Chapter 112

Evelyn was certain that Alexander knew exactly who she was referring to when she mentioned Mr. Blackwood.

She had hoped for even a flicker of remorse, a hint of guilt—anything. Instead, she was met with the cold, mocking scoff of a man who had long since hardened his heart.

"Evelyn, you're still clinging to that ridiculous notion, aren't you? Let me make this clear—Alexander Blackwood has only one son, and his name is Ethan Blackwood," he said, his voice dripping with disdain.

His grip on her wrist loosened, and he stepped back, his expression unreadable.

"I'm hungry. Make me some soup," he commanded.

Evelyn clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. She met his icy gaze with a hollow smile. "I didn't prepare enough for you, Mr. Blackwood. The portion is small. You should leave."

Alexander's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening. "Is that how you speak to me now, Evelyn Sinclair?"

Her pulse spiked, but she refused to let him see her tremble. "Would you prefer I grovel at your feet like I used to? Would that satisfy you?"

The air between them turned frigid.

"Perhaps I should have left you to freeze on the streets last night," he hissed, his voice low and dangerous.

Evelyn laughed bitterly. "Then why didn't you? If my existence torments Victoria so much, why save me? Why not let me die and finally rid yourself of me?"

Something in her words struck a nerve. His expression twisted, a storm brewing in his eyes.

Before she could react, his hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her throat.

Her breath hitched, her vision blurring as pressure built in her skull. But she didn't fight. She didn't beg.

She stared straight into his eyes, her own burning with defiance.

"Go ahead, Alexander. Kill me. When I reach heaven, I'll tell our child that her mother loved her—even if her father never did."

A tear slipped down her cheek.

His grip faltered.

"Your life belongs to me, Evelyn," he growled, releasing her abruptly. "You don’t get to die until you’ve paid for what you did to Victoria and my son."

She gasped for air, her chest heaving.

A bitter smile curved her lips. "And if I die before then? Will you grind my bones to dust, just like you did to your own child? All to make Victoria smile?"

Silence.

His lack of answer was answer enough.

Evelyn laughed, the sound hollow. "Of course. As long as Victoria is happy, nothing else matters, does it?"

The quiet between them was a blade, twisting deeper into her heart.

Yes. He had saved her—not out of mercy, but to prolong her suffering.