Chapter 188

The voice sent chills down her spine. Every nerve in her body screamed in recognition—and revulsion.

Evelyn lifted her gaze slowly. The corridor lights blazed mercilessly, illuminating Dominic Fletcher's grotesque, panic-stricken face as he stumbled into view.

Drunk and disoriented moments ago, Dominic had only found her profile vaguely familiar. Now, confronted with Evelyn's full visage, he recoiled violently. His legs gave way, sending him crashing to the floor in an undignified heap.

Leaning against the doorframe, Evelyn observed his terror with icy amusement. A radiant smile curved her lips as Dominic scrambled backward like a cornered animal.

"Sir?" Her voice dripped with false concern. "You seem unwell. Shall I help you up?"

Dominic's pupils dilated in horror. "E-Evelyn! Stay back!"

'Stay back?'

A humorless laugh bubbled in her throat.

Evelyn advanced, her stilettos clicking ominously. "Why so frightened? I'm flesh and blood—not some vengeful spirit. Unless..." She tilted her head. "...you have reason to fear ghosts?"

"Demon! You're a demon!" Spittle flew from Dominic's lips as he crab-walked backward. "I lied, okay? But I didn't kill you! Go haunt Victoria! This isn't my fault!"

With a final incoherent shout, he fled as though the hounds of hell pursued him.

Evelyn watched his retreating form, lips twisting in grim satisfaction.

She'd lived honorably. Loved fiercely. Yet they'd carved her into a broken, bleeding thing.

Meanwhile, these monsters still reveled in champagne and sin.

Dominic's terror was merely the opening act. The real performance? That required Alexander Blackwood.

The suite door groaned as Evelyn pushed it open.

Unlike the corridor's harsh brilliance or the club's psychedelic chaos, here golden lamplight pooled like liquid honey. It gilded the man sprawled across the leather sofa—his shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal the tantalizing hollow of his collarbone.

Alexander's eyes were closed, long lashes casting shadows over his sharp cheekbones. The crystal lamp's glow softened his usually imperious features, yet couldn't erase the weariness etched between his brows.

Evelyn's breath hitched. She'd never seen him look so... human.

But why would a billionaire playboy—with his perfect mistress and heir—carry such exhaustion?

"Mr. Blackwood."

Silence.

The scent of Bordeaux clung to him, mingling with his cedarwood cologne. Evelyn counted three empty bottles on the coffee table.

"Alexander."

His name slipped out—a relic from when it lived in her heart like a sacred incantation. Once, she'd believed she'd cherish it until death.

How naive.

The man before her exhaled evenly, oblivious to the storm of contempt in Evelyn's gaze. Her lips curved.

'I loved you then. Now? You're just another stepping stone.'

A phone shattered the quiet.

Evelyn's eyes dropped to the vibrating device. Every instinct screamed it was Victoria.

Her fingers hovered over the screen—

—only to be captured in a vise-like grip.

Evelyn jerked her head up. Alexander's eyes burned through the alcoholic haze, locking onto hers with unsettling intensity. Her pulse stuttered, but her smile never wavered.

"Awake at last, Mr. Blackwood? I was about to take your call. Though now..." She flexed her trapped wrist meaningfully. "...you seem quite capable of answering yourself."