Chapter 696

Evelyn's heart ached from Richard's harsh words. Without another glance at him or Vanessa, she turned on her heel and strode out of the hospital room.

Vanessa bit her tongue, afraid any further remarks would turn Evelyn's resentment toward her as well. Instead, she redirected her anger at Richard.

"What were you thinking? Evelyn just survived a car crash and gave birth! She's done more for the Whitmore family than anyone! If Alexander isn’t here, that’s his fault—not hers! How could you blame her?" Margaret scolded, her voice sharp with frustration.

She feared the fragile peace they had recently established with Evelyn might shatter because of Richard's careless words.

Richard didn’t dare argue.

Under Margaret’s furious glare, he lowered his head in silent admission.

"I just wanted her to maintain a good relationship with Alexander. Let’s be honest—marrying into the Whitmore family is a huge advantage for us," Richard muttered defensively.

"Advantage?" Margaret scoffed. "Marriage isn’t a business transaction! You can’t treat our daughter like some bargaining chip. Would you have said the same if this were Vanessa?"

Richard fell silent.

Margaret jabbed a finger at his chest. "You’re unbelievable! Evelyn has suffered enough, and as her father, you should be supporting her, not tearing her down!"

Guilt twisted in Margaret’s chest as she thought of everything Evelyn had endured.

Richard didn’t want to hear more but held his tongue.

Instead, he changed the subject. "Something’s wrong between her and Alexander. Did you see how she reacted when I mentioned him? Do you think their marriage is falling apart?"

Margaret shot him a withering glare. "She just gave birth, and her husband is nowhere to be found. Of course she’s upset! Alexander is the one who should be ashamed!"

Just then, Richard’s phone buzzed.

Vanessa.

"Vanessa? What’s wrong? Alright, we’re already at the hospital. We’ll be right there," Richard said quickly before hanging up.

He grabbed Margaret’s arm, pulling her along.

"What now?" Margaret demanded.

"Vanessa’s in terrible pain. The fall last night dislocated her pelvis. The doctors say they can treat her, but she’d have to terminate the pregnancy. If she wants to keep the baby, she’ll have to endure it," Richard explained.

Margaret’s frown deepened. "And what exactly can we do about that?"

"Eleanor won’t allow an early delivery—says it’s too risky for the baby. Vanessa’s begging us to intervene," Richard replied.

Vanessa was suffering, but she wasn’t even eight months along. Eleanor refused to risk the baby’s life by inducing labor prematurely.

To protect the child, the doctors had also withheld strong painkillers.

"We’re her parents. Who else can she turn to?" Richard pressed.

Margaret’s expression turned icy.

"Oh, now we’re her parents? Richard, your hypocrisy is astounding. You’ve never shown this much concern for Evelyn! She’s been through hell, and you’ve never once stood up for her. Unbelievable!"

Evelyn stepped into Dominic’s hospital room. Unpacking her acupuncture kit, she asked, "Any changes while I was gone?"

Nathaniel shook his head. "Nothing. He hasn’t moved at all."

Evelyn nodded. "Help me remove his shirt."

Nathaniel quickly unbuttoned Dominic’s hospital gown, knowing what came next.

But as Evelyn approached, she froze.

Dominic’s torso was a map of scars.

Some were old, faded into pale lines against his skin. Others were fresh, angry red wounds still healing.

She inhaled sharply. She hadn’t expected his body to carry so much damage.

Nathaniel sighed. "Mr. Powell’s had a rough few years. Most of these scars are from enemies seeking revenge for his family’s business."

Evelyn pressed her lips together. "Couldn’t he just walk away?"

The Powell family’s dealings were murky. Though they’d gone legitimate years ago, their past still clung to them.

Nathaniel hesitated. "Mrs. Whitmore… the Powell family’s affairs are complicated. You’ll understand in time. Mr. Powell doesn’t have much choice."

Evelyn didn’t push further.

She stepped closer and began the treatment, her hands steady.

Nathaniel watched nervously, eyeing Dominic’s condition.

Worried Evelyn might still be weak from childbirth, he suggested she sit.

Half an hour later, she finished.

But despite the session, Dominic remained still.

Nathaniel paled, his eyes reddening. "Mrs. Whitmore… do you think he might not wake up?"

Evelyn frowned. "This is supplemental treatment. It may take multiple sessions."

Just then, Dominic’s lashes fluttered.

"Mr. Powell!" Nathaniel gasped, unsure if he imagined it.

Then Dominic’s fingers twitched.

Nathaniel nearly sobbed in relief. "You scared me half to death! I thought you’d never wake up!"

Dominic’s eyes opened.

His face was pale, his usually sharp gaze unfocused. The injuries had taken their toll.

Relief washed over Evelyn.

She held up two fingers. "Dominic, how many fingers am I holding up?"

"One," he rasped.

Her stomach dropped.

She tried again, raising five fingers. "Now?"

"Nine," he answered.

Her heart sank further.

She reached for his wrist, checking his pulse.

This doesn’t make sense. His injuries were internal. His vision shouldn’t be affected.

Did the crash damage his eyes? His brain?

Just as her fingers brushed his skin, Dominic suddenly grabbed her hand.

Startled, she glared. "Don’t joke around. Your condition is serious—"

His voice was rough but teasing. "I can see fine. Just messing with you."

He cut her off, his grip tightening slightly. "Sit. Stay with me."

Evelyn hesitated. "You’re sure you’re not brain-damaged?"

Dominic’s gaze sharpened, a smirk playing on his lips. "You’re worried about me."

She scowled. "Of course I am. You got hurt because of—"

Her eyes dropped to his wrist. "Let go. I need to examine you."

Their eyes locked. Dominic grinned. "If you wanted to hold my hand, you could’ve just asked. Did saving you make me irresistible?"

Evelyn stared, speechless.

Even half-dead, he had the energy to tease.

His hospital gown hung loosely, exposing his collarbones. He looked fragile, yet his smirk was as infuriating as ever.

His gaze lingered on her face. "You tried so hard to push me away, and now here you are, fussing over me. Tell me—if I never woke up, would you have regretted it? Cried for me?"

She rolled her eyes. "You’ve got quite the imagination."

"Of course," Dominic chuckled, voice low. "I’ve imagined plenty with you."