Chapter 70

The weekend arrived, and Evelyn slept in until noon.

Sunlight streamed through the curtains as she finally stirred awake.

Her phone buzzed with a notification—a message from Alexander sent late last night.

[Mrs. Whitmore, you should have told me you were home.]

The timestamp read midnight, right when she had been drifting off.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, ready to reply, but then she remembered the time difference in Ostraoland.

Dawn would just be breaking there.

Unsure if he was awake yet, she hesitated. The last thing she wanted was to disturb him.

Before she could decide, her phone rang.

Claire’s name flashed on the screen.

"Meet me for drinks," Claire demanded, her voice rough.

Evelyn frowned. "You’re pregnant. No alcohol. Did you tell Lucas?"

A bitter laugh crackled through the line. "He’s dead. Who am I supposed to confess to now?"

Claire’s words dripped with venom, followed by a string of curses.

Evelyn’s grip tightened on her phone.

Something was very wrong.

Lucas Bennett was a complete bastard.

He'd slept with Claire and vanished without a trace, leaving her unable to reach him ever since.

Evelyn Carter frowned, sensing Claire's dark mood, and immediately arranged to meet her.

They chose Maple Leaf Café, where Claire ordered two bottles of red wine.

Just as she poured a glass, Evelyn snatched it away and replaced it with sparkling water.

"I'm not planning on kids, so what's the harm in a drink?" Claire muttered, but in the end, she didn’t touch the alcohol.

Evelyn sighed. "Give me Lucas’s number. I’ll call him myself."

"Pointless," Claire said with a bitter laugh. "He changed it. He won’t sign the divorce papers, and now he’s disappeared. What kind of game is he playing? Does he get off on making me wait?"

Evelyn shook her head—she had no answers.

If she truly understood men, she wouldn’t have wasted seven years of her life on Ethan Caldwell.

Looking back now, those years felt like—

Evelyn wanted to slap herself.

"I've decided," Claire said, swirling the ice in her glass. "I'll give him one more month. If I still can't reach Lucas by then, I'll book the appointment."

A month-old pregnancy was still early enough. The procedure wouldn’t take much of a toll on her body.

This was Claire’s ultimatum—for Lucas, and for herself.

Thirty days. Enough time to untangle her emotions and close this chapter for good.

The bottle of wine sat open between them, but Evelyn had lost her appetite for it.

Not wanting to waste good alcohol, Vanessa ended up drinking two glasses instead.

Midway through dinner, the alcohol hit Vanessa harder than expected. She excused herself to step outside for air.

As she passed a private room, movement caught her eye.

The door was slightly ajar. A waiter slipped in with a tray, the smoky haze inside parting just enough for Vanessa to catch a glimpse of a familiar figure lounging on the sofa.

She hesitated, then leaned closer for a better look.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. Without another thought, she pushed the door open and strode inside.

The door burst open with a sharp crack, drawing every eye in the room toward her.

Lucas Bennett lounged on the plush sofa, a deck of cards fanned carelessly in one hand, a cigarette perched between his lips. His eyebrows shot up when Evelyn Carter stormed in, her presence like a sudden storm disrupting the calm.

With a lazy flick of his wrist, he tossed his cards onto the table. His gaze slid past Evelyn, searching for the one person he expected to follow her—Alexander Whitmore. But then he remembered. Their marriage was still a secret.

Evelyn’s attention zeroed in on the woman beside Lucas.

She was quiet, unassuming, dressed in simple clothes that didn’t demand attention. Not as striking as Claire Dawson, but there was something about her eyes—something eerily familiar.

A memory flashed in Evelyn’s mind.

"Lucas always has a true love."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

So this is her?

That’s why he agreed to marry Claire so easily—because she was just a stand-in?

What a bastard.

The realization settled like ice in her chest.

The moment Evelyn stepped into the private lounge, whispers erupted.

With so many scandalous rumors swirling around her, it was impossible for the elite crowd not to gossip when she appeared in person.

The social circle was tight-knit, and those who could share a private space with Lucas Bennett were all from influential families. Their curiosity burned—what was Evelyn Carter doing here?

Evelyn locked eyes with Lucas, her voice sharp. "Do you realize Claire has been searching for you?"

Beside Lucas, the woman clinging to his arm stiffened, her fingers tightening around his sleeve.

Lucas pulled his arm free and lounged deeper into the plush sofa. "I'm aware."

"Then why are you avoiding her?" Evelyn demanded.

She wasn’t one to meddle in other people’s affairs.

But Claire was her closest friend, and seeing her heartbroken while Lucas entertained another woman in a VIP room was too much to ignore.

Too many prying eyes surrounded them. Some conversations weren’t meant for an audience.

Evelyn shot Lucas a pointed look and turned toward the door, expecting him to follow.

The hallway was dimly lit as Evelyn confronted Lucas directly. "If you don't love Claire, just set her free. She's already prepared the divorce papers. Why drag this out?"

Lucas flicked open his lighter, the flame casting shadows across his sharp features. He took a slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling a cloud of smoke. "Women never truly understand how men think."

Evelyn clenched her fists. Why did men always speak in riddles instead of just saying what they meant?

"Stop being cryptic. Do you even know that Claire is—"

"Lucas."

Before she could finish, the woman from earlier reappeared, her heels clicking against the marble floor as she approached them.

The interruption made Evelyn's blood boil. She had been so close to revealing the truth—the one thing that might finally make Lucas see reason.

But now, with this woman hovering nearby, the moment was lost.

Evelyn shot Lucas a glare. "You're making a mistake."

He merely smirked, tapping ash into a nearby tray. "Or maybe you just don't know men as well as you think."

The tension between them crackled like static.

Evelyn turned on her heel, frustration burning in her chest. If Lucas wanted to play games, fine. But Claire deserved better.

And she would make sure her best friend got it—no matter what.