Chapter 269

Evelyn's fingers trembled as they brushed against her cheek. The warm, sticky liquid coating her fingertips made her breath hitch.

"Blood!" Her voice cracked. "There's so much blood! My face—!"

She stared at her crimson-stained palm, a scream tearing from her throat. The blood loss drained the color from her skin, leaving her ghostly pale.

Vivian Prescott tilted her head, taking in the jagged gash marring Victoria Lancaster's once-flawless cheek. A bitter laugh bubbled up inside her.

How ironic.

The woman who had orchestrated her downfall was now disfigured.

Was this divine retribution?

"Vic, darling, don't panic! Alexander is here—he won't let anything happen to you!" Margaret Dawson rushed forward, her voice dripping with false concern. She shot a pointed look at Alexander Blackwood.

"Alexander, take her to the emergency room now! If that wound scars, it'll ruin everything!" Margaret shoved Victoria toward him.

Tears streamed down Victoria's face as she gazed at Alexander, who still held Vivian in his arms. "Alexander… my face… Am I hideous now?"

"Alexander, for heaven's sake! She's bleeding out! She could die!" Margaret shrieked dramatically.

Victoria lifted her head, watching as Alexander's brow furrowed in contemplation.

Then, just as he seemed about to step toward her—

Vivian let out a soft whimper.

Alexander's attention snapped back to her.

"What's wrong?"

"Don't mind me, Mr. Blackwood." Vivian's lips curled into a mocking smile. "I just twisted my ankle. You should tend to your precious fiancée before she bleeds to death."

Her words dripped with venom. Margaret and Victoria glared but bit back their retorts.

"Alexander, Victoria is getting worse! Hurry—"

"You take her." Alexander cut Margaret off coldly. Then, without hesitation, he tightened his grip on Vivian's hand. "I'm taking you to orthopedics."

Victoria and Margaret gaped in disbelief.

Vivian arched a brow, amused by their stunned expressions. "Isn't this inappropriate?"

"Your injury takes priority," Alexander stated firmly, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him.

"Alexander!" Victoria's voice cracked with desperation. "Are you seriously ignoring me?!"

Vivian smirked, relishing the frustration radiating off Victoria.

How many times had she begged for his attention, only to be cast aside?

Now, the roles were reversed.

Margaret stomped her foot, seething. "Victoria, come on! I'll take you myself. That scar will ruin everything if we don't act fast!"

Victoria's face twisted with fury, but she had no choice.

"Vivian Prescott," she hissed, venom lacing every syllable, "you'll pay for this."

With one last hateful glare, she turned away.

"Aren't you worried about your fiancée's face, Mr. Blackwood?" Vivian asked sweetly. "A scar might make her less appealing."

Alexander paused, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. "Her scars don't concern me half as much as your pain does."

The answer caught her off guard.

Her ankle wasn't even hurt—she'd only said it to keep him from leaving.

But now, she played along, wincing slightly. "It… stings a little."

Concern flickered in Alexander's gaze. Without warning, he swept her into his arms, cradling her against his chest.

Vivian gasped, unprepared for the sudden movement.

"You shouldn't be in pain anymore," he murmured, his breath warm against her ear.

She stared up at him, struck by the sharp lines of his jaw, the cold beauty of his profile. His body heat seeped through his shirt, scorching against her skin.

But she felt nothing.

No flutter in her chest. No warmth.

Only bitter amusement.

Alexander, do you have any idea how long I waited for this?

Her fingers curled into fists.

And yet, all she felt was emptiness.