Chapter 279

"Victoria! My darling girl!" Eleanor Kingsley's anguished scream pierced the air. Her knees buckled as she collapsed into William Montgomery's waiting arms, unconscious from the shock.

Evelyn Sinclair's chest tightened at the sight.

Despite Eleanor's coldness toward her, the woman was still her birth mother. Evelyn still wished for Eleanor and William's wellbeing, even as they remained blind to Victoria's manipulations.

The entire situation felt like a grotesque performance.

Evelyn's gaze shifted to Alexander Blackwood standing motionless at the balcony's edge where Victoria had jumped moments earlier. His expression remained unreadable as he peered down at the lower terrace.

After several tense seconds, he turned with measured steps. "She landed on the balcony below. The fall wasn't fatal." His voice held steady, but Evelyn didn't miss the subtle exhale of relief.

Of course he still cared. That lingering concern for Victoria's life remained, despite everything.

Evelyn had anticipated this outcome. Victoria wouldn't have jumped without ensuring her survival first. The scheming woman had clearly scouted the building's architecture beforehand.

Still, Victoria was rushed to the emergency room.

When Eleanor regained consciousness and learned her daughter hadn't plummeted twenty stories to her death, she wept with hysterical relief.

Spotting Alexander, Eleanor launched herself at him. "How much longer will you torture my child? She gave you her youth, and you repay her by destroying her life for that wretched Vivian Prescott! Was Evelyn not enough? Must you find her doppelgänger to torment us further? If Victoria dies because of this, will you ever sleep again?"

Alexander absorbed the tirade impassively.

Sleep? When had he known peaceful rest since Evelyn's supposed death?

After a weighted pause, he responded coolly, "To end this 'torment,' I've terminated our engagement."

"You're abandoning her now? This is how you push her toward death?" Eleanor shrieked.

The ER doors swung open, cutting off her outburst. Both parents rushed to the doctor.

"Multiple fractures," the physician reported gravely. "The leg injuries are particularly severe. There's risk of permanent disability."

"Disability?" Eleanor's face drained of color. "You mean she might never walk properly again?"

"With proper care and therapy, full recovery remains possible," the doctor offered. "Avoid emotional triggers during her convalescence."

Eleanor's hands clenched into fists. "That Vivian Prescott! I'll make her pay!"

"Mrs. Montgomery, please," Margaret Dawson interjected, steering the distraught mother away. Then she turned pleading eyes to Alexander. "You're Victoria's only hope for recovery. Your presence could make all the difference. Don't you remember your childhood promise? You swore to always protect her."

Alexander's expression darkened at the reminder of that youthful vow.

Once, he'd longed to fulfill that promise. But after losing Evelyn—after realizing he'd loved her—that innocent pledge had become an inescapable chain, dragging him deeper into obligation.

The next morning, Evelyn found herself confronted by police officers accusing her of attempted murder. They demanded she accompany them for questioning, their tone leaving no room for refusal.

Memories of that nightmarish cell flooded back—the relentless interrogations, the humiliations, the brutal loss of her child. She would never voluntarily return to that hell.

Never again.

As officers moved to seize her, a sleek sports car screeched to a halt, blocking the police vehicle's path.