Chapter 7
I watched Alex’s breakdown from above.
Saw him kneel by my refrigerated drawer, pounding his chest, tears falling.
A grotesque pantomime.
His anguish felt… hollow. Meaningless.
When he finally unlocked my phone using our special date – the day we met – the truth flooded in.
Every post. Every photo. Every boastful caption Scarlett had made… visible only to ‘Evelyn Grant.‘
A slow–motion replay of his betrayal, delivered straight to his eyes.
His face drained of color, replaced by the grey pallor of deathly regret.
Scarlett’s intimate videos… ‘Only Evelyn Grant Can See.‘
Him kissing Scarlett’s feet… reverently.
Him holding Scarlett mid–flight… wild.
Him in bed, complaining about the smell of my infected wounds…
His lips trembled. “You knew… all along? Why… didn’t you ask?”
“If you’d asked… if you’d only…”
He couldn’t finish.
Crushing guilt and pain tore through him. His legs buckled. He collapsed to his knees.
He finally understood why Evelyn chose the rooftop for her end.
It was where they’d first met.
She, a rookie fresh out of college, cried after he’d chewed her out during his first week back from abroad.
Her sobs drew him out. He offered a tissue.
Connection sparked. Love followed.
Four years later, planning their wedding… the crash. Evelyn paralyzed.
Faced with amputation to save her life, he’d agreed instantly.
So You Wanted Mo Cona? The Comedy Shour from My Chost Darch te Saimool
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Uapier 7
The vibrant woman retreated into a shell Convincing her to proved with the wedding tour Sur years driver, Scarlett fossi.
Realizing he’d been this woman’s puppete
…that he’d driven Evelyn to death…
A fire ignited in Alex’s chest. Every inch of skin felt seared.
“Evelyn! I was blind! I killed you!”
He slammed his forehead against the floor. Again. And again. Blood smeared the cold steel dranes.
I watched, detached. What was the point?
I was gone. Why the sudden remorse?
Alex fell silent. He haunted Evelyn’s old room, sitting for days. Her funeral? Left entirely to the secretary.
He only surfaced, gaunt and hollow–eyed, when Scarlett was discharged.
Scarlett adapted to Evelyn’s death with chilling ease. Her blindness miraculously cured. She moved into the Vance mansion while Alex grieved.
She wore a mask of sorrow. Inside? Jubilant.
She prodded Alex. “I owe Evelyn… all I can do is care for you now. Since she blessed us shouldn’t we marry? Quidly?”
Her audacity was breathtaking.
Utterly devoid of conscience.
Alex’s dark eyes fixed on her, cold and probing, until a shiver ran down her spine. Then, the mask slipped back on.
“Alright. Your call.”
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
