Chapter 329

Evelyn's pulse skipped erratically, but she schooled her features into perfect surprise.

She lifted her gaze to meet Alexander's dark, searching eyes.

"What? You're saying your ex-wife isn't dead?"

She arched a delicate brow before letting out a soft, incredulous laugh.

"Don't tell me you're suspecting I'm Evelyn Sinclair again?"

The moment the words left her lips, Alexander chuckled too. A crisp autumn breeze swept between them, stirring the unreadable shadows in his gaze.

He studied her intently before murmuring, "Some people are alive, yet dead to the world. Others are dead, yet still very much alive."

Evelyn's lips curved into a wry smile.

"Are you trying to say your ex-wife lives on in your heart?"

Her laughter carried a sharp edge of mockery.

"Everyone knows Evelyn was the woman you despised most."

"Everyone knows?" Alexander repeated, the irony in his faint smirk darker than hers.

Yes, everyone knew.

They all knew Evelyn had loved him with reckless devotion.

But no one knew—not even himself—that he had loved her too.

By the time he realized it, it was too late.

Too late to say "I love you" back.

At Evelyn's request, Alexander escorted her back to her apartment.

Not long after, news of the scandal at Old Master Blackwood's 80th birthday banquet exploded across social media.

Netizens flooded Victoria Lancaster's accounts with vitriol.

The more relentless ones unearthed every dark secret from Victoria's past—college photos, high school yearbooks, even elementary school portraits.

Though Victoria immediately paid to suppress the leaks, screenshots had already spread like wildfire.

Blackwood Enterprises.

Alexander received the notification right after his morning meeting.

He rarely indulged in tabloid gossip, but seeing Victoria and Vivian's names in the headline, he clicked.

Photos of a younger Victoria filled the screen—some with him, but others with different men.

Two particularly damning ones showed her pressed close to Dominic Fletcher.

In one, she was kissing his cheek.

Alexander froze.

A wave of visceral disgust crashed over him, followed by a memory so sharp it stole his breath.

That stormy night. Her sitting in his car, telling him Victoria had been with Dominic—that the baby had never been his, that the miscarriage was staged.

And what had he done?

He'd wrapped his hands around her throat and snarled, "Don't you dare slander Victoria again."

He remembered how she hadn't even struggled. Just smiled through tears and whispered, "Alexander Blackwood, if I'm lying, may I die for it."

His reply had been merciless. "Then die."

Then he'd thrown her out into the downpour and driven away, leaving her to the storm.

And later—she had died.

Regret clawed up his throat.

Alexander's eyes burned, red-rimmed and raw.

The rain from that night seemed to pour inside his chest now, drowning every heartbeat.

A bitter laugh escaped him.

Evelyn and Olivia had been right.

He'd been blind.

Deaf.

A fool.