Chapter 502
Evelyn ended the call and silenced her phone.
Gasps erupted around her. When she glanced up,
a spectacular burst of fireworks painted the night sky in vibrant hues.
Biting back tears, Evelyn turned away, her shoulders slumped in defeat.
Then, with trembling fingers, she dialed another number.
"Mr. Herty, I’ve decided to move into the dormitory."
She had reached out to Leonard two days prior.
The renowned cellist had recognized her raw talent immediately.
Leonard believed in nurturing potential. He offered her a place in his elite orchestra program.
But intensive training required full commitment—including residency.
At first, Evelyn hesitated.
Married and expecting, the idea seemed impractical.
Yet Leonard assured her of private accommodations.
His kindness tipped the scales.
Now, resolve hardened in her chest.
Was she punishing Alexander by leaving?
He had always been attentive. Their fights were rare, trivial.
But his broken promises cut deeper each time.
If only he’d fallen for someone else—she could walk away clean.
Instead, his suffocating care left her drowning in confusion.
Distance might clarify things.
"Pack your essentials," Leonard said. "Orientation begins Thursday."
The line went dead. Evelyn wandered the shadowed streets, oblivious.
She never noticed the sleek black Rolls-Royce trailing her for blocks.
Distraction proved costly.
At the crosswalk, she stepped off the curb as the light flashed red.
Tires screeched. A cherry-red Ferrari hurtled toward her.
Inside the Rolls, Dominic’s knuckles whitened on the armrest.
His driver reacted instantly, swerving to intercept.
Metal screamed as the Ferrari T-boned them. Airbags deployed with a muffled whump.
The Ferrari’s door flew open. "You blind moron!" spat its owner, a speed-junkie in designer leather. "That’s a half-million-dollar—"
Dominic lowered his window just enough to reveal a razor-sharp jawline.
He didn’t bother looking at the man.
"Open this damn door!" The racer grabbed the handle.
A glacial aura seeped from the Rolls.
Dominic’s bodyguard emerged, seizing the man’s collar.
"Know whose car you just hit? Mr. Powell’s."
Color drained from the racer’s face. "D-Dominic Powell?"
His bravado shattered. "Sir, I—I’ll pay for everything! Just—"
A sharp gesture silenced him. The bodyguard dragged him aside.
Evelyn finally registered the near-miss.
That Ferrari would’ve killed her. The Rolls had taken the hit deliberately.
Her gaze lifted to the tinted windows.
Dominic?