Chapter 45

Evelyn swiftly pushed aside the absurd idea that had just surfaced in her mind.

Claire's enthusiasm was contagious as she steered their conversation in a new direction.

"But seriously, Alexander is quite the prize!"

"Just imagine! Once you and Alexander are married, you'll officially become Ethan's aunt! Could there be a more perfect revenge?"

"Picture this—every family gathering, you and Ethan crossing paths at the Whitmore estate. Ethan and Vanessa would have no choice but to toast to you, addressing you as 'Aunt Evelyn.' The irony would be absolutely delicious."

"Vanessa, who's spent years scheming to marry into the Whitmore family, would be left seething in the background. Can you even fathom how furious she'd be?"

Claire laughed, clearly relishing the mental image.

"And here's the best part—Alexander isn't just some ordinary guy. He's the CEO of Titan Capital Group! You have no idea—"

The numbers spoke for themselves.

Nearly half of Titan Capital Group's revenue came from Alexander Whitmore's personal investments.

Countless corporations depended on his financial backing to stay operational.

"Just imagine your father's reaction," Claire said excitedly, her eyes sparkling. "When Richard Hayes finds out you're marrying Alexander Whitmore, he'll practically crown you heir apparent overnight! A single deal from Alexander could fund Horizon Enterprises for an entire fiscal year."

Claire was unstoppable, her words tumbling out in an enthusiastic rush.

Evelyn, however, was laser-focused on the implications.

Her mind raced. Alexander is my golden ticket. If I secure this marriage, no one will dare challenge me again.

Whether Alexander's proposal stemmed from gratitude or some other motive didn't matter. Right now, he represented safety, power, and unshakable security.

Then Claire dropped the question that shattered Evelyn's composure.

"So... did you two... you know... last night?"

Evelyn's fingers twitched. Heat flooded her cheeks.

After a weighted pause, she shook her head. "No. We didn't."

The unspoken tension hung thick between them.

Claire's eyebrows shot up. "Seriously? Not even a kiss?"

Evelyn's grip tightened around her coffee cup. "It's... complicated."

Complicated didn't begin to cover it.

Alexander Whitmore might be her fiancé on paper, but the distance between them felt insurmountable.

And Evelyn had no idea how to bridge it.

Claire arched a perfectly sculpted brow. "You mean you slept in the same bed and nothing happened?"

Evelyn's fingers tightened around her purse strap as she recalled the previous night. "Not... exactly."

"Wait—hold on." Claire's grip on the steering wheel slackened in shock. "You shared a bed, and Alexander didn't even try anything?"

Her excitement got the better of her, and she accidentally slammed her palm against the horn, sending a sharp blast through the quiet hospital parking lot.

They had just pulled into the underground garage, the dim fluorescent lights casting long shadows as Claire expertly navigated the tight spaces.

"Damn." Claire exhaled sharply, her expression shifting from disbelief to something more calculating. "He really married you out of obligation."

A thought flickered through her mind: At first, I thought Alexander might have been drawn to Evelyn's beauty—enough to risk becoming Cresthaven's biggest joke by tying himself to her. Because let's face it, Evelyn is stunning.

But now? Sharing a bed without so much as a glance?

Either Alexander has zero interest in women... or he has zero interest in Evelyn specifically.

This changes everything.

The sterile white walls of the private hospital room seemed to amplify Ethan Caldwell's exhaustion.

Propped against the pillows, his usually immaculate appearance was replaced by a weary shadow of himself. The stitches along his forearm ached dully, a stark reminder of the previous night's chaos.

Dark circles bruised beneath his eyes, evidence of a sleepless night spent replaying every misstep. His right arm, wrapped tightly in bandages, rested stiffly at his side.

With a frustrated sigh, he dug into his pocket, only to toss an empty cigarette case onto the bedside table with a clatter.

Trevor Moss, who hadn’t left his side since the incident, wordlessly produced a fresh cigarette from his own jacket.

He had been the one to arrange Ethan’s discreet admission to the hospital, standing vigil through the long hours until dawn.

Ethan’s gaze flickered up, taking in Trevor’s unshaven jaw and rumpled clothes. "Go home," he muttered. "I don’t need a babysitter."

Trevor exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples. "You’d be dead in a ditch if I left you alone right now."

The silence between them was heavy, punctuated only by the distant hum of hospital machinery.

Ethan flexed his injured hand, wincing. "This isn’t over."

Trevor’s expression darkened. "It better be. Unless you’re planning to get yourself killed next time."

A bitter smirk twisted Ethan’s lips. "Wouldn’t that solve everyone’s problems?"

Trevor didn’t answer.

The morning light filtering through the blinds did nothing to soften the tension in the room.

Somewhere beyond these walls, the consequences of last night were still unfolding.

And Ethan Caldwell was far from done.

Nathan flicked open his silver lighter with practiced ease, the flame dancing as he lit Ethan's cigarette.

"Easy does it," Nathan murmured, snapping the lighter shut with a metallic click. "I'll check on you later."

Just as Trevor turned to leave, the door swung open with force.

Alexander strode in, his presence commanding immediate attention. Behind him trailed a small crowd of associates, their polished shoes clicking against the marble floor.

The air shifted instantly—charged, tense.

Ethan exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his gaze locking onto Alexander's. A silent challenge passed between them.

Nathan stepped back, sensing the brewing storm.

Trevor hesitated near the exit, caught between leaving and staying to witness what came next.

The room held its breath.