Chapter 451

The wind howled through the cemetery as Alexander stood frozen, the memories of that fateful day flooding back with painful clarity.

Snow had been falling heavily that afternoon. Evelyn had trembled violently, clutching the urn in her arms, her lips stained crimson. She had looked broken—like a discarded marionette—yet her eyes burned with defiance.

"Alexander," she had whispered, her voice raw. "Kill me. I never want to see you again."

Then, with a chilling finality: "You will regret this."

And he, arrogant to the last, had sneered, "Regret is a word I don’t recognize."

Now, Evelyn’s mocking laughter snapped him back to the present.

"What’s wrong? Remembering your sins?" Her voice dripped with venom. "Do you recall how eagerly you believed our child was a bastard? How you wanted to crush her bones to dust?"

Alexander flinched. The weight of his past cruelty pressed down on him like a suffocating shroud.

I finally understand the pain I caused you.

"Stop looking at me like that," Evelyn spat. "Your remorse means nothing. It won’t undo what you did."

Her gaze was icy, stripped of all warmth. No love. No longing. Only fury.

"You refused to help me when I begged for my grandfather’s life. You humiliated me in front of Victoria. You believed her lies—that I was unfaithful, that I was scheming for your money." Her voice cracked. "You let Margaret and Richard torture me. Do you have any idea what that felt like?"

She swallowed hard, her fingers curling into fists.

"Richard kicked me so hard I vomited blood. I couldn’t stand. But you—you carried her to the hospital instead." A bitter laugh escaped her. "All I ever did was love you. And that was my crime."

Tears welled in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.

Alexander watched her in silence, his own vision blurring. The shards of their past cut deeper with every word.

"I will never forgive you."

His throat tightened. He forced a smile, fragile and resigned. "If you can’t love me, then hate me. At least I’ll still have a place in your mind."

Evelyn scoffed. "Delusional to the end."

She turned away, disgust twisting her features. "And stay away from Henry’s grave."

Without another word, she walked off, her figure disappearing into the winter haze.

Alexander knelt, carefully rearranging the white chrysanthemums before Henry’s tombstone. The wind answered his silent apology with a frigid gust.

Later, at the police station, he handed over a small evidence bag. Inside was a Chanel earring, its surface long stained with dried blood.

Victoria’s face drained of color when the officers informed her of the new charges—two counts of murder.

Panic seized her.

Evelyn’s identity must have been exposed.

If Alexander knew the truth, she was finished.

And sure enough, he appeared moments later, his presence casting a shadow over the interrogation room.

"Alexander," she stammered, forcing a weak smile. "You came to see me?"

Her trembling hands betrayed her fear.

His expression remained unreadable.

The game was over.