Chapter 487

Evelyn had married Alexander in the beginning simply for stability.

His dependable nature and considerate gestures made her feel secure, even blessed.

In this chaotic world, someone had left a light on just for her.

She dreamed of building a life with Alexander, and soon enough, she was carrying their child.

But then Isabella returned—Alexander’s first love—and suddenly, his focus was split.

Should she step aside for Isabella?

Evelyn’s lashes fluttered downward.

Perhaps she had been wrong to anchor all her happiness in one person.

Alexander could be an important part of her life, but not her entire world. If she made him her everything, his absence would shatter her.

She needed her own ambitions, her own growth.

Love? Even without it, she could still thrive.

The realization lifted the weight off her shoulders.

A woman who waited for a man’s love was a woman who had already lost.

Evelyn inhaled the crisp night air before turning away from the balcony's edge.

A figure materialized beside her, offering a folded garment with practiced efficiency. "Ms. Carter, the evening chill is setting in. You'll need this."

The security detail—identifiable by his tailored black suit and discreet earpiece—maintained professional distance. When Evelyn's gaze flickered with suspicion, he added smoothly, "Standard provision for all guests. No obligations attached."

She accepted the cashmere wrap with murmured thanks, impressed by the Whitmore estate's meticulous hospitality. Who'd have expected Dominic Powell's event team to anticipate every female guest's comfort down to the evening temperature drop?

Then came the surprise.

A velvet-clad box materialized in the guard's gloved palm. "Compliments of the host."

Evelyn's fingers hesitated mid-air. "Party favors already?"

The guard's lips twitched. "Consider it... a preview."

The weight of the box told its own story—no mere trinket, but something substantial. Evelyn traced the embossed silver crest, mind racing through possible contents. The Whitmores' legendary generosity wasn't exaggerated, it seemed.

Around them, laughter and clinking glasses formed a sparkling backdrop to this curious interlude. Somewhere beyond the terrace lights, the real game was beginning.

"Thank you."

Evelyn accepted the small velvet box with a polite smile. As the bodyguard retreated, her fingers trembled slightly with anticipation. She flipped open the lid—

And gasped.

Inside lay an immaculate set of acupuncture needles, each one gleaming under the ballroom lights. Gold and silver tips shimmered, arranged meticulously by size and purpose. It was a complete professional kit, the kind only a trained practitioner would recognize.

Her pulse quickened.

This wasn’t just thoughtful—it was personal.

Too personal.

A frown creased her brow. Who at this gala would know about her medical training? Her gaze darted across the room, scanning the crowd. Other guests held champagne flutes, clutch purses—not a single one carried a gift box.

Realization struck like lightning.

She whirled around, heels clicking sharply against marble as she chased after the retreating bodyguard.

"Wait!" Her voice cut through the murmur of the crowd. "Who sent this?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implication. Someone knew her secrets. Someone had been watching.

And that sent a chill down her spine.

The bodyguard paused, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "It's Mr. Dominic Powell."

Dominic?

Evelyn's lashes fluttered in confusion. Dominic Powell—the man whose birthday celebration was happening tonight?

She was certain they had never met.

The air between them grew thick with unspoken questions. Evelyn tilted her head slightly, studying the bodyguard's tense expression.

Why would a stranger send guards after her?

Her fingers tightened around her clutch as unease prickled along her spine.

Across the room, laughter and clinking glasses filled the space, a stark contrast to the sudden tension coiling in her chest.

She needed answers. Now.

But before she could demand them, the bodyguard stepped aside, revealing a shadowed figure at the end of the hall.

Tall. Broad-shouldered. Watching her with an intensity that made her breath catch.

Dominic Powell.

And he was walking straight toward her.