Chapter 416

Evelyn's decision was final, leaving Ethan Caldwell without even a sliver of hope.

For reasons he couldn't explain, his thoughts wandered back to their school days.

It was their senior year—both eighteen, standing at the precipice of adulthood during their graduation ceremony.

Their school had a long-standing tradition: a masquerade ball to celebrate commencement.

Back then, Ethan hadn’t been in that fateful car accident. He hadn’t mistaken Vanessa Hart for Evelyn yet.

On the night of graduation, Ethan arrived at the masquerade in a perfectly tailored tuxedo.

Even with her face half-hidden behind an ornate mask, he recognized Evelyn immediately amidst the crowd of girls in shimmering cocktail dresses.

He moved toward her with effortless confidence, extending his hand like a prince from a fairy tale.

When Evelyn placed her fingers in his, accepting his invitation to dance, Ethan felt invincible.

That night, he was certain—he was the most fortunate man in the room.

In his mind, he could already see her walking toward him in white, a vision of grace and beauty, promising forever.

It felt like mere moments had passed since everything unfolded.

Yet Ethan Caldwell couldn't comprehend how someone who had once adored him so fiercely could now feel nothing at all.

A crushing weight settled in his chest. Despite their years together, he still couldn't measure up to Alexander Whitmore, who had entered Evelyn Carter's life only months ago.

Only now did he truly grasp the depth of Evelyn's resistance.

Even after keeping her confined for weeks, spending nearly every waking moment by her side—

He had tried everything. Learned to cook for her. Bent over backward to make her happy.

None of it had mattered.

Evelyn spotted Alexander’s sleek black car parked outside Hawthorne Estate.

He had to still be nearby.

Done wasting time with Ethan, she pulled away and strode deeper into the neighborhood without a backward glance.

Ethan watched her retreating figure, his vision blurring with raw anguish.

His first instinct was to follow—

But then a shadow darted from the side, startling him.

Zachary Black.

Ethan barely had time to react before the man was in his face, eyes gleaming with something dangerous.

The air between them crackled with tension.

Ethan’s pulse spiked.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Zachary Black's face was a canvas of fresh bruises—undeniable evidence of Alexander Whitmore's brutal efficiency.

Ethan Caldwell had only heard stories about Alexander's decade-plus training at the police academy and his unmatched reflexes, but witnessing the aftermath firsthand was something else entirely.

Clearly, Zachary's attempt to ambush Alexander had spectacularly backfired, leaving him battered and barely standing, freshly discarded like trash from Alexander's grip.

Zachary's face was a grotesque mosaic of swelling and cuts, blood seeping from his split lip.

He coughed violently, spitting out a mouthful of crimson. "Mr. Caldwell, that woman who just ran past you—that's Alexander's wife, isn't it?"

Ethan's expression darkened as he demanded coldly, "What are you scheming?"

"I was thinking of using her to get to Alexander," Zachary replied, his tongue probing the inside of his swollen cheek.

A vicious smirk twisted his lips. "You probably don’t know about the blood debt between your uncle and me. I’m here to collect."

It was obvious Zachary stood no chance against Alexander in a direct fight. A head-on clash would only end in his defeat, so he had shifted his focus to Evelyn Carter instead.

Ethan’s refusal was immediate, his voice steel. "As long as I’m here, you won’t lay a finger on her."

Zachary Black let out a low, mocking chuckle. His dark eyes glittered with cruel amusement as he leaned against the cracked brick wall.

"Well, well," he drawled, dragging out each word like a knife across skin. "The mighty Alexander Whitmore has a weakness after all."

The scent of damp concrete and stale cigarettes hung heavy in the abandoned warehouse. Somewhere in the distance, a pipe dripped steadily like a ticking clock.

"But isn't your precious Evelyn already married to you?" Zachary's smirk widened, revealing slightly crooked teeth. "I heard every pathetic word between you two. That woman's heart isn't yours to claim."

He pushed off the wall, his boots scraping against the concrete floor. The single bare bulb overhead cast jagged shadows across his sharp features.

"Tell me, Whitmore," Zachary's voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "Is some used-up wife really worth risking everything for?"

A muscle twitched in Alexander's jaw. The ropes binding his wrists bit deeper into flesh as he strained against them.

Outside, thunder rumbled in the distance. The storm was coming.

Zachary's laughter echoed through the empty space, bouncing off rusted metal beams. "Look at you. Kingsdom's golden boy, trussed up like Christmas dinner."

He pulled a switchblade from his pocket. The click of it opening was obscenely loud in the tense silence.

"Let's see how much your beloved Evelyn is really worth to you, shall we?"

The first drop of rain hit the corrugated metal roof with a sound like gunshot.

Somewhere in the city, Evelyn Carter froze mid-step, her chest suddenly tight with inexplicable dread.