Chapter 8

Evelyn had no clue how she stumbled out of the Gray Tower.

Somehow, she ended up in the backseat of a cab, drifting through traffic, and arrived at a high-end but discreet nightclub.

She needed alcohol—something strong enough to drown out the chaos in her head.

Evelyn tucked herself into a corner, looking completely out of place among the buzzing crowd.

When the bartender handed her the drink menu, she didn't even glance at it. "Whiskey. Straight."

"Got it," the bartender nodded.

In no time, the drink arrived—amber liquid swirling softly under the overhead lights.

She raised the glass and downed it in one go.

It scorched its way down her throat straight to her stomach, triggering a sharp cough.

Rough, but it worked fast.

She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Miss, need some company?" A server in uniform approached casually.

Evelyn glanced up, raising a brow as he gestured toward a nearby group of pretty-boy models.

Clearly trying to get her to book some table service.

"Scram." Her voice was cold.

"My apologies, enjoy your night." The server walked off with an embarrassed look.

Evelyn kept pouring the liquor down, using it to blur out memories she didn't want.

But the more she drank, the clearer it all became.

She remembered how brutally she had stomped on Alexander's heart. How she brushed him off when he was just concerned, how she told him to go after Lillian instead...

That moment—those arms holding her tight as she fell off a cliff...

It tore her apart.

She let out a bitter laugh, tears slipping down her face as she swallowed more booze.

After pushing Alexander away like that, it wasn't like he needed her anymore.

Maybe this was karma for how blind she was in her past life—so blind it left her no shot at redemption in this one.

Sadness and guilt sucked at her like quicksand, pulling her deeper and deeper.

Even with her makeup smudged and her face stained with dried tears, Evelyn's naturally elegant features, touched by the effects of alcohol, had this fragile kind of beauty.

She sat there, alone in her brokenness, catching the eyes of plenty of men looking for a quick thrill.

A few bold ones tried to hit on her, but a glance from her icy stare was enough to send them packing.

Except one guy didn't back off.

Ryan Fisher, second son of the Fisher family, strutted in with a noisy crew, and the moment he spotted Evelyn drinking alone in the corner, his eyes lit up.

With all his experience chasing women, he could tell instantly—she was high-class.

Alone, clearly heartbroken, half-drunk in a place like this? Perfect timing.

He didn't recognize her as the long-absent heiress of the Mitchell family.

Fixing the collar of his flashy shirt, Ryan grabbed a drink and trotted over, flashing what he thought was a charming smile.

"Hey gorgeous, drinking alone's kinda boring, no? Let me keep you company."

As he spoke, his left hand snaked toward Evelyn's shoulder.

Even through the haze, her alertness kicked in. She leaned away, eyes slightly cloudy but sharp.

"Back off."

Ryan hadn't expected such a blunt rejection—left him looking awkward.

"Come on, you don't come to a place like this without looking for some fun. What's with the attitude?"

He leaned closer, his voice low and greasy with innuendo. "Stick with me, I'll show you a good time..."

"I said get lost!" Evelyn raised her voice, full of irritation.

After being embarrassed twice in a row, Ryan's pride took a hit.

Seriously? This chick dared talk to him like that?

He was spoiled rotten by his family and always got his way outside.

When had he ever been treated like this?Ryan Fisher slammed his hand on the table so hard the glasses rattled, jabbing a finger at Evelyn and barking, "Acting all high and mighty in a place like this? Don't kid yourself—what are you even pretending for?"

The loud club music didn't do much to cover his yelling; heads started turning their way.

Fury and alcohol mixed in Evelyn's system, making her hands tremble. She pushed herself up, unsteady but fierce, eyes brimming with contempt despite being shorter than him.

"You? Pathetic. You think someone like you even has a shot? Save your delusions."

"You little—!" Ryan's face burned with rage. "Fine, you asked for it. Let's see how tough you are when I drag you outta here!"

He lunged to grab her arm.

"Mr. Fisher, please—don't!" The club manager rushed over, sweating bullets.

He knew Ryan well enough to tread carefully. And Evelyn? She didn't look like someone ordinary. Nothing good would come out of this mess.

"Out of my way! Not your business!" Ryan barked, shoving the man aside. He glared at Evelyn, eyes blazing. "Let's see who dares stop me!"

Evelyn stared him down coldly, already reaching toward her pocket for her phone.

Should she call her brother?

But they'd just patched things up... Could she really drag them into this again?

Ryan moved in, ready to grab her.

"Take your filthy hands off her!"

A hand shot out. Strong fingers wrapped tightly around Ryan's wrist.

"Aah!" Ryan screamed, the pain shooting up his arm like it was about to snap.

He turned, shaken, and froze.

Alexander.

Why now? Why here?

The air around Alexander seemed to chill. His expression unreadable, his presence made everyone around hold their breath.

The club fell quiet.

"M-Mr. Gray!" Ryan stammered, fear draining the color from his face. The look in Alexander's eyes hit him like a bucket of ice water. "I-I didn't know you were—"

Alexander didn't bother responding. With a sharp flick of his arm, Ryan flew back, crashing into a nearby table with a loud thud.

But Alexander's attention wasn't on him.

His eyes stayed locked on Evelyn.

He took a few steps, jaw clenched, hands twitching with restraint. Was she still angry over what happened earlier?

"Evelyn, are you okay?" he asked softly, eyes full of concern.

She blinked at him, stunned, like she couldn't believe he was really there.

Backlit by the club lights, his tall frame looked almost unreal to her—like he was the only thing keeping her world from falling apart.

Then suddenly, she threw herself into his arms, no hesitation, no holding back.

Alexander stiffened, arms instinctively wrapping around her shaking body with a tenderness that made his heart ache.

"Evelyn," he murmured, voice rough, filled with emotion.

She buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him like it was the only air she could trust.

Her voice trembled in his ear, barely holding it together. "Are you still mad at me, Alexander?

"Is it true... what Sophia said? That you're getting married to her?"

Her sobs spilled out, raw and unfiltered.

Alexander's heart sank. Seeing her like this, so broken, made him feel like he was drowning in guilt and helplessness.

He tucked her closer, lips brushing her ear.

"Evelyn, I was never mad," he whispered. "I only want to marry you. No one else. Never anyone else."

"Don't cry, okay? I'm here now..."