Chapter 27

Evelyn rushed to find Alexander without delay. The man looked as impeccably polished as ever, seated at his desk, engrossed in a stack of documents. He didn’t even glance up when she entered.

When she asked to borrow three hundred thousand dollars, he laughed—a cold, mocking sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"Evelyn, money means nothing to me," Alexander said, his voice dripping with disdain. "But I won’t give you a single cent."

Her fingers curled into fists, nails biting into her palms. "My grandfather has lung cancer. He needs treatment. Please, Alexander. I’ll pay you back—every penny."

"With what?" His smirk was cruel. Then, as if amused by her desperation, he added, "I’ll lend you the money—if you agree to my terms."

Her stomach twisted.

He wanted Victoria to take her place—to reduce her to nothing but his mistress.

Evelyn swallowed the lump in her throat. "Anything but that."

Alexander snapped his folder shut and stood, his gaze glacial. "Then you get nothing."

As he turned to leave, panic seized her. She grabbed his arm. "Please, Alexander. My grandfather will die without treatment!"

He chuckled darkly. "And why should I care?"

The words struck like a blade. The man before her was no longer the one she once loved—just a stranger with ice in his veins.

Her thoughts scattered as his fingers dug into her chin, forcing her to meet his merciless gaze. His aristocratic features were sharp, his eyes filled with nothing but scorn.

"Since you’re so desperate," he murmured, "sell yourself. With that face, three hundred thousand should be easy."

He shoved her away and strode off, leaving her trembling.

His words echoed in her skull, a relentless drumbeat of humiliation. The pain in her abdomen flared—her illness rearing its ugly head. She fumbled for her painkillers, swallowing one dry.

Tears burned, but she refused to let them fall.

He was right.

There was only one way left.

But she wouldn’t debase herself the way he expected.

Instead, she walked into the most exclusive nightclub in Willowbrook, a bottle of the finest champagne in hand. The manager had promised her a hundred-thousand-dollar commission if she sold it to the right client.

The VIP room was her target.

Her heart pounded as she pushed open the door—only to freeze.

Alexander lounged on the sofa like a king, his presence dominating the room. Beside him, Victoria smirked, her eyes gleaming with triumph.

Evelyn’s stomach lurched.

She turned to leave.

"Evelyn," Alexander drawled, his voice laced with amusement. "I didn’t think you’d actually stoop this low."

Her blood turned to ice.

Victoria gasped theatrically. "Evelyn! What are you doing here?"

Evelyn forced a brittle smile. "Unlike you, I’m here to work."

Victoria’s face twisted in fake concern. "You’re selling yourself? How disgraceful! If you needed money, you should’ve come to me!"

Evelyn’s fingers tightened around the bottle.

She wouldn’t break.

Not here.

Not in front of them.