Chapter 90

Alexander settled into his seat with practiced ease. Evelyn tugged at his sleeve with feigned hesitation.

"Alexander, I don't think this is wise. Sophia doesn't seem happy about this arrangement."

Evelyn's fingers twitched around her juice glass, resisting the violent urge to hurl its contents across Victoria's perfectly made-up face. Which of the woman's scheming eyes had detected any displeasure?

The silence stretched until Alexander's cool voice cut through. "What right does she have to object?"

A bitter laugh caught in Evelyn's throat.

Right. What right indeed?

She'd always been nothing to him.

Victoria preened at Evelyn's silence, setting her designer purse down with deliberate care. Her smug expression faltered when Alexander chose the seat beside Evelyn instead.

Both women startled at the unexpected move.

Logically, as husband and wife, his seating choice made perfect sense. Victoria's lips pursed, but she dared not protest, settling instead beside Sebastian with poorly concealed irritation.

When the food arrived—all Victoria's favorites—Evelyn's appetite vanished. She'd promised herself indifference, yet her traitorous heart kept bleeding fresh wounds.

Alexander slid a spicy dish toward her with deliberate provocation. "I ordered this specially for you."

Evelyn blinked in confusion.

His smirk held cruel amusement. "You love spicy food, don't you? Especially those street tacos drenched in hot sauce."

The reference to her shared meal with Nathaniel on that sidewalk stall months ago struck like a physical blow. That he'd weaponized such a mundane memory shocked her.

"Maddie, Alexander went through such trouble," Victoria simpered. "You must try some."

Evelyn's answering smile held knives. "How could I possibly eat with a mistress at my table?"

Victoria's face darkened instantly. Alexander's fork clattered against his plate. "Must you always create drama?"

"Dare I?" Evelyn's brittle laugh barely concealed her pain. "When my husband finally dines with me, I'm too overwhelmed with joy to eat."

Alexander's icy gaze pinned her. "If you're happy, then eat."

"Your kindness touches me, darling," she demurred, pushing back her chair. "Mr. Whitman, thank you for lunch. I should return to work."

Sebastian nodded his assent.

The window seat trapped her. To leave meant passing Alexander. Her pulse stuttered as she requested passage once, twice—each plea ignored while Victoria watched with barely concealed glee.

"Alexander Blackwood," Evelyn snapped on the third attempt, cheeks flaming. "Move."

He finally looked up, feigning surprise. "Were you addressing me? I thought you meant that other Mr. Whitman."

The petty cruelty stole her breath. When he finally rose, his next words shocked her. "I'll drive you back."

Victoria's protest came shrill and immediate. "But our shopping plans!"

"Wait here." Alexander dismissed her without a glance, already steering Evelyn away.

"I can manage alone," she protested, wary of his sudden attention.

His grip tightened. "Would you prefer Sebastian escort you? Or perhaps another Mr. Whitman?" The unspoken accusation hung between them.

Too exhausted to fight, Evelyn relented. The sight of Victoria's furious pout sparked vicious satisfaction.

The car ride became another battlefield. "Stay away from Sebastian," Alexander warned, voice devoid of warmth.

"Why?" Evelyn blinked with faux innocence. "When my husband parades his mistress publicly, why can't I dine with your uncle?"

Alexander stilled, thrown by her defiance. Sunlight caught the delicate makeup highlighting her delicate features, the luminous eyes that once adored him. For two heartbeats, he faltered before his expression hardened.

"Is this how you seduced him?" He seized her chin. "Playing the wounded innocent?"

Evelyn smiled through the pain. "Whatever helps you sleep at night, Mr. Blackwood."

"Evelyn!" Fury ignited in his gaze. Instead of the expected punishment, he bent and bit her neck—hard.

She gasped, struggling against his immovable grip. When he finally released her, the winter air did nothing to cool the heat flooding her cheeks.

Alexander yanked away her scarf, leaving the vivid mark exposed. "No more scarves," he decreed, satisfaction dripping from each word.

"What do you want from me?" she whispered.

His reflection smirked in her widened pupils. "Wasn't begging to be mine your life's prayer? As your husband, don't I have rights?"

The technical truth burned. They were still married, despite everything.

"The office awaits," she deflected, wrenching free. "Your beloved is waiting."

Instead of releasing her, Alexander hauled her closer, breath hot against her ear. "Why so eager to push me toward her? Wasn't your love confession sincere? Or is this your twisted version of devotion?"

Her traitorous heart pounded wildly. Just as dizziness threatened, he released her.

She'd barely straightened her clothes when Sebastian's silhouette appeared at the restaurant doors. The sight doused her like ice water.

How foolish to imagine jealousy. This was pure possession—marking territory.

"Uncle Sebastian," Alexander's voice dripped false courtesy. "I entrust my wife to your care."

"Of course," Sebastian answered smoothly.

The bandage covering Alexander's mark itched. Evelyn focused on her work until an onslaught of vicious texts arrived—all condemning her for seducing Alexander. Only Victoria could orchestrate such harassment.

The servants' summons to Blackwood Estate provided escape. She stopped for Henry Blackwood's favorite pastries, steeling herself.

The foyer revealed Victoria lounging on the sofa, Ethan napping beside her. The child's innocent face lanced through Evelyn's defenses, resurrecting memories of her own lost baby.

Victoria's greeting held mock surprise. "The old bastard isn't here," she sneered when Evelyn moved toward the stairs.

Evelyn whirled. "He's Alexander's grandfather!"

"Semantics." Victoria examined her nails. "That meddling fossil delayed my marriage. Pity his heart gave out—hospital beds suit him better."

"Grandfather's hospitalized?" Dread pooled in Evelyn's stomach. "Which hospital?"

Victoria's laugh chilled. "Why should you know? Who do you think you are?"

Suddenly advancing, knife in hand, Victoria hissed, "Look at you—pathetic and reeking of poverty. Alexander only toys with you!"

Evelyn's chuckle held no mirth. "Then why the hysterics? Why waste money on those texts?"

Victoria's smirk turned feral. "Important business, obviously." She seized Evelyn's wrist. "How many times must I warn you? Remember prison? Your aborted bastard? Your grandfather's 'accident'?"

The pieces crashed together. "You killed Grandfather!"

"Pity he uncovered certain truths," Victoria whispered, eyes gleaming with malice.

When Victoria suddenly retreated toward Ethan, Evelyn's blood ran cold. The knife flashed—

"Stop!"

Ethan's scream mingled with Evelyn's shout. Blood bloomed across his cherubic cheek.

Before Evelyn could react, Victoria forced the knife into her hand and began shrieking, "How could you hurt my child!"

The servants and Margaret Blackwood came running. "My grandson!" Margaret wailed. "You monster!"

Alexander's entrance coincided with Victoria's tearful accusation. His gaze locked onto the bloody knife and Ethan's wound. Darkness descended over his features.

"It wasn't me!" Evelyn pleaded.

His response came in the form of a brutal kick that sent her crashing into the coffee table. Margaret's subsequent shove split Evelyn's forehead open.

"My heart hurts!" Victoria wailed theatrically. "Why does Evelyn torment me?"

Alexander's promise to make the "culprit" pay sealed Evelyn's fate. Victoria's triumphant smirk confirmed the horrifying truth—she'd mutilated her own child for revenge.

At the hospital, Evelyn secretly donated blood when Victoria fabricated excuses. Weak from blood loss, she overheard Victoria's phone call: "That brat should've died years ago!"

Emerging, Evelyn struck Victoria hard. "Not even animals harm their young!"

Victoria's retaliation came via staged assault—hair mussed, clothes askew—just as Alexander arrived.

"Help! She attacked me!" Victoria's Oscar-worthy performance had the crowd turning on Evelyn.

Alexander's glacial tone spelled doom. "Evelyn Sinclair."

Each syllable landed like a hammer blow.

Victoria's tearful manipulation—"She said since she lost a child, she'd make me suffer too!"—ignited Evelyn's rage.

"You dare mention them?" Evelyn launched herself at Victoria, raining blows until Alexander intervened.

His shove sent Evelyn sprawling. The look he gave her could've frozen hell over.

The drive to the cemetery passed in a haze of pain. When Alexander ordered the graves destroyed, Evelyn's screams went unheeded.

"Now you understand loss," he murmured as workers smashed the urns.

Her grandfather's ashes scattered before she could react. But when Alexander reached for the smaller urn—

"No! That's your daughter too!"

His sneer preceded the shattering glass. "I have one child—Ethan Blackwood."

Evelyn's world shattered with the urn. Crawling through the ashes, she whispered her vengeance through bloodied lips: "You'll regret this."

"Regret doesn't exist in my vocabulary."

When he moved toward Henry's remains, Evelyn threw herself over the urn. "Kill me too, then!"

Something in her defiance gave him pause. The bodyguard's raised fist met Alexander's interception. "Who told you to touch her?"

Suddenly, he stormed off, leaving Evelyn broken amidst the ruins.

Victoria appeared like a specter, knife glinting. "Tsk tsk. Still breathing?" The blade carved an X into Evelyn's cheek.

Agony blurred her vision, but Evelyn refused to scream. "Just kill me."

"Where's the fun in that?" Victoria's parting kick left Evelyn semiconscious beside the shattered urn.

Snowflakes melted against her wounds as memories of happier times with Alexander played behind her eyelids—illusions as fleeting as the snow.

Three days passed in oblivion. Olivia's tearful face greeted Evelyn's awakening.

"If there's a next life," Evelyn rasped, "let's be sisters."

"I want this life!" Olivia sobbed.

Evelyn's smile held infinite weariness. "This life... is already so long."

Returning to work with her scar exposed invited whispers. The viral video of her "attacking" Victoria painted her the villain. Even Catherine's defense—"Those videos are fake!"—masked morbid curiosity.

Evelyn leaned into the persona. "Oh, I hit her. I'd kill her given the chance."

Their horrified retreat amused her.

Sebastian's office provided respite. His genuine concern at her scars almost undid her. "I'm resigning," she announced.

"Because of the gossip? I don't believe it."

Those three words—long craved from Alexander—nearly broke her.

"The annual gala," Sebastian insisted. "You'll accompany me."

The absurdity stung. What right had a scarred woman beside such a man?

Alexander's car awaited her return home. Frozen with terror, she hid until his phone provided escape.

The man who'd shattered her daughter's ashes no longer deserved her fear. Only vengeance remained.