Chapter 408

Evelyn had sensed Ethan's intense stare for quite some time.

She pretended to be completely engrossed in the symphony, though she could feel his gaze burning into her from the corner of her eye.

Evelyn was certain that if their eyes locked, Ethan wouldn’t hesitate to pull her into a kiss.

The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

Finally, the performance came to an end.

The musicians took their bows on stage. Under Ethan’s watchful presence, Evelyn didn’t dare make a single move.

They returned to the car in silence, heading toward the upscale French bistro he had chosen.

As they passed a bustling shopping district, Evelyn’s attention was caught by a vibrant advertisement for a Japanese izakaya flashing across a massive LED screen.

"I’m not in the mood for French cuisine," she said suddenly. "Let’s try that Japanese place instead."

The car merged into the weekend traffic, the streets packed with lively crowds.

Ethan’s gaze flickered to her stomach. "You’re pregnant, Evelyn. Are you sure you want to be in such a crowded area? What if someone accidentally—"

Evelyn clung to Ethan's arm, her voice dripping with playful sweetness. "I'm craving sushi. Can we?"

Her wide, innocent eyes met his, making resistance impossible for Ethan.

He gave a curt nod, instructing the driver to turn back toward the mall.

The car soon rolled into the underground garage. Just as Evelyn reached for the door handle, Ethan's fingers closed around hers, tight and possessive.

Startled, she bit her lip and tugged her hand free.

"People might see us," she whispered.

Ethan's gaze darkened. "I don't give a damn."

"But I do," Evelyn countered, stepping back. "Right now, I'm your aunt. I won’t let gossip ruin your reputation because of me."

She clasped her hands behind her back, but the intensity in Ethan's stare only burned hotter.

He hadn’t anticipated her concern for him.

Evelyn pretended not to notice, striding ahead toward the nearly empty Japanese restaurant.

Once seated, she glanced toward the restroom. "I’ll be right back," she said, rising smoothly.

Ethan's piercing gaze followed Evelyn but he made no move to stop her.

With a subtle nod to the security detail behind him, one of the broad-shouldered men immediately fell into step behind her.

"Ms. Carter, allow me to escort you," the bodyguard intoned, his voice laced with unspoken warning.

They reached the restroom entrance, but the guard stepped in first—methodically checking each stall, rapping his knuckles against the doors to confirm they were empty before finally permitting her entry.

Evelyn exhaled sharply at the excessive precaution.

"Standard protocol, Ms. Carter," the man said smoothly, positioning himself outside the door. "Can't risk any... unexpected encounters."

She slammed the lock shut behind her, sinking onto the closed toilet seat.

Her pulse hammered against her ribs. This was her first moment alone in days.

Could she really let this chance slip away?

Biting her lip, she mentally mapped the restaurant's layout. If she screamed now, would anyone dare intervene against a Caldwell in Cresthaven?

The weight of his influence pressed down on her. Even if someone heard—

The guard's shadow loomed under the doorframe. No exits. No allies.

Her fingers trembled as they hovered near the emergency call button on her smartwatch. One press would alert Alexander's security team.

But would they reach her before Ethan's men did?

A toilet flushed in the adjacent stall.

Evelyn froze.

She wasn't alone after all.

The moment they stepped into the upscale restaurant, the maître d' rushed forward with a practiced smile.

"Mr. Whitmore, your usual table is ready," he said, bowing slightly.

Evelyn's stomach twisted.

This was Alexander's territory.

Every staff member here knew him by name. The polished marble floors, the crystal chandeliers—even the air smelled like his influence.

How could she possibly find help in this place?

The other diners barely glanced her way, too absorbed in their expensive meals and whispered conversations.

She swallowed hard.

Would any of these strangers dare intervene?

Not when Alexander Whitmore commanded the room with just his presence.

Evelyn clenched her fists under the table.

She needed a miracle.