Chapter 228

Alexander's fingers lingered over the engraved letters on the tombstone before he finally stood.

The cemetery was empty, mirroring the hollowness in his chest.

When raindrops began to fall, he reluctantly turned away.

Meanwhile, Evelyn had just returned to her apartment with Amelia when her phone buzzed.

Alexander's name flashed on the screen.

He was waiting at the community gate, insisting he needed to speak with her urgently.

Evelyn hesitated, glancing at Sebastian, who was playing with Amelia.

"Go," Sebastian said, reading her hesitation. "Do what you must."

He understood. Revenge was her priority now.

And Alexander was part of that plan.

Evelyn changed into a sleek black dress and descended the elevator, spotting Alexander's car parked outside.

The rain had intensified, drumming heavily against the pavement.

Alexander stepped out, shielding her with an umbrella as he opened the passenger door.

Inside the car, Evelyn cut straight to the chase. "Mr. Blackwood, what's so important that it couldn't wait?"

"I want to end this," he said quietly.

"End what?" She frowned, studying his sharp profile in the dim interior light.

His lips curved slightly. "Dinner. Just dinner." He met her gaze. "I won't mistake you for her again."

"Her?"

"My ex-wife."

The car accelerated, tires splashing through puddles, as if trying to outrun the ghosts of his past.

Evelyn expected a restaurant, but instead, they arrived at his private villa—the same one she had once called home.

The house was eerily silent, devoid of even the usual staff.

Was Ethan not here?

Alexander had claimed he wouldn’t fight for custody, but if the boy remained with Victoria…

The thought unsettled her.

"Make yourself comfortable," Alexander said, shrugging off his rain-dampened coat. He handed her a cup of Earl Grey before disappearing into the kitchen.

Evelyn watched, stunned, as he began preparing dinner himself.

Thirty minutes later, an intimate candlelit dinner was set.

Fine wine, flickering candles—it was almost romantic.

"A candlelight dinner?" Evelyn arched a brow. "Isn’t this inappropriate?"

"It’s just dinner," he replied smoothly, pulling out her chair. "Miss Prescott, please."

"Thank you." She sat, amused by the absurdity of it all.

Alexander Blackwood, cooking for her?

How ironic.

You’re too late, Alexander.

My heart for you died long ago.

Now, I want you to suffer—just as I did.

"To new beginnings," Alexander murmured, raising his glass.

Evelyn clinked hers against his, her smile sharp.

Ding-dong.

The doorbell shattered the moment.

Alexander’s jaw tightened.

"Alexander, it's me!" Victoria’s voice carried through the door. "Please, let me explain! I only did those things because Evelyn forced me!"