Chapter 471

Perhaps it was the shock of seeing him there, but Evelyn's pulse stuttered unexpectedly.

Her first instinct was to walk past the man collapsed on her doorstep. Yet when she caught sight of Alexander's furrowed brows and pained expression, her hands moved before her mind could stop them, checking his temperature.

His cheek felt like ice, but his forehead burned like fire.

As she leaned closer, the sharp tang of alcohol mixed with his distinctive cologne assaulted her senses.

He'd clearly been drinking heavily before passing out in the freezing night air. No wonder he was burning up now.

Evelyn considered calling an ambulance to deal with him - the perfect solution to avoid involvement. But as she turned to reach for her phone, Alexander's fingers closed around her wrist.

His touch was glacial, the cold seeping straight to her bones.

"Stay..." he murmured, lashes fluttering as if caught in a dream. His hooded eyes cracked open. "Please stay."

Then he was unconscious again.

Evelyn tugged at her trapped hand irritably. "Alexander, let go."

"Never again..." he mumbled incoherently, his grip tightening despite his unconscious state.

With an exasperated sigh, she relented. "Fine. I'm not leaving. Now will you loosen your death grip?"

At her voice, Alexander's eyes opened slightly. In his feverish haze, Evelyn's beautiful face swam before him.

Grudgingly, she helped the half-conscious man inside. At 5'6", dragging a 6'2" man was no easy feat. She barely managed to dump him onto the guest bed.

When she turned to fetch medicine, his hand shot out again.

"You promised," he accused weakly, his usually commanding voice now childishly petulant.

Evelyn shook him off impatiently. "Unlike you, I keep my promises. I said I'd stay, so I will."

She glared at him before retrieving fever reducers and warm water.

By the time she returned, Alexander had fallen into a deep sleep, oblivious to her efforts. The thermometer confirmed her suspicions - definitely a fever.

With no other options, she began cooling him with alcohol wipes. But as she worked, staring at his peaceful face, she suddenly clenched her fists and stood abruptly.

'What the hell are you doing, Evelyn Sinclair?'

'Why are you helping him?'

'Even if his temperature hits 105°, it's not your problem.'

'Did he care when you were in agony? When you begged for help? He turned his back on you without hesitation.'

With one last icy glance at the sleeping man, she walked away.

Hours later, Alexander awoke disoriented from strangely pleasant dreams. In them, Evelyn had tended to him with gentle hands.

Blinking at his surroundings, he realized it hadn't been a dream after all.

His bitter heart warmed at the sight of medication and water waiting on the nightstand. Though the water had gone cold, it tasted sweeter than any vintage wine as he swallowed the pills.

Meanwhile at Blackwood Enterprises...

Evelyn sat beside Sebastian Whitman, preparing for the press conference that would announce the seismic shift in company ownership - news already trending across financial networks.