Chapter 701
Evelyn's words struck Alexander like a thunderbolt.
She appeared composed, her face as serene as ever. But beneath that calm exterior, he detected a flicker of pain—subtle, yet undeniable. The moment her voice wavered, his chest tightened, as if an invisible fist had seized his heart.
Evelyn wasn’t one to wear her emotions openly. For her to speak so much at once, to make such a drastic decision—it meant she had reached her limit. And Alexander knew it. That knowledge made the guilt unbearable.
He couldn’t expect her to keep enduring his neglect. Not after everything.
They were trapped in an impossible situation. If Isabella had truly been his sister, things might have been simpler. Evelyn might not have cared so deeply. But she wasn’t.
Alexander despised himself for failing Evelyn when she needed him most. If only he could turn back time, he would have stayed by her side, shielding her from everything. He had been one step too late.
What Dominic had done for her, he could have done too. But that single step—that tiny delay—had widened the chasm between them.
Isabella needed saving. That was his duty, his way of honoring Andrew, his closest friend.
Even without Andrew, Alexander couldn’t have abandoned her. It wasn’t about her being a woman, or who she was. If it had been anyone else, he would have acted the same. It just happened to be Isabella this time.
When he took his oath as an officer, he swore to protect. That was his responsibility—to answer the call, no matter what. Isabella wasn’t special to him. Not in the way Evelyn believed.
In his eyes, Isabella and Evelyn weren’t rivals. There was no competition, no choice between them.
How did things spiral this far?
The room was silent. Alexander’s gaze locked with Evelyn’s, but an invisible gulf stretched between them—vast, unbridgeable.
His eyes flicked to the black card in her hand before he looked away. "I gave it to you. It’s yours. Keep it."
Frustration coiled in his chest. He reached for his cigarettes, then stopped. Evelyn had just given birth. They were in a hospital. His hand fell back to his side.
His eyes were bloodshot, exhaustion etched into every line of his face. The once-confident Alexander now looked weary, burdened.
It felt like he had let the woman he cherished slip through his fingers.
But he had tried so hard, hadn’t he? He had given her everything. A wave of helplessness crashed over him. His throat tightened.
"Do you remember what I said before we married?" He took her hand, cradling it between his. "I told you—we don’t divorce. Ever."
Dressed in dark gray silk pajamas, Alexander looked unusually disheveled. His tired, bloodshot eyes betrayed his turmoil. His voice was rough, scraping against her soul.
"You just gave me a son, and now you want to leave me with him?"
A bitter smile touched his lips. "Evelyn, that’s not fair. If you want to punish me..."
He lifted her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. "At least wait until I’m hopelessly in love with you before you walk away. That would hurt more, wouldn’t it?"
Evelyn bit her lip. "I’m not worth that kind of love. How could you feel that way about me?"
He pressed a finger to her lips. "Don’t say that. You’re everything to me."
She turned her face away, refusing to meet his gaze. Her shoulders trembled slightly. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lashes damp.
She inhaled shakily, steadying herself. "Words are easy. Actions aren’t."
Her fair skin flushed faintly, brows knitting in quiet frustration. "You always leave me behind. What else am I supposed to think?"
Alexander frowned. "I’m not leaving you. I’m—"
"Enough." Evelyn covered her ears, shutting him out. She closed her eyes. "I’m tired. Let’s stop. There’s no point arguing."
She knew Alexander wouldn’t agree to a divorce. She needed time.
In the dim light, he stared at her back. Evelyn was like a whisper—so close, yet slipping through his grasp. He wanted to hold on, but his hand faltered.
Letting go? Impossible.
No one knew better than him what Evelyn meant to him. When you loved someone, you fought for them.
Divorce? Over his dead body.
Alexander sat by her bed, watching her for hours. The night deepened, the world outside growing still. Eventually, Evelyn drifted into sleep.
His eyes burned with exhaustion. Leaning forward, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"I’m sorry, Evelyn," he murmured, voice rough. "I never wanted to hurt you."
She lay motionless, eyes closed, as if she hadn’t heard. Outside, the wind howled, scattering leaves across the pavement.
Alexander rose, quietly shutting the window so she wouldn’t feel the chill. He draped his jacket over her blanket. Then, resting his head beside her, he finally slept.
Meanwhile, across town, Victoria Clarke was finishing her late shift at the convenience store. She locked up, preparing to head home.
The wind had sharpened, cutting through her coat. She pulled it tighter. The store was on the outskirts, far from the city’s warmth. The area was always colder, lonelier.
One thought nagged at her—the man hadn’t come for his usual cigarettes today. He was always punctual, like clockwork. But tonight, he hadn’t shown.
Had something happened to him?
The question gnawed at her as she walked, her mind distant.
Then the rain began.
The alley ahead was dim, shadows shifting under flickering streetlights. The wind wailed through the narrow space, rain drumming steadily.
Thankfully, she had an umbrella.
Victoria kept walking—until she spotted something on the ground. A dark stain against the wet pavement.
She crouched, frowning.
Blood.
This part of town was rough. As a cashier, she’d learned to recognize trouble. Most customers were drifters or small-time troublemakers—lost souls renting cheap rooms in the slums.
Her first instinct was to walk away. She straightened, pretending not to see.
But then—
Her breath caught.
A figure slumped in the alley’s corner.
It was him. The man who hadn’t come to the store.
Was he hurt? Was that why he hadn’t shown?