—no matter what storms lay ahead, we would weather them together.

This child would grow up surrounded by love.

Protected.

Cherished.

And that was all that mattered.