Chapter 389

Evelyn Sinclair gasped as Alexander Blackwood suddenly yanked her forward. Her breath hitched, eyes widening in shock at his accusation. The air seemed to vanish from her lungs.

How... How does he know it wasn't me?

Unless Vivian Prescott told him everything?

No. She wouldn't. She couldn't have!

"Cough—cough—"

Alexander's grip on her throat tightened, cutting off her air supply. Her face flushed crimson, words tangling on her tongue. "W-What are you saying, Alexander? I'm Lillian, the one you've cherished all these years. How else would I have the silver locket? Please—let me go—"

"Do you really think I'd believe your lies now?" Alexander's voice dropped to a lethal whisper, his frosty gaze piercing through her.

"You're not even Eleanor and William's daughter. So how could the locket engraved with 'Evelyn' belong to you? You never had the memories of being called 'Lily'—so how could you possibly be her?"

Victoria Lancaster's pupils shrank to pinpricks.

She hadn't expected Eleanor to reveal this to Alexander. Nor had she imagined he'd piece together the truth from just a name.

"All these years, you've deceived me." His voice darkened, fury simmering beneath his composed exterior. "You should have known, Victoria Lancaster, what happens to those who dare lie to me."

His fingers tightened, veins standing stark against his pale skin.

Victoria's breath stuttered, terror clawing at her chest.

"No, Alexander—don't kill me! I—I really am Lillian—"

A sharp crack cut her off.

Her body went rigid, fear flooding her vision. She couldn't lie anymore.

"I—I was wrong! Please, spare me! If you kill me now, you'll never find out who she really is—!"

Truthfully, Alexander no longer cared.

The moment he realized his heart belonged to Vivian, childhood promises meant nothing.

What disgusted him most was how he'd let this woman manipulate him, share his bed, bear his child.

Worse—she'd used Lillian's name to blind him, making him hurt the woman he truly loved, over and over.

Alexander flung her aside, murderous intent burning in his veins.

Victoria crashed onto the floor, gasping for air.

Her neck burned with pain.

She never thought Alexander could be this ruthless.

For years, he'd trusted her completely, indulged her every whim.

Only now did she understand—when this man loved, he loved fiercely.

But when enraged, his wrath was hell itself.

Would she have to endure damnation before ever knowing his love?

No.

She refused hell.

And she wouldn't let Vivian Prescott claim heaven.

Through tear-blurred vision, she watched Alexander stride toward her, his shadow swallowing her whole.