Chapter 468

The lights in the apartment flickered out.

Alexander's breath hitched as his thoughts spiraled.

He tossed the empty wine bottle into the bin and turned without hesitation.

But just as he was about to step inside, Sebastian Whitman emerged from the building.

Some of Alexander's pent-up frustration eased. He paused, watching as Sebastian drove off with a stormy expression. Only then did he enter.

Alexander moved toward Evelyn's unit effortlessly. He still remembered when she had invited him in before—back when she had returned to his life as Vivian Prescott.

That was when he realized she wasn’t actually living with Sebastian.

Now, he approached her door slowly, standing there in silence.

The wind howled outside, snowflakes drifting in through the hallway window. The cold bit into his skin like needles, but Alexander barely noticed.

It was nothing compared to the pain he had once inflicted on Evelyn.

He leaned against the wall, knees bending as he sank onto a stool by her door.

Evelyn was a light sleeper. A muffled thud near her door pulled her from sleep—something between a knock and a stumble.

Curious, she slipped on a coat and stepped out.

Peering through the peephole, she saw nothing. Yet the faint noise persisted.

After a brief hesitation, she opened the door.

To her shock, Alexander was slumped against the wall beside it, head bowed. His thick lashes cast shadows under the dim hallway light.

Gone was his usual icy elegance. Instead, he looked vulnerable—like a lost child, sleeping soundly.

Evelyn studied him in silence before turning away.

"Love..."

The whisper stopped her cold.

She glanced back at the sleeping man.

"Really love..."

A bitter scoff escaped her.

"Alexander, are you seriously performing for me now?"

The sound of her voice—the one he ached for day and night—jolted him awake.

His hazy eyes lifted, landing on her. Slowly, he pushed himself up, the initial shock fading.

Evelyn finally noticed the unnatural flush on his face. The heavy scent of wine clung to him. He was clearly drunk.

"Evelyn," he murmured, voice soft. His dazed gaze burned with an intensity she'd never seen before.

She met his stare coldly. "Stop coming here. I don’t want to see you. And don’t call me Evelyn. Your foolish, naive ex-wife is dead."

Her glare was sharper than the winter wind. She reached for the door.

Alexander's hand shot out, stopping it. "Vivian." His voice was rough, wine-darkened eyes pleading. "Don’t push me away. I need to tell you something."