Chapter 460

Dominic Blackwood exuded effortless elegance. The moment he emerged from the luxury vehicle, every female employee in the bridal boutique clutched their chests, hearts practically leaping from their eyes.

"Oh my God! Mr. Blackwood is divine! He makes every Hollywood actor look plain in comparison..."

"That financial magazine cover doesn't do him justice! I might actually faint..." "What I wouldn't give to be that woman marrying him..."

The whispering staff lined up like starstruck schoolgirls, their gazes locked onto Dominic's chiseled features with undisguised admiration.

The object of their affection stood ramrod straight, his military-trained posture impeccable as he guided Evelyn Sinclair through the boutique entrance with protective precision.

"Mr. Blackwood, Ms. Sinclair."

The boutique manager greeted them with practiced professionalism. "We've just received exclusive wedding gowns handcrafted by Milan's finest designers. Whether you prefer classic elegance, modern minimalism, or daring avant-garde, we can accommodate every preference. What style speaks to you, Ms. Sinclair?"

Cradled against Dominic's side, Evelyn responded with hollow detachment. "Whatever's fine."

The manager's eyebrows lifted slightly.

The bride-to-be couldn't be older than twenty-two, her natural beauty requiring no makeup enhancement. Even through professional detachment, the manager noted her flawless complexion and enviable curves.

Yet something felt...off. Most brides glowed with anticipation, especially those marrying Dominic Blackwood - a man whose engagement announcement had shattered countless socialite hearts across the city.

Why did this girl seem so...resigned?

Pushing aside his curiosity, the manager gestured toward a mannequin. "This is our signature piece, Ms. Sinclair. A perfect fusion of timeless tradition and contemporary design. Would you like to try it?"

Evelyn's clear eyes sought Dominic's.

He dipped his head, pressing a tender kiss to her lips. "Go ahead. I want to see my bride in white." A quiet "Mm" was her only reply before she followed attendants to the fitting room.

Dominic settled onto a plush sofa, idly flipping through a business magazine while sipping espresso. His relaxed posture belied the intensity in his gaze whenever it flickered toward the dressing room.

Inside, attendants gasped at Evelyn's transformation, though she remained oblivious to their reactions.

A storm of emotions raged within her - love, longing, despair. Each breath felt like swallowing glass.

"You're absolutely breathtaking, Ms. Sinclair," gushed a bun-wearing attendant adjusting the side zipper. "The cut complements your figure perfectly. A duchess tried this same gown last week and looked like a sack of potatoes by comparison!"

Evelyn's vision blurred with unshed tears. The cruel irony wasn't lost on her - she could wear the dress, but never truly be Dominic's bride.

"Ms. Sinclair? Are you unwell?" A shorter attendant frowned at Evelyn's pallor. "We have a private lounge if you need to rest."

Evelyn shook her head mutely.

The poisonous secret festering in her heart was aimed directly at Dominic - a dagger poised to strike the moment she let her guard down. She'd buried it deep, protecting him even from herself.

But she was powerless against the woman's threats. The impending separation felt like having her soul ripped in two.

"Wedding jitters are normal," the bun-wearing attendant soothed. "Every bride worries about losing freedom. But when you love someone as extraordinary as Mr. Blackwood..."

"Yes," Evelyn forced out. "I used all my lifetime's luck meeting him. Now...there's none left." Her whisper faded into nothingness, lips moving soundlessly.

The attendants exchanged confused glances. Most women would be delirious to marry Dominic Blackwood. Why did his fiancée seem like she was attending a funeral?

The fitting room curtains parted.

Gasps echoed through the boutique as Evelyn emerged - a vision in white silk with delicate lace accents. The off-shoulder design showcased her porcelain skin and elegant collarbones. Minimal makeup enhanced her natural beauty.

She stood motionless, a living masterpiece.

Dominic's magazine slipped from his fingers.

His chest tightened at the sight of his would-be bride. Then he noticed every male employee's hungry stares.

Possessive fury surged through him. He wanted to wrap Evelyn in shadows where no one could glimpse her perfection.

And so he did.

In three strides, Dominic draped his jacket over Evelyn's bare shoulders, pulling her flush against him. When his lips brushed her tear-stained cheek, he tasted salt and sorrow.