Chapter 21

Ethan Miller's gaze locked onto the brightly lit exit of the skyscraper.

A flash of white.

The thought barely crossed his mind when his eyes caught a woman in a white dress. But disappointment surged instantly—her bearing was nothing like Evelyn Sinclair's.

No other white figures emerged from the lobby.

Just as Ethan relaxed, the headlights of Alexander Kingsley's car suddenly flared to life.

The door swung open violently.

Alexander stood beside the vehicle, his dark eyes fixed on the building's exit. Even through the night, Ethan could feel the suffocating tension radiating from him.

Then, a soft shade of sage green entered his vision.

Evelyn walked out, her hair loosely tied, the wide legs of her gray trousers swaying with each step. She laughed with a colleague, the night breeze lifting the edge of her jacket to reveal a pale yellow camisole underneath.

Ethan's pupils contracted.

For the first time, he realized how unfamiliar Evelyn looked without her usual white attire. Starlight danced in her eyes, her smile bright and vivid—nothing like the subdued shadow from his memories.

Alexander remained motionless until Evelyn bid her colleague goodbye. Only then did he take a slow step forward.

A silver Maserati abruptly cut between them.

"Julian? What are you doing here so late—"

"Just passing by," Julian Ashford interrupted. "Need to inspect the new place."

......

The flickering hallway light of the rundown apartment complex cast uneven shadows.

Julian frowned at the peeling paint on the walls. The moment the door opened, the musty smell hit him like a wave.

"Just needs some airing out," Evelyn said quickly.

The tiny studio apartment was painfully bare—yellowed bedsheets, a peeling wardrobe, a grease-stained stove on the balcony. A broken tile in the bathroom exposed the dark concrete beneath.

Julian's chest tightened.

The Sinclair heiress, reduced to this.

Clang!

The wardrobe door suddenly crashed down, barely hanging on by its last screw. Evelyn hurriedly pulled out a toolkit. "I found a tutorial online, I can—"

Her words cut off.

Julian seized her wrist. The once-delicate fingers were now marred with angry purple blisters.

"First time fixing things..." She tried to pull away.

He snatched the toolkit from her.

Julian ducked into the wardrobe, clumsily adjusting the hinges. Evelyn hovered close, warning, "Careful, the door's heavy—"

"Screwdriver."

"Hold this steady."

The Ashford heir, now kneeling in a musty wardrobe, his white shirt smeared with dust. But seeing the sparkle in Evelyn's eyes, he suddenly thought it was worth it.

"You're amazing!" she cheered as the door finally settled back into place.

Julian tapped the rusted hinge with a wrench. "Only for you..."

"Hmm?"

"I said," he swallowed, "I've had enough of being the 'nice guy.'"

Evelyn was about to laugh—

Crack!

The sound of splintering wood exploded through the room. Julian's right leg plunged straight through the bottom of the wardrobe, sending him lurching forward.

She reached out to steady him.

A dark figure suddenly stepped between them.

Alexander coldly separated the two, slamming the wardrobe door shut with a sharp bang.