Chapter 439

Evelyn shook her head, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her sweater. "I barely left my room the whole time. The only moments I saw Ethan were during meals."

She knew exactly what Alexander was worried about.

Men were all the same when it came to these things.

Her voice was steady, determined. "During those weeks, Ethan and I never crossed any lines. I would never betray you."

Tears shimmered in her eyes, threatening to spill over.

Alexander pulled her into his arms before they could fall.

"Evelyn, I'm the one who should apologize. It's not that I don't trust you. It's just—"

"I know."

She couldn't bring herself to blame him.

If their roles were reversed, if he had spent weeks alone with another woman, she would have been consumed by jealousy.

The fact that he was trying to stay composed meant everything.

"I'll make you dinner." Alexander released her and strode out of the bedroom, his broad shoulders tense.

Evelyn exhaled slowly as the door clicked shut behind him.

His expression had been stormy.

He was still upset.

And she had no idea how to fix it.

Alexander Whitmore was chopping vegetables in the kitchen when his phone buzzed.

An unknown number had sent him a photo.

His fingers hovered over the screen before he tapped to open it.

Instantly, his blood boiled.

The image showed Evelyn Carter and Ethan Caldwell stepping out of a car together, hands clasped, in front of a concert hall.

His grip tightened around his phone until his knuckles turned white.

They were holding hands.

Before he could process it, another message arrived.

Another photo.

This time, inside the concert hall.

Evelyn was nestled against Ethan’s chest, bathed in soft backlighting.

They looked perfect together.

Too perfect.

Alexander’s jaw clenched, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury.

Then—a third notification.

His stomach dropped.

This one was worse.

Much worse.

Evelyn lay asleep in a dimly lit room, the edge of Ethan’s pajama sleeve visible beside her.

Alexander prided himself on his self-control.

But right now?

He wanted to rip Ethan apart with his bare hands.

With a snarl, he hurled his phone against the floor.

It shattered.

Just like his restraint.

Without another thought, he stormed out of the house.

The door slammed shut with such force that the walls trembled.

Moments later, the roar of an engine cut through the silence.

Evelyn rushed to the window just in time to see Alexander's car peeling out of the driveway.

Tires screeched.

Gravel flew.

Then he was gone.

She called his name twice, her voice swallowed by the night.

Her stomach twisted.

Hadn't he promised to cook dinner?

What had just happened?

Frowning, Evelyn descended the stairs.

That's when she saw it—his phone, shattered beyond recognition on the marble floor.

Her fingers trembled as she picked up the pieces.

The screen was obliterated.

The casing split apart.

Something was very wrong.

In all their years together, she'd never seen Alexander lose control like this.

Even from a distance, his rage had been palpable—a storm rolling off him in waves.

What had set him off?

Was it... because of her?

Without another thought, Evelyn grabbed her keys.

But Alexander wasn't headed home.

His taillights disappeared in the direction of the hospital.

The door crashed open with a violent bang, jolting Ethan Caldwell awake from his uneasy slumber.

Before he could even blink the grogginess from his eyes, Alexander Whitmore's furious grip seized him by the collar, yanking him forward.

A sharp pain exploded across Ethan's face as Alexander's fist connected with his jaw.

Fresh from surgery, Ethan's chest still ached from the lingering trauma, leaving him too weak to defend himself.

Blood gushed from his nose, staining his hospital gown crimson, dripping like a relentless waterfall down his chin.

Alexander didn't stop there.

Another brutal punch landed squarely on Ethan's mouth, splitting his lip and sending him reeling back against the pillows.

His vision blurred, his body trembling from the assault.

Ethan barely had time to register the metallic taste of blood before Alexander loomed over him again, his expression dark with unchecked fury.

The room spun.

Ethan's fingers weakly grasped at the sheets, his breath ragged.

He had no strength left to fight back.

Not like this.

Not when Alexander was a storm of vengeance, and he was nothing but a broken man in a hospital bed.

The door behind them creaked slightly, unnoticed in the chaos.

A shadow lingered just beyond the threshold—someone watching.

Someone who had orchestrated this moment.

And as Alexander raised his fist once more, Ethan realized with chilling clarity—this was far from over.