Chapter 256

Evelyn let out a soft chuckle before stepping forward.

Alexander froze when he saw her. His expression shifted to one of surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Don’t you want to see me, Mr. Blackwood?" Evelyn asked, her smile carefully crafted. Then, she added, "Though, to be honest, I’m not here for Victoria. I’m here for you."

Alexander’s eyes darkened. Under the dim hospital lights, her smile seemed almost dangerous. He stepped closer, his voice low. "Come with me."

Without warning, his fingers closed around her wrist, his touch ice-cold. She didn’t pull away—but this time, there was no lingering reluctance.

He led her to the rooftop, where the night stretched out in eerie silence.

Stars dotted the sky, shimmering like scattered diamonds. The autumn wind whispered between them, cool and restless.

"Why bring me up here?" Evelyn tilted her head, studying his unreadable expression.

Moonlight painted his sharp features in silver, his gaze distant. When he didn’t answer, she turned to leave.

His hand shot out, stopping her. "Stay."

The word was quiet. Almost pleading.

Evelyn’s lips curved slightly. She had learned long ago—sometimes, you had to yield to win.

"Stay with you?"

She turned back, meeting his intense stare.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Alexander released her, moving to the edge of the rooftop. He lit a cigarette, the flame flickering before the wind snuffed it out, leaving only the faint scent of tobacco.

Evelyn watched him. His tall frame looked almost fragile under the moonlight—like a man carrying too much weight.

"How is your fiancée?" she finally asked.

Alexander exhaled slowly. "She’s not my fiancée anymore. I won’t marry her."

Evelyn laughed softly. "I don’t believe you. Sebastian told me how much you adore Victoria. Enough to destroy anyone who stood in her way—even your own wife. You must have been relieved when Evelyn died, right, Mr. Blackwood?"

"Relieved?"

His low chuckle sent a shiver down her spine. It was impossible to tell if he was amused or furious.

Then he turned, his gaze trailing from her face down to the delicate curve of her collarbone, barely visible beneath her nightgown.

He crushed the cigarette beneath his shoe and closed the distance between them.

Suddenly, his palm slammed against the wall behind her, caging her in.

They were so close she could feel his breath—warm, tinged with tobacco—against her skin. His eyes burned into hers, dark and possessive.

He wasn’t drunk, but there was something reckless in his stare.

"Why do you care so much about my ex-wife?"

Evelyn kept her voice steady. "Maybe because I look like her."

His fingers brushed her cheek, startling her. She tried to pull away, but his grip tightened—just enough to hold her in place.

Her pulse raced as his warmth seeped into her skin. "Mr. Blackwood, what are you doing?"

His thumb traced her jawline. "Something I never did with her."