Chapter 718

Evelyn hadn't intended to hurt Alexander. The moment it happened, her stomach twisted with guilt. Blood trickled from the cut on his cheekbone, stark against his pale skin.

She bit her lower lip, her fingers trembling. "I didn't mean to... You should take care of that."

Alexander barely glanced at the wound. "It's nothing."

Evelyn exhaled sharply. "It's still bleeding." Without waiting for a response, she turned and retrieved the first-aid kit from the car. She set it down in front of him, her expression unreadable.

His gaze darkened, his voice softening. "I can't do this myself. Evelyn, help me."

She hesitated. He tilted his head slightly, studying her face before adding, "You're rushing to the hospital to assist Dominic with his treatment, but you won't even tend to this? Especially when you caused it."

After a beat, she relented. Annoyance still simmered beneath her skin, but she opened the kit. The cut wasn't deep, but it stretched across his cheek, red and angry.

She dipped a cotton swab in antiseptic and pressed it to the wound. His breath hitched, his jaw tightening.

Evelyn suspected he thought she was doing this deliberately—punishing him in some small way. But her expression remained blank, betraying nothing.

The sting must have been sharper than he expected. His fingers closed around her wrist, his voice rough. "Evelyn... it hurts."

Alexander had always been unshakable, never showing vulnerability. Seeing him like this—brows furrowed, a faint sheen of sweat at his temples—was unsettling.

She gentled her touch, switching to a soothing ointment. "Better?"

His lips curved slightly. Eyes closed, he murmured, "Thank you. It doesn't hurt anymore. Actually... I'm glad. I know you care. You just won't say it." His voice was quiet, warm with something like relief.

All he'd ever wanted was simple—to spend his life with the woman he loved. Only with Evelyn did he feel like he could breathe.

She said nothing, focusing on packing the medical supplies away. Just as she closed the kit, his arms encircled her from behind, pulling her against his chest. "You came back. That's all I wanted. I won't take it for granted."

Silence stretched between them. When it became clear he wouldn't let go, she finally spoke. "I'm tired. I need to rest. Alexander, leave."

"Leave?" He blinked, startled. After a pause, he nodded. She hadn't forgiven him yet—he knew better than to push.

"Alright. I'll sleep in the study. Rest well." With that, he quietly shut the door behind him.

Hours later, Evelyn lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Her phone buzzed—a message from Claire.

[Why did you go back? Does this mean you've forgiven Alexander?]

Evelyn frowned. She hadn't forgiven him. She just... needed to watch him a little longer. One mistake shouldn't erase everything. Aside from the mess with Isabella, he'd always been dependable.

What she didn't expect was Oliver's arrival the next morning. He'd been studying abroad, building his career overseas. But the second he heard about the baby, he'd booked the first flight home.

He looked like he'd come straight from the airport, lugging multiple suitcases. The moment he stepped inside, he grinned. "Evelyn! Where's my nephew?"

Her gaze dropped. "He was premature. Still in the hospital."

Oliver unpacked supplements he'd brought for her. "He's not discharged yet? When can I see him?"

"It'll be a while."

Her subdued tone made him pause. "What's wrong?"

All he knew was that Evelyn had been in an accident, triggering early labor. Details had come from Margaret—he had no idea about the rest.

So Evelyn told him everything.

The moment she finished, Oliver exploded. He shot up from the couch, fists clenched. "Wait—so when you crashed, Alexander wasn't just absent, he left you for another woman?" His voice rose, outrage blazing in his eyes. "Where the hell is he? I need to talk to him."

But Alexander had left early that morning. Though he'd promised to take Evelyn to the hospital for Dominic's treatment, he was gone when she woke. Only a warm breakfast remained.

She didn't call him.

Evelyn picked at her food. "He probably had business." Then, quieter, "Maybe... something came up at Isabella's hospital."

Alexander had gone to the hospital—but not the one where Isabella was.

A pediatrician had called him. That morning's echocardiogram had revealed an abnormality in the baby's heart.

He didn't want Evelyn worrying, especially not during her recovery. So he went alone.

In the NICU, he finally saw his son. Two weeks old, but still so small—curled in the incubator like a fragile doll.

The baby's skin was nearly translucent, tinged faintly purple. His tiny chest rose and fell rapidly. Alexander's throat tightened.

This wasn't how it was supposed to be.

He turned to the doctor. "What's wrong with his heart?"

The physician hesitated. Initially, it had just been a minor patent foramen ovale—common in preemies, usually harmless.

But today's results were different. The condition had worsened.

The doctor's silence made Alexander's stomach drop. "Just tell me. I can handle it."

Whatever it was, this was his child—his and Evelyn's. He'd face it. No matter the cost.