Chapter 442

The moment Alexander walked out the door, Evelyn immediately dialed Claire. She needed to confide in someone about everything that had transpired recently. "Claire, I need your advice. Alexander just stormed out. Do you think he's really angry? Could this escalate?"

Claire was taken aback by the call. Evelyn had been unreachable for weeks—ever since Ethan had forcibly kept her confined.

She never imagined Ethan would go to such lengths, completely disregarding the repercussions. Now, Evelyn was left to pick up the pieces of the mess he had created.

"Honestly, most men wouldn't handle this well. Alexander is probably questioning what really happened between you two during those twenty days."

After all, Evelyn and Ethan had been isolated together in the same house for over twenty days—not just a brief encounter.

"What do I do?" Evelyn asked, her voice tight with worry.

A simple explanation wouldn't be enough. Even if Alexander wanted to believe her, doubt would linger in the back of his mind.

"I can't fix this for you, but aren't you pregnant? That baby is a bond between you two. Maybe you should show him a little vulnerability."

Unsettled, Evelyn ended the call and decided to prepare dinner for Alexander, hoping the gesture might soften his heart.

The moment Evelyn stepped into the grand ballroom of Whitmore Manor, the air shifted.

Every gaze turned toward her, whispers fluttering like startled birds.

She had expected this.

After all, it wasn’t every day the estranged wife of Alexander Whitmore made an appearance at his family’s exclusive gala.

Her crimson gown clung to her curves, the slit revealing just enough to command attention without crossing into scandal.

Vanessa Hart’s lips curled into a sneer from across the room.

Evelyn ignored her.

She had bigger prey tonight.

Alexander stood near the marble fireplace, his tailored tuxedo accentuating his broad shoulders.

Their eyes met.

A spark of something dangerous flickered in his gaze before he schooled his expression into cool indifference.

Good.

Let him pretend he wasn’t affected.

She took a sip of champagne, the bubbles sharp against her tongue.

Then she saw him.

Ethan Caldwell.

Her ex-fiancé.

The man who had shattered her trust before Alexander had even entered her life.

He was speaking with Nathan Reeves, his ever-loyal shadow.

Evelyn’s grip tightened around her glass.

This was why she had come.

Not for Alexander.

Not for reconciliation.

But for revenge.

She moved through the crowd with deliberate grace, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Ethan hadn’t noticed her yet.

Perfect.

She stopped just behind him, close enough to catch the faint scent of his cologne—something expensive and suffocating.

"Miss me?" she purred.

He stiffened before turning, his smile strained.

"Evelyn. I didn’t expect to see you here."

She tilted her head.

"Didn’t you?"

His gaze flickered toward Alexander, then back to her.

"I heard about the divorce. Shame."

Her laugh was low, venomous.

"Oh, Ethan. You always did have a talent for understatement."

Before he could respond, Alexander’s voice cut through the tension.

"Evelyn."

She turned, meeting his stormy eyes.

"Alexander."

His jaw clenched.

"We need to talk."

She arched a brow.

"Do we?"

Around them, the party continued, oblivious to the war brewing in its midst.

Vanessa’s laughter rang out, sharp and mocking.

Evelyn smiled.

Let them watch.

Let them all see what happened when they underestimated her.

Tonight, the game changed.

And she intended to win.

The living room clock ticked loudly as Evelyn curled on the sofa, her fingers tracing patterns on the velvet cushions. The aroma of roasted chicken and rosemary potatoes lingered in the air, growing colder by the minute.

The front door clicked open at exactly 9:47 PM.

Evelyn bolted upright, her bare feet hitting the icy hardwood before she could think. She barely registered the chill as she rushed toward the foyer.

Alexander stood framed in the doorway, his tailored coat dusted with snowflakes. His jaw was clenched tight enough to crack walnuts. When his stormy gaze dropped to her naked toes, his frown deepened.

"I made your favorite," she blurted, twisting the oversized sleeves of her ivory nightgown. The fabric swallowed her frame whole these days—first from stress-eating after Ethan's betrayal, then from forgetting meals altogether.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he scooped her up effortlessly. "Christ, Evelyn. The thermostat reads fifty degrees." His voice was sandpaper-rough, yet his hands cradled her like spun glass.

Three hours earlier, Alexander had vanished mid-meal prep, leaving a shattered smartphone in the driveway.

Now his wool sweater scratched her cheek as she breathed in his bergamot scent. "Your phone," she whispered against his collarbone. "And you... you just disappeared."

The grandfather clock chimed ten times before he spoke again. "I needed air." His thumb brushed her ankle where the cold had turned her skin blue. "But I should've remembered who waits for me in the cold."

Something wet splashed onto his shoulder. Evelyn didn't realize she was crying until Alexander tilted her chin up, his eyes reflecting the broken pieces of whatever storm he'd weathered alone tonight.

Alexander had been distant all day.

When Evelyn finally saw him at Whitmore Manor, his expression was unreadable. She noticed the way his jaw clenched when she asked about his sudden disappearance.

"I had urgent business to attend to," was all he offered.

He didn't mention the damning photographs that had mysteriously appeared in his inbox. Sensing his reluctance to elaborate, Evelyn chose not to push. Some battles were better fought in silence.

The grandfather clock chimed four times.

"I made dinner," she said instead, guiding him toward the dining room with gentle determination. "Are you hungry?"

The aroma of roasted herbs and red wine reduction filled the air. Evelyn's stomach growled, but she'd waited this long - she could wait until Alexander was ready to eat.

The table was set for two, with candles flickering between them.

"Do you like it?" she asked, watching his face for any reaction. The shadows under his eyes told her more than words ever could.

Outside, dusk painted the sky in bruised purples.

Somewhere between the first course and dessert, the unspoken things between them grew heavier than the silverware. Evelyn counted the seconds between Alexander's measured bites.

The clock ticked louder.

In the dim light, she noticed his left thumb tracing the edge of his water glass - his tell when wrestling with unspeakable truths.

The food grew cold between them.

Neither mentioned the way Alexander's phone buzzed three separate times during the meal, nor how his knuckles whitened around the stem of his wine glass with each vibration.

Evelyn pretended not to see.

Some storms needed to brew in silence before they could be weathered together.

The candles burned lower.

When Alexander finally reached across the table to cover her hand with his, his palm was colder than the untouched chocolate mousse between them.

Evelyn turned her hand upward to intertwine their fingers.

No words.

Just the quiet understanding that whatever came next, they'd face it together - even if neither was ready to name the storm clouds gathering overhead.

The grandfather clock struck six.

Somewhere in the house, a phone rang unanswered.

The mousse remained untouched.