Chapter 699

Talk of the wolf and he's at the door. Yet Alexander's sudden appearance didn't bring Evelyn the comfort she expected. He'd been absent during the horrific accident yesterday. Missing when they wheeled her into emergency surgery. Still nowhere to be found when she woke this morning, disoriented and alone. On what should have been their most important day, Alexander had vanished.

She'd imagined telling him everything - the paralyzing fear when metal screeched against metal, Dominic's body shielding hers from the crushing impact, the terror beneath her calm facade as surgeons fought to save their unborn child.

As her husband and the father of her baby, surely he'd understand. But now, with the moment passed and Alexander finally here, the words turned to ash in her mouth.

Perhaps she was overreacting. The injuries weren't life-threatening. Not like Isabella, who'd lost an organ.

Claire had insisted her feelings were valid. Wanting her husband's support wasn't unreasonable. Surviving relatively unharmed was sheer luck, not something to diminish her trauma. Evelyn knew Claire was right.

Alexander stood silhouetted in the doorway, his broad shoulders blocking the fluorescent hallway lights. Streetlamps cast angular shadows across his unshaven jaw. His chest rose and fell rapidly - he'd clearly run here.

Dried blood streaked his rolled-up sleeves. His usually immaculate suit was wrinkled and stained. Red veins webbed through his exhausted eyes. The normally polished Alexander Whitmore looked like he'd been through war.

Their eyes met briefly before Evelyn turned away, retreating toward the hospital bed. She reached to slam the door behind her, but Alexander caught it effortlessly.

"Evelyn," he rasped.

She pushed with all her strength, but against his muscular frame, it was futile. Fine. Not worth the energy.

She turned toward the bed, only for Alexander to suddenly sweep her into his arms. "Alexander!" she gasped.

His voice was gravel. "You should be resting. Just because I wasn't here doesn't mean you stop caring for yourself." His grip tightened. "You're still recovering."

"What's it to you?" she snapped. "Go back to Isabella. Why bother coming at all?"

Alexander adjusted his hold, his expression unreadable. "Stop struggling. You'll tear your stitches." He laid her gently on the crisp sheets. Exhaustion weighed on Evelyn - whether from trauma or postpartum fatigue, her body ached relentlessly.

After tucking the blanket around her, Alexander perched on the bed's edge. "Isabella's stable now. I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner."

Evelyn almost asked if Isabella would survive. Then caught herself - why show concern for someone who'd repeatedly hurt her?

Silence thickened between them. Alexander rose, poured water into a plastic cup. "Thirsty?"

Evelyn turned her face away.

When she refused, Alexander drained the cup himself. She watched his throat work, brow furrowing. Had he been so busy he hadn't drunk anything all day?

Even exhausted, Alexander moved with innate elegance. Some people were born with it. His pallor concerned her - had he been injured fighting off their attackers? She pressed her lips together and shut her eyes.

"Tired?" Alexander smoothed her blanket, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. "Rest if you need to. We'll talk tomorrow."

The room fell silent. Evelyn wasn't sleepy, but kept her eyes closed. She felt Alexander's gaze lingering, watching her with unsettling intensity.

To avoid disturbing her, he killed the lights. Moonlight spilled through the blinds, painting silver stripes across the bed.

Alexander sat vigil for long minutes before gently taking her hand. Had Evelyn looked, she'd have seen the raw emotion in his dark eyes.

A rustle at the door. "Mr. Whitmore?" Simon whispered.

Alexander released her hand. "What is it?"

"Got what you requested." Simon held up a takeout bag.

Alexander accepted it, glancing back at Evelyn - who was now watching him with open eyes. "Did I wake you?" he asked, reentering. "Or were you pretending?"

Evelyn thought, I'm too furious to sleep.

"Hungry?" Alexander lifted the bag. Even in darkness, she could see his outline.

"Not really," Evelyn muttered.

Alexander saw through her instantly. "I'm starving," he declared. "Humor me."

He knew Evelyn needed five small meals daily for recovery.

She'd sent Giselle away earlier - normally compliant, today she'd been stubborn. Angry. Determined not to owe Alexander anything.

But he wouldn't let her go hungry. With that, he disappeared into the suite's kitchenette. VIP rooms came fully equipped.

Evelyn propped herself up. "Is this your apology?" she asked softly.

Alexander's reply came between the sounds of running water. "No. This is my responsibility. What I should have done from the beginning."