Chapter 291

The drug made Evelyn's head swim.

She thought she heard a voice whispering in her ear—calling her Evelyn, telling her everything would be okay.

She fought to open her eyes, desperate to see who it was, but her eyelids only grew heavier. Instinctively, she curled into the man holding her.

His presence was the only thing anchoring her.

For the first time in years, she felt safe.

Not hunted. Not broken.

Just… protected.

The past had been nothing but pain—every outstretched hand had only pushed her deeper into hell. She had stopped hoping long ago.

But now, with his arms around her, warmth seeped into her bones.

Alexander felt her shift, her fingers sliding up to loop around his neck. The movement snapped him back to reality.

He looked down at the woman in his arms, and for a heartbeat, he saw her.

The one he had lost.

"Vivian," he murmured, forcing himself to remember this wasn’t Evelyn Sinclair.

But God, she looked like her.

"Dizzy…" she whispered, her voice barely audible.

"I'm taking you to the hospital." He lifted her effortlessly, carrying her toward the car.

"Alexander!"

The sharp cry made him freeze.

He turned to see Victoria Lancaster on her knees, tears streaking her face. Her clothes were torn, her hands shaking as she pointed at the unconscious men scattered around them.

"Alexander, they—they hurt me!" Her voice cracked. "I can't—I can't live like this!"

His jaw tightened.

Memories flashed—Victoria as a child, innocent and sweet.

He had never loved her, but he had believed in that innocence.

Now, faced with the truth, something inside him snapped.

The police arrived swiftly, arresting the men while both women were rushed to the hospital.

Eleanor Kingsley and William Montgomery arrived in a panic, their faces pale when they heard what had happened to their daughter.

"How could this happen?" Eleanor sobbed into William's shoulder. "She was supposed to be safe!"

Margaret Dawson stood nearby, wiping fake tears.

What went wrong? she wondered. Victoria was supposed to film Vivian's humiliation—not become the victim herself.

"Where's Alexander?" Eleanor demanded, scanning the room. "Why isn't he here with Victoria?"

Margaret sighed dramatically. "He went to see her—that woman. While our Victoria suffers, he's with that witch."

Eleanor's face darkened. "Unacceptable." She stormed out, demanding to know Vivian's room number.

In the quiet hospital ward, Alexander stood over Vivian's sleeping form.

His chest ached at the memory of how close she had come to disaster.

He reached out, fingertips brushing her brow.

She was breathtaking—every delicate curve of her face a mirror of the woman he had loved and lost.

But she wasn’t her.

And that truth cut deeper than he wanted to admit.