Chapter 444
The clock ticked loudly in the silent bedroom. Evelyn Carter lay awake, her gaze fixed on the ceiling. Sleep refused to come.
Alexander Whitmore stumbled home well past midnight, the scent of whiskey clinging to him. Hearing the front door close, Evelyn quickly shut her eyes, feigning sleep.
The shower ran briefly before the mattress dipped under his weight. Warm arms encircled her waist, pulling her flush against his chest.
"You're not asleep," Alexander murmured into her hair, his breath warm against her skin.
Evelyn exhaled softly. "Lucas finalized his divorce from Claire today. He needed someone to drink with." His heartbeat steadied her nerves.
She turned slightly, fingers brushing the hollow of his throat. "Alexander...would you come with me tomorrow? For the prenatal check-up?"
The question hung between them. Evelyn wondered if he truly believed her excuses about those damning photos.
Claire's words echoed in her mind—A child is the strongest bond.
Tonight, she would use that bond to mend what was broken.
The drowsiness still clung to her when she sensed his rage.
He stood on the balcony, clad in black silk pajamas, one hand buried in his pocket. Evelyn couldn’t hear who he was speaking to, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable.
From across the room, she could tell the caller wasn’t delivering good news. Alexander’s expression darkened with every word, his jaw tightening.
Who dared speak to him like that?
Just as she was about to call out, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.
"He deserved it."
The call ended abruptly.
Evelyn sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What’s wrong?"
Alexander exhaled sharply.
"Ethan has three broken ribs."
Her breath hitched.
"I did it last night."
Her mind raced.
Had he left their home just to confront Ethan at the hospital?
Her gaze dropped to his hands. "Are you hurt?"
A scoff. "Him? Please."
He tossed his phone onto the bed and stalked into the bathroom without another word.
Evelyn’s fingers curled into the sheets.
If Alexander had gone that far, this wasn’t over.
Not by a long shot.
The ultrasound room was quiet except for the steady beeping of the machine. Evelyn lay on the examination table, her fingers lightly tracing the curve of her belly. Alexander stood beside her, his phone buzzing insistently in his pocket.
Halfway through the scan, it rang again.
The voice on the other end was unmistakably Vincent, sharp with accusation.
"He’s still your nephew, Alexander! Blood ties mean nothing to you? If anything happens to Ethan because of you, I swear I’ll make you pay—even if it costs me everything!"
Alexander’s lips curled into a cold smirk. "Still running to Father when you can’t handle things yourself? Pathetic."
He didn’t wait for a response, ending the call with a tap of his finger.
Evelyn’s voice was soft. "Should we check on him?"
Alexander shook his head. "He’ll live."
Three broken ribs—that was mercy. Ethan had earned far worse for what he’d done.
Once the scan was complete, Evelyn took the reports to the doctor. The woman studied the images, then frowned slightly.
"The baby’s measurements are about two weeks behind." She pointed to a small shadow on the screen. "Are you certain about the conception date?"
Evelyn nodded. "Positive."
"That's unusual." Alexander's brow furrowed as he studied the report again. "The measurements indicate it's two weeks smaller than expected."
His fingers tapped lightly against the edge of the desk, a habit he had when deep in thought.
Evelyn bit her lip, her hands instinctively resting on her stomach. "Is something wrong?"
Alexander shook his head, though his expression remained thoughtful. "Not necessarily. It could simply be because you're underweight. Your body needs more nutrients to support the baby's growth."
He reached across the desk, his warm fingers brushing against hers. "We'll adjust your diet. More protein, more healthy fats. Let's see if we can close that gap in the next few weeks."
Evelyn exhaled slowly, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "I'll eat whatever you recommend."
A small smile tugged at Alexander's lips. "Good. Because I'm putting Simon on grocery duty. He'll make sure our kitchen is stocked with everything you need."
The image of Simon Graves, Alexander's usually stern assistant, pushing a cart through the organic produce section almost made her laugh. Almost.
Because beneath the momentary relief, a quiet worry still lingered.
Two weeks.
What if it wasn't just about her weight?