Chapter 903

The first rays of dawn sliced through the darkness, painting the sky in hues of gold.

Evelyn Sinclair's eyes stung from the sudden brightness, but her mind still lingered in that terrifying night. The storm had been relentless—behind them, a mudslide threatened to swallow them whole, while the road ahead seemed endless.

She had run until her muscles screamed. Every nerve in her body was taut with fear.

Then, in an instant, the ground beneath her vanished.

Her foot met empty air.

Weightlessness seized her.

And she jolted awake.

Cold sweat trickled down her temple.

It took several slow blinks before Evelyn fully registered her surroundings.

None of it was familiar.

A dull ache pulsed in her skull. When she reached up, her fingers brushed against thick bandages.

Nearby, the flicker of a lighter caught her attention.

A tall, broad-shouldered figure stood silhouetted against the dim light.

For a second, she thought it was Preston.

But that was impossible.

Wasn’t it?

Her vision sharpened. Preston Sinclair stood there, a lighter in one hand, a candle in the other.

Evelyn frowned.

Her voice came out hoarse. "What are you doing?"

A terrible thought struck her.

Was he lighting a candle for me? Am I dead?

The idea sent a chill down her spine, draining what little color remained in her face.

She blinked rapidly, trying to discern reality from illusion.

Preston stiffened.

Then he turned.

His dark eyes locked onto hers—overflowing with tenderness, relief, and something deeper.

He moved toward her, his gaze tracing every inch of her face as if she might shatter at the slightest touch.

Like she was something precious.

Evelyn stared back, confused.

Preston’s jaw tightened. His voice was rough when he finally spoke. "Do you remember who I am?"

She tilted her head. "Do we know each other?"

His face went pale.

Evelyn had only meant to tease him. She hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction.

Before she could explain, the door burst open.

Sebastian Hart strode in, followed by Natalie Beaumont and Isabella Montgomery. The moment Isabella saw Evelyn awake, she lunged forward.

"Eve! You're finally awake! You scared me half to death—"

Her hands barely grazed Evelyn’s shoulders before Preston yanked her back.

His voice was clipped. "She has a concussion. Don’t jostle her."

Isabella’s eyes instantly welled up. "This is all my fault! If I’d been faster—"

Natalie squeezed her shoulder. "She’s awake now. That’s all that matters." Then, with a dramatic sniff, she turned to Evelyn. "Please tell me you haven’t forgotten me, darling. I couldn’t bear it."

Evelyn smirked. "Sebastian, you still owe me two grand."

Sebastian groaned.

His attempt at emotional manipulation had failed spectacularly.

None of them noticed the way Preston flinched.

He hadn’t told them yet—that Evelyn had forgotten him.

But she remembered her friends.

His chest tightened.

Then Evelyn turned to him, her lips curving into a soft smile. Warmth flickered in her eyes.

"Mr. Sinclair, I’m sorry for teasing you earlier."

Preston’s expression shifted—relief warring with something darker.

Without a word, he turned and walked out.

Angry.

Evelyn blinked after him, startled by his reaction. But Isabella quickly distracted her.

"What did you do to scare him like that?"

"I pretended I didn’t remember him."

Natalie rolled her eyes. "Cliché."

Sebastian huffed. "And yet you still remember the money I owe you."

Evelyn laughed—then winced as a sharp pain lanced through her skull. A sudden realization struck her.

"Wait… the mudslide. How did we get out?"